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Strange things afoot on Deck 11 (Augustine Chronicles Thread 3) (TAG RTF Personnel)

Posted March 2, 2021, 3:31 p.m. by Chief Warrant Officer Kodek Vonn (RTF Commander) (James Sinclair)

Posted by Joseph Franklin (Anomalous Individual) in Strange things afoot on Deck 11 (Augustine Chronicles Thread 3) (TAG RTF Personnel)

Posted by Lieutenant Casela Synthi-er (Counsellor / RTF) in Strange things afoot on Deck 11 (Augustine Chronicles Thread 3) (TAG RTF Personnel)

Posted by Ensign Luna (Security Officer /RTF) in Strange things afoot on Deck 11 (Augustine Chronicles Thread 3) (TAG RTF Personnel)
Posted by… suppressed (1) by the Post Ghost! 👻

-USS Leviathan, Deck 11 between RTF Barracks and Cargo Bay 2-

At a glance, everything looked normal on Deck 11.

It wasn’t.

Outside the normal wavelength spectrum available to the naked human eye, things were very wrong.

What looked like a torn away, broken piece of bulkhead stretched across the Deck 11 Corridor, seemingly through Leviathan’s own internal structure. The wreckage was sparking, obviously alive with ruptured power conduits venting their wrath into showers of sparks.

Worse still, there were bodies. One lay crushed beneath the wrecked bulkhead, his arm floating off the deck plates, waving slowly as if in reverie. Other forms drifted slowly, turning and spinning in a silent ballet, bouncing off one another and the wreckage to which they belonged, but passing through what was clearly Leviathan’s surfaces.

One body was moving differently than the rest. A woman in a starfleet uniform, like the rest. Her shoulders were jerking as if she were sobbing, her head bobbing down to her chest. Her face, when it became visible, was bloodied and winced into a mask of pain as she cried silently into the ether.


Further up the corridor, Joseph Franklin opened his eyes.

Warmth… Oh thank God, life support is back online…

He reached a hand to steady himself as he floated, but found that his hand and wrist passed through the bulkhead instead of interacting with it.

This puzzled him deeply, and in his shock, he just stared.

Down the Corridor, the other direction, he heard faint sobbing along with the scraping and settling sounds of wreckage and debris moving against itself.

There was the occasional flash of sparks, and a wash of heat.

Smoke drifted through the air around him.

He looked at his hands.

They were stained with blood.

Vonn stood and motionlessly assessed the scene. It was… odd… to say the least. Nothing was detectable in the normal visual spectrum, but when viewing via gamma or radio wavelengths… two *opposite ends of the spectrum… the scene came into focus; although gamma was more clear. After contacting the bridge Vonn began to record the scene via the helmet and then, slowly, began making their way to the sobbing figure.

“Can you hear me?” the mechanized voice asked.

Vonn, RTF CO

Upon being addressed, the woman weakly turned her head toward Vonn’s computer-generated voice… But that seemed to use all the strength she had left. After one more wracking sob, she went still and her head lolled back as her trajectory changed her rotation.

Something popped silently above Vonn and the ghostly corpses, showering down sparks that left no smell or burns on the Leviathan’s surfaces.

On the other side of the ghost wreckage, a voice rasped. “…Bridge… Franklin to… Bridge… St… Status…” There was a wracking cough.

Franklin, anomalous individual

Vonn froze in place and then amplified their vocal output. “Franklin. Identify yourself. Move to my voice.” and played the same words over and over; and then they activated their ship comms. =/\= Vonn to RTF. Anomaly on Deck eleven near barracks. Containment team respond to my location. Anomaly not visible in normal range, set scanners to Gamma wavelength and proceed with caution. Cross dimensional activity probable. =/\=

Vonn, RTF CO

Inside the barracks Irida sat up grabbed her kit and walked out and around the corridor. “Chief” she said to Vonn in way of reporting in. It was abrupt but respectful.

“Master Chief.” came the artificial reply.

Ensign Luna was quick to respond =/\= agnoliged on my way=/\= with in fifteen minutes Ensign Luna came up behind Vonn. Here stance was law and she was careful about where she stepped using the scanner as a guide.
Ensign Luna

Irida turned taking in the area with her own senses. She drew a head set on and flipped the eye piece down allowing her to see on different spectrums and set it for Gamma waves. The device left her hands free and she loosened her Mark VII in its holster but refrained from actually arming herself. She dropped the bag with the containment kit to the ground and knelt down to open it. The scanner engaged about that time and Irida could now see what Vonn had seen. “Poor souls” she buttered in Russian.
MCPO Irida

“Ensign, don’t move, but begin recording all faces. Scan them and run them through the computer against all known Starfleet personnel. Master Chief, same instructions but look for any identifying nomenclature on parts and debris.” Vonn said in a low volume. They continued to look for the ‘Franklin’ they had heard, so they moved very slowly through the field. “Mr. Franklin. Can you hear me?”

Vonn, RTF

Luna nodded and quietly set to work scanning and identifying each individual making shure a list of all the people were made. ” what happened” she thought. This was definitely strange.
Ensign Luna

“Aye Sir.” Irida reached into the bag and pulled out a PaDD and from her position she stood slowly. It didn’t appear that they could physically affect the debris and people but that didn’t mean anything. Anomalies were unpredictable. She stood in place and visually scanned the area, slowly. She looked for identifying marks on the hull, serial numbers for parts, badges on uniforms, any item that might be transmitting telemetry, anything that would either identify the vessel (or whatever it was) or what had happened to it.
MCPO Irida

Bodies not desiccated by vacuum would be easily identified by facial recognition. Each one would bring up an alert on the scanner, a name, DOB, and USS Augustine as the ship they were last assigned to. Several of the Bulkheads and essential components among the wreckage bore the serial number NCC-87126, which again the computer would recognize as USS Augustine. Which, the alert status would be explained by the ship having been declared MIA, lost with all hands.

The real strangeness lay in the fact that the bodies and the wreckage were floating through the Leviathan’s hull, only seeming to be constrained within by some sort of gravitic effect, or energy attraction. The state of the matter comprising the wreckage and the people was in flux

Leviathan creaked quietly beneath their feet.

Then hell broke loose upon reality.

In the space of an instant, the wreckage and the bodies somehow cycled into the same physical reality as the Leviathan. The superstructure groaned in protest as instant mass gain took its toll on Deck 11. The deck plates rent here and there with the weight distribution changes. The same happened with the Bulkheads and ceilings. Metal squealed against metal and a deep shudder ran through the deck, quaking enough to knock someone off their feet. Conduits were severed and shorted out, systems fused with parts they weren’t meant to interact with, and ceased functioning. Bodies fell from where ever they’d been floating and crashed to the deck plates with a sickening series of thuds and smacks. The air was almost magically filled with Coolant, smoke, and other toxins, a blending of the two atmospheres.

Through the new cacophony of metallic stressors, someone was crying nearby. Just the other side of the brand-new and very real bulkhead that had materialized in the corridor between Cargo bay 2 and the RTF barracks. Things fell or collapsed around the RTF crew, now unhindered by scanner devices.

-Franklin, anomalous individual

Vonn appeared nonplussed by the change, but they were wearing a helmet. Regardless, the synth voice carried over the cacophony of sound. “Luna! Check for survivors! Irida, with me!” and Vonn began moving swiftly through the wreckage. Coming up to the divide between them and the crying, the helmet whipped around to look at Irida. “Is there a conduit from here to the other side? Somewhere you can get past this?” and the gauntleted hand slammed into the bulkhead. As the voice asked the questions, a hand went to the belt and pulled out a small, round object. Anyone with any demolitions training would recognize it instantly… a shaped thermal charge.

Vonn, RTF CO


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