Posted by Lieutenant Commander Kohr (Executive Officer) in Main Sim [Bridge]: The Kestrel and the Shrike

Posted by Gamemaster Deus Ex Machina (GM) in Main Sim [Bridge]: The Kestrel and the Shrike

Posted by Captain Rende Asam (Captain) in Main Sim [Bridge]: The Kestrel and the Shrike
Posted by… suppressed (5) by the Post Ghost! 👻
[SNIP]

Rende turned at the sound of Kohr’s voice. “Excellent idea Kohr, make it so. Sigmundsson is taking a shuttle for an extra exit, but let’s keep a transporter lock on the team as well.

After the team beamed aboard. The ship seemed to increase the level of power to the internal sensor net and the lower EM band of magnetic hull polarization. There wasn’t anything that would prevent a transport or a shuttle to ship boarding, but the power did increase.

Kalika nodded to the CIO as she tapped a quick command on the console. “NE Lieutenant JG Walters has been sent. Sharp marksman, she’ll keep your hide safe, Sir.” She smiled back and grinned. Teasing or not, she wasn’t going to take a chance. He needed to know whoever went with him wasn’t a skittish Cadet.”

As the Viking entered short range, perhaps 75,000 km. The message changed slightly. In addition to the general welcome, the ship added. “2.9 liters of anti-matter”

When the message changed, she frowned. “Us or them?” She half whispered and did a quick query. It had been years since the academy. Was the other ship recognizing the Viking’s anti-matter or were they divulging their own?

Kalika
Security

Something about that seemed wrong....”Does that sound like a request for payment to you?” she asked everyone at the bridge at large. Tapping the com panel on her chair, =/\=Rende to away team. Eldorin do you remember, back on the Bonnie, that automated repair station we had to study. You were obsessed with it for about a month. The Enterprise got repairs there and they asked for payment for the repairs…but they were kidnapping people too? That ship just asked for payment. Keep an eye on each other.=/\=

https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Automated_repair_station

Rende, CO

Kohr moved a polite distance from the captain as she hailed the away team, quickened his pace to the tactical station upon hearing the word “kidnapping.” The attending officer perked up at his approach, twitched to step away from her station before he put up a hand to remain. He chose instead to post himself nearby, dark eyes fixed on the alien ship as he considered their best course. The knot in his skull began to vibrate, to sing, and it brought fire to his blood. After a careful pause, Kohr raised his voice.

“Yellow alert,” he barked. The pale lights on the bridge immediately tinged with amber. “Helm, bring us to within 30,000 kilometers of the vessel, match course and speed. Lieutenant Pearson—” he lowered his voice so that he didn’t bellow in the nearby woman’s ear “—continuous tactical analysis; I want to know its defensive capabilities. Be wary of any further indication it intends to cut us off from the away team.”

Aside from the slight increase the level of power to the internal sensor net and the lower EM band of magnetic hull polarization. There wasn’t anything notable.

The tactical officer blinked at him, but he gave her what he hoped was an encouraging nod. While he was well within his right to assume her position, one thing he’d learned in Starfleet was the value of trusting one’s subordinates. In a tense situation respect and morale were just as important as phasers and shields. He did watch the readouts carefully, but that was more a warrior’s curiosity and preparedness than concern for her thoroughness.

He turned to the science station. “Lieutenant Loeffler, scan Starfleet’s database for any known encounters with similar vessels or technology, starting with both the Enterprise and the Bonaventure. I want to know as much about that ship and its composition as possible.”

=^=Transporter Room Two,=^= Kohr grunted finally, =^=maintain a lock on our away team. Beam them back upon any sign of distress, or if the alien ship moves more than 39,000 kilometers from the Viking.=^=

Once all stations returned assent and set to their assigned tasks, Kohr’s attention returned to the captain and the vessel on their view screen.
—Kohr, Executive Officer—

The ship was made out of typical star-ship materials. Some however were of the appropriate density and flexibility, but was not native to this section of the galaxy.

GM

Kohr monitored the away team’s progress at an auxiliary console at the bridge’s rear mirroring the tactical station, his heavy brow even more deeply furrowed as he considered their situation. So the alien ship was not as empty as it had first appeared, he noted gravely. But are they crew or are they guests of previous encounters? After tapping a few commands, the energy distribution readout washed down the left side of the screen. With a greater draw on the ship’s grid devoted to a single pod, he was more curious as to its contents than the others.

As if mirroring his thoughts, he noticed the another of the away team’s locator signals break off and head towards the prioritized pod. While he was perhaps wary of the Viking crew encountering a new species—the most awkward first contact situation of his career, if so—the Klingon had to admit that the possibility of some actual answers intrigued him. That, however, would have to wait until the away team made an informed decision on how best to handle the pods and their contents. Nodding to himself Kohr turned his attention to the ship’s systems, in particular their propulsion and defensive systems.

If the shrike dips for the trees, he glowered, I will be prepared to clip its wings.
—Kohr, Executive Officer—

“Cmdr Kohr. Let’s see what the the ship makes of this. Respond with 2.9 liters of matter. Just that nothing else.” Mathematics was the first universal language. Warp travel was also the standard by which they dictated when to make first contact with new species. The statement of 2.0 liters of anti-matter could be a request, an offer, or a way to determine if they understood the ratio of matter to anti-matter was 1:1 and there fore had the knowledge for warp capable space flight. Or it could be something completely different. Rende tapped fingers to her console quietly waiting for a response from the away team.

Rende, CO

“Aye, Captain.” Kohr nodded crisply, then turned to the console and coded the requested transmission. What returned to them brought a frustrated growl from deep in his gut. Thankfully he was controlled enough that it did not surface, merely seethed in his chest.

The ship altered its message in response to Viking =^=Requesting, 2.9 liters of antimatter. Not requesting 2.9 matter.=^=

GM

“More curious still,” he said more to himself than to anyone else, though his resounding voice would carry. The Klingon stared at the screen hard enough to crack it, though thankfully it did not, before he righted himself and faced Rende. “Perhaps the vessel is in some sort of distress? That would explain the encapsulated crew and minimal life support until the away team’s arrival. If, however, it is a requested payment, what service have they—or might they—be providing? It evokes a curious Terran saying a colleague often quoted when dealing with Ferengi and the like: ‘Never pay cash up front.’ To that end, I would very much like to know what we are agreeing to and with whom we are dealing with first.”

Kohr stepped up to the tactical station and peered over Pearson’s shoulder at the defensive analysis she was pouring over, specifically whether or not the alien vessel appeared in=need of the antimatter it was requesting.
—Kohr, Executive Officer—

Rende turned to look at Kohr meeting his gaze. She didn’t like it either. “Perhaps we should simply ask. For what purpose is it requesting the anti-matter. Does it need it and is asking assistance or is it, as you say, payment for some service. And if payment what are we getting. I don’t like it. I also don’t like that the away team hasn’t answered.”

She nodded to the comms officer and the channel opened. =/\=Viking to Away Team. I want a status report.=/\=

Rende, CO