[Galaxy] FW: [Forrest Outpost] 2161.10.08 - DL - Antonini - "Babel"

[Kate Nicholson]

 //  Forrest Outpost, Support Pylon B  \\
 
 
After her impromptu meeting with Dr. Frye <OOC - backlog to be posted> and
her shift on the Command Deck, Gina paled at the job she had before her.
Liaise with the civilian population ... yikes! She'd jumped on it, realizing
that the Captain was right -- the news about the Klingons had definitely
filtered down throughout the station and panic was brewing.  She'd checked
the station's status and many civilians, those who'd had the means anyway,
had attempted to take ship and leave ... only to be turned back at the
hangar and told all non-essential flights had been cancelled.  A near-riot
had ensued, but it'd been put down fairly easily by the station's Armory
personnel.
 
So she'd sent out the word, to every civilian monitor in the non-Star Fleet
sections:  there was to be an informational meeting in the conference hall
in B Complex, start time 1500 hours.  She had no idea how many people would
attend, she just figured this was the easiest most expedient way to get the
word out.  Here she was now, hurrying along the pylon's walkway, on her way
to the Conference Hall.  Clutching her datapad, she noted with rising alarm
the number of civilians heading that way with her.  Some gave her
disgruntled looks, but most looked stressed and scared.
 
Gina entered the Conference Hall's outer reception area to find a
harassed-looking yeoman fielding questions from a crowd of civilians.  He
looked over at her helplessly.  "Just get everyone into the Hall," she said
to him loudly as half the assembled crowd looked at her.
 
"What's going on?!"
 
"Hey, quit shoving, Latrec!"
 
"Lady! ... ma'am ... when can we get out of here?!"
 
"Just move into the Hall, everyone, and I'll brief you and then field
questions.  But NO questions are going to be answered out here," Gina said,
working her way to one of three sets of main doors that led into the
conference room.  Grumbles answered her words, but at least everyone began
making their way through the doors.  Gina entered and stopped dead.  Wow.
Apparently her communications ploy had worked.  In spades.  The Hall was
filling up fast.
 
She walked up to the front of the Hall -- a trip which took some minutes --
and made her way up the 6 steps that led up to the stage.  She powered on
the lectern and synched her datapad, then just stood up there, watching as
everyone filed in and found seats.  Fifteen minutes passed while she waited,
trying to stifle her growing nervousness.   Finally the yeoman closed the
doors, and the noise in the Hall died to a low buzz.
 
Gina spoke over the Hall's loudspeaker system.  "Good afternoon," she began.
"I'm Lieutenant Commander Regina Antonini, the Station's Counselor.  Many of
you know me in my professional capacity."  She touched a button on her
datapad and a hologram lit up the stage to her right.  It showed the
environs of Njord, including the shipyards and Forrest Outpost.  "But many
of you don't.  In either case, I've been assigned to update you all on the
situation we're all facing."
 
The Hall erupted.  "Yeah, what's going on?!"  "I wanna get out of here,
dammit!"  "Mommy, why's that lady look so funny?!"  "You can't make us stay
here!"
 
"I'll just field that last comment for now," Gina said loudly over the
system, "and then I'll have QUIET while I get on with my explanation."  Her
Italian accent became more pronounced as her temper flared up.  "Yes, we
certainly can make you stay here.  This is primarily a military installation
and you are here at the beneficence of the United Earth government and Star
Fleet.  You stay here with our permission and in a situation like this, you
can only /leave/ with our permission.  You know this."  Loud murmuring
responded to these words after their universal translators finished, but no
shouting.  The Hall gradually became quiet again.
 
"Thank you for your cooperation," Gina began again.  "As you probably
already know, a detachment of Klingon vessels has set up orbit around Njord
and Forrest Outpost.  We assume that no vessels will be allowed in /or/ out
of the supposed blockade, but we have not yet tried to do either.  As you
can see ... " she clicked on her datapad and the hologram lit up with little
dots that represented the Klingon vessels, "... we are competely surrounded.
There hasn't been any word on the Klingon's objective," ~none that I can
share, anyway~ Gina thought, "but they haven't made any aggressive moves,
either."
 
"Someone told me there were MINES out there, too!" someone shouted from way
in the back.
 
"Mines?! Like, explosive thingies?! Bombs?!"
 
"Oh, great and powerful Glknsten, protect and save us!"
 
"QUIET!" Gina shouted, her voice booming over the sound system.  "I said,
QUIET, PLEASE!!" Eyes -- round, oval, slitted, of all colors -- stared up at
her.  "You are /safest/ if you stay here.  BUT --" she shouted over a rising
buzz of dissent, "if you truly feel unsafe on the station and would prefer
to relocate to Njord, we have been shuttling and transporting non-essential
personnel down to the planet's surface."
 
"Is that any better? We could be trapped down there!"
 
"I'm GOING! I don't want to die in space!"
 
"Ohmygods ohmygods ohmygods ..."
 
"ENOUGH!" Gina's magnified voice boomed out once again.  "If you're going to
continue yelling and being ridiculous, I'll just LEAVE and you can work
things out yourself."  The mild threat worked, pretty much.  At least the
shouting stopped and became a low buzz again.  "Anyone wishing to relocate
to Njord, access the station data net and put in your request.  There will
be a prominently displayed icon in all the known languages, so you will find
it easy to do.  If you wish to stay here, access the station data net for
instructions and suggestions.  Now ... are there any questions?"
 
"How soon can we leave for Njord?"
 
Gina:  "There are flights daily and transporter times are posted.  First
come, first served unless you have a pressing need -- one that you will need
to fully explain and for which you will have to show proof."
 
"What if we stay here? Is there anything we can do to, y'know, help?"
 
Gina:  "Many things, thank you so much for asking.  When you check the
station data net, you'll find that along with the instructions and
suggestions, there are places where volunteers can enter their names, for
specific duties.  There's too many to list now, so just check the list and
see if there's something that will fit you nicely."
 
"Is ... is the station safe?"
 
Gina:  "Yes.  Of course it is.  Captain Thompson has run this facility for a
long time, and he is dedicated to its safety and prosperity.  For /all/ the
inhabitants."
 
"Is this part of the Romulan War?"
 
Gina:  "That, I really honestly don't know.  Only the Klingons know what
they're up to, and they aren't cluing us in on it."
 
The rest of the meeting went along the same lines.  Some of the questions
were very perceptive, and Gina had to remember that too much information was
not going to be very helpful here.  But most of the questions were just much
of the same -- what about food, what about my supplies of snerbil fur for my
winter line, will the station run out of Andorian Ale -- all easily
answered.  However, Gina took her time, answered every question, and spent
many hours in the Conference Hall with the group.  Eventually people began
to leave as they felt better about their situation, or to get their name on
one of the lists.  It was a much calmer group of civilians that left the
Conference Hall.
 
Gina straggled out last, hoarse and worn out.  "Ma'am," the yeoman said.
His name was Karl, she discovered.  "That was four hours.  Are you okay?"
 
"Fine," Gina croaked.  "But I'm starving! Where's a good place to eat over
here?"
 
"The Ithenites have a nice place two levels down, Lieutenant Commander.  May
I escort you?"
 
"I'd appreciate it," said Gina.  "Let's have some Andorian Ale before we run
out."  She smiled at Karl.
 
 
LtCommander (Dr) Regina Antonini
Counselor
Forrest Outpost
<NPCs apb Anna>
 
              

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