Wheels Within Wheels

Posted on Feb 12, 2017 @ 3:32am by Captain Michael Turlogh Kane

Mission: Holodeck Havoc

"WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS"

(Continued from "Comebacks And Intrigues")

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Captain's log, supplemental - it has now been several hours since the holodecks began t malfunction, trapping most of my command staff inside them. We need to get this situation under control, and we need to do it soon...

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Location: USS Phoenix, berthed in Spacedock
Stardate: [2.17]0211.2340
Scene: Deck 35, drive section - Main Engineering


There was no need for him to be on the bridge at this moment in time, so Michael Turlogh Kane returned to Engineering. He felt quite helpless - neither the ship nor her crew needed much managing, and there wasn't much he could do except hang around and wait for something to happen. Everyone who could be put to work to solve the problem was already engaged.

Holodecks. You had to wonder why they were installed on starships these days, given their record of screw-ups. Various methods had been attempted to prevent the holodecks becoming a danger to those who used them - the current thinking was running them off a completely self-contained system - but things still occasionally went wrong, and when they did, the smooth running of the entire starship was affected. Like now, with almost the entire command crew besides Kane and Aerdan Jos stuck inside them.

Nothing much had changed. Malin-Argo was still looming over his staff like an irritable mountain, moving around to check over their collective shoulder while they worked. Asta Elgin and Jonathan Maynell were poring over a scrolling display of computer script - probably the software that the holodeck was using - while Chaucer and a team of engineers were tracing power lines on the main ODN grid, seeing if they could circumvent the holodeck's power and shut the whole thing down.

As soon as Malin-Argo saw him, the Grazerite stopped what he was doing and strode over to Kane - a good move, Kane thought, heading off the CO before he could ask annoying questions. "An update, if you please, Commander," said Kane in his best no-nonsense tone. "I was under the impression that this was the finest Engineering crew in Starfleet."

Malin-Argo visibly bristled at the chide, but held his tongue. "While the overall situation remains the same, we have noticed a progression of sorts with regards the holodeck processor. You recall that there is now one program - a software metafile - running through all the various holodecks, instead of individual programs?"

Kane nodded.

"Well, that metafile is being assimilated into the holodeck's access memory. It will take time, but when complete, the holodeck revert to a standard operating procedure, and we can then shut it down."

"How much time?" Kane glowered.

"It's difficult to tell, Captain. If the holodeck's access memory was not being taxed by running ten simultaneous programs, it would likely be done in a matter of hours."

"This is ridiculous!" snapped Kane. "How can one system paralyse the smooth functioning of this entire starship? I want those holodecks offline, Commander, even if you have to break out the industrial cutters and phaser the doors open!"

To his credit, the bovine Grazerite managed to look a bit sheepish. "Understood, Captain. But if I may, the very fact that the new computer is behaving this way is testament to its technological strength. The previous build might well have completely crashed, bringing down multiple dependent systems along with it. Instead, it is assimilating this new information and working with it, making it a part of itself. That is an impressive advancement in computer technology."

Kane levelled a finger at the Grazerite. "You have your orders, Commander. Bring this situation to its swiftest possible conclusion. Furthermore, I - "

[[Bridge to Captain Kane.]] It was Byte on the internal comms system.

Kane touched his communicator. "Go ahead, Lieutenant."

[[Incoming message from Vulcan for you, Captain, on the Federation Council's frequency.]]

"I'm on my way." Kane lingered for another second, long enough to eyeball Malin-Argo dangerously, before turning on his heel and moving toward the nearest turbolift.

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Location: Shanty Town, Elandipole IV
Scene: Jane Hakeswill's habitation cube


Fifteen months after the Phoenix and the rest of Starfleet had departed orbit of Elandipole, Jane Hakeswill replicated herself a cup of coffee and settled down on the porch of her hab-cube to read the latest reports from around the colony. Her chair was a rickety wooden thing, built from local lumber, but it held her weight and, more importantly, allowed her to sit outside on the communal balcony to take in the view.

Elandipole was paradise, all beaches, lagoons, and atolls. The climate seemed not to change much, but that was to be expected in any planet's tropical zone, which was an added bonus. With sunny days, deliciously cool nights, and stable, predictable weather patterns, Elandipole was a virgin world primed for colonisation. The fact that is was almost completely unexplored made it a bit more exciting - in the years to come, Jane was sure, marine biologists, oceanographers, and all sorts of scientists would come here to delve into the miles-deep depths of the world-ocean.

Here, up on Elandipole's version of a continental shelf, the waters were shallow and warm, coloured green and clear as crystal. Out at sea, where the continetal shelf dropped off, the ocean was midnight blue, falling down into a waterworld of yawning abyssals and chasms so deep that no sunlight had ever penetrated them.

This was the planet to which the Phoenix had brought seven thousand people - all Federation or ex-Federation citizen refugees - from the space station known as Limbo. Limbo was located on the Romulan side of the area of space known as the Triangle, and the Phoenix had ventured there to pick up the hybrid psyker Selyara, who had information pertaining to the Neo-Essentialist regime that was ruling Earth at the time. Seven thousand people had crammed into the starship and had been ferried across the quadrant to where the loyalist remnants of Starfleet were massing - the Elandipole system. Since then, those seven thousand people had made a home here, using industrial-grade replicators to construct shelters and buildings on the little land available on this, the fourth planet of the Elandipole system. Shanty Town, which had been named after the Limbo slum they lived in, had grown quickly, if somewhat haphazardly, and was now home to a rising population of people who had embraced their new homeworld like a long-lost friend.

A town council had been elected six months ago - Jane was its President - and a basic set of laws had been laid out. Nothing fancy, nothing comprehensive, but seven thousand people neeed structure if they were going to have a future, if they were going to live together in peace.

When the communicator beeped inside her room, she didn't immediately hear it, lost in the swirl of thoughts that filtered through the sunshine. It had been beeping for a few seconds before she got to her feet and went back inside.

There was a Starfleet delta on the screen. Jane opened the channel, wondering who could be calling, and her heart leaped when the image winked. It was a starship's bridge - a small vessel, oviously, with only half-a-dozen people looking at her. A Terran man, middle-aged with a blonde beard and a balding head, was standing front and centre, with a pleasant expression on his face.

"Hello?" said Jane. "I'm Jane Hakeswill."

{{President Hakeswill?}} said the man genially.

Jane put a hand to her forehead and chuckled. That word didn't roll off her tongue easily. "I keep forgetting about that. Yes, I suppose I'm the president of this colony."

{{Commander Richard Beecher, commanding the starship Mayflower.}}

"What can I do for you, Commander Beecher?" asked Jane. A little germ of hope bloomed in her heart. Were these people here to help?

Beecher looked down at a PADD he was holding in his hand. {{Madam President, by order of the Council of the United Federation of Planets on this stardate, the system designated One-Five-Seven-Gamma, known as Elandipole, is hereby granted and proclaimed Protectorate status under the laws of the Federation.}} He looked up at her, seeing the emotion in her face. {{You didn't know?}}

"No," Jane said. "We haven't heard anything since the fleet left, nothing in the past year. What happened?"

Beecher nodded. {{We won, Madam President. The Neo-Essentialists were defeated and the Federation was restored. Further to that order, the Mayflower was dispatched to this system six weeks ago to assist you in the building of your colony. We're carrying a full medical team, and our engineers are standing by with a full complement of replicators, toolkits, automated industrial components - everything you need to modernise.}}

The tears came into her eyes, and Jane's heart surged as she struggled to control herself. "This is wonderful news, Commander! When will you be here?"

{{Within a day. We've been slated to remain in orbit for up to six months. The Mayflower isn't a warship, so we can't offer much in the way of protection, but we are carrying a couple of planetary defence satellites and markers that will keep the skies clear while your people get on with taming this world.}}

"I'm looking forward to meeting you, Commander!" exclaimed Jane. "I'm delighted! I can't wait to tell everyone the good news!"

{{I'll let you get back to it,}} said Beecher. {{We'll be in contact later. 'Bye for now.}}

When the connection broke, Jane punched the air. It was finally happening - now to tell everyone.

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Location: USS Phoenix, as before
Scene: Captain's Ready Room


Kane had made it back to the bridge in good time, and gave Darrell Young a wide berth as he heade for the ready room. The Spacedock yard master knew what was happening below decks, and he and his team were monitoring the computer in just as much detail as Malin-Argo and his crew. Between them they were all useless, Kane groused to himself.

The ready room doors hissed closed behind him, leaving him blissfuly alone. He activated his desktop terminal, wondering who from the Federation Council could be calling him, and why.

The screen blinked knowingly, and Kane steeled himself for trouble. The picture was showing what looked like a private hospital room. Sitting up in a chair was Hussein Karimi, the politician who had recently won election to the Federation Council on behalf of Earth. That in itself made him take pause, but what really made him suspicious was seeing Xana Bonviva standing in the background next to Marie-Claire Martine. Wherever that Bolian woman went, discord followed.

Kane thought about making the first move, but kept his mouth shut. His gut told him that it might be better to react to whatever was going on here, not to go looking for it.

{{Captain Kane!}} exclaimed Karimi, a wide smile on his face. The man was wearing a black one-piece suit, and his body language was stiff. Kane guesed that he was still feeling the effects of the assassination attempt. {{I'm transmitting to you from Vulcan, can you hear me?}}

Kane nodded, watching the expressions on the faces of Xana Bonviva and Marie-Claire Martine. He had expected the latter to drop out of sight following her dismissal by President Sardak, but she, too, was still here. The three of them had a real little cabal going. "I can hear you, Mister Karimi. This call is unexpected. What can I do for you?"

It took a moment for his words to be transmitted over such a distance, and the picture fizzed a little. {{Nothing at all, Captain Kane!}} came Karimi's exclaimed reply. {{I wanted to contact you to thank you and your crew for your efforts during the recent Battle of Earth. For the past three years, you and your crew have led the fight against the Neo-Essentialist regime, and without your collective grit and determination, we would all still be languishing under Richard Edgerton's jackboot. You showed that Humans were ready to step up and defend the Federation, and those of us who share your ideals are grateful for your efforts and support!}}

Kane frowned, but managed a diplomatic smile. Karimi's choice of words was odd. He might have been inferring it, but Karimi seemed to be implying some sort of connection between the two of them where none existed. The situation put him on edge - politicians and their ambitions, and he was looking at three of the most devious right now, were responsible for the whole Edgerton mess in the first place.

Not that he could say that. "I'm glad to see that you're recovering, Mister Karimi," he said. "It's important that our democratically-elected representatives are available to work on our collective behalf. As Starfleet officers, we don't get involved in politics. We obey the commands of our superior officers." As the words left his mouth, he was aware of a certain amount of hyperbolic hypocrisy in his words - after all, Richard Edgerton had been legally elevated to his position by the Federation Council. If he had had the time, he might have outlined how the spirit of the orders were just as important as who was giving them, but he didn't. He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw Xana Bonviva roll her eyes - it might have been the picture fizzing.

If Karimi was surprised at being rejected, he didn't show it. His features creased into a picture of pseudo-confusion. {{An interesting perspective, Captain Kane - thank you for it. I wonder if you would agree to something, though. Following my recent election to the Council of the United Federation of Planets, would you agree that I am your superior officer?}}

Kane bristled and tried to control his temper. His finger hovered over the control to cut the connection. What sort of fucking game were they playing, he wondered. Still, there was only one answer to the question. "I would agree, Mister Karimi. Yes."

When his words had crossed the light years, Karimi smiled wolfishly. {{Excellent. I do hope, Captain Kane, that in future I shall be able to remain in touch with the crew of the starship Phoenix.}}

Kane nodded slowly. "If our duties permit it."

Karimi was still smiling. {{Then I bid you good day, Captain Kane. Karimi out.}}

The picture flickered, then winked off, leaving Kane staring at his own confused reflection. He took a deep breath, wondering what that was all about - it seemed pleasant on the surface, but all his instincts were yelling that it was something much more. The opening move in a new game, perhaps? Wheels turning within wheels.

There was nothing he could do, at any rate. The imperative asserted itself, and Kane got up from his seat, anxious to check on Malin-Argo's progress.

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NRPG: Laying some foundations, nothing to see here... ;)


Jerome McKee
the Soul of Captain Michael Turlogh Kane
Commanding Officer
USS PHOENIX


"He speaks an infinite deal of nothing!"
- Shakespeare's "The Merchant of Venice", Act 1, Scene 1.117

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