[From nobody Fri Apr 4 08:58:31 2014 Return-Path: <meridian-bounces@lists.firstera.net> Received: from rly-dd05.mx.aol.com (rly-dd05.mail.aol.com [172.19.141.152]) by air-dd06.mail.aol.com (v121.4) with ESMTP id MAILINDD062-b7b47f32b7e19c; Wed, 02 Apr 2008 02:45:26 -0400 Received: from frida.dreamhost.com (frida.dreamhost.com [66.33.206.23]) by rly-dd05.mx.aol.com (v121.4) with ESMTP id MAILRELAYINDD055-b7b47f32b7e19c; Wed, 02 Apr 2008 02:45:19 -0400 Received: from diego.dreamhost.com (diego.dreamhost.com [66.33.216.104]) by frida.dreamhost.com (Postfix) with ESMTP id 7AA4D18005; Tue, 1 Apr 2008 23:45:18 -0700 (PDT) Received: from diego.dreamhost.com (localhost [127.0.0.1]) by diego.dreamhost.com (Postfix) with ESMTP id 7194548002; Tue, 1 Apr 2008 23:45:18 -0700 (PDT) X-Original-To: meridian@lists.firstera.net Received: from spunkymail-mx7.g.dreamhost.com (mx1.spunky.mail.dreamhost.com [208.97.132.47]) by diego.dreamhost.com (Postfix) with ESMTP id B417D48003 for <meridian@lists.firstera.net>; Tue, 1 Apr 2008 23:45:16 -0700 (PDT) Received: from eastrmmtao106.cox.net (eastrmmtao106.cox.net [68.230.240.48]) by spunkymail-mx7.g.dreamhost.com (Postfix) with ESMTP id 74150C145 for <meridian@firstera.net>; Tue, 1 Apr 2008 23:45:16 -0700 (PDT) Received: from eastrmimpo01.cox.net ([68.1.16.119]) by eastrmmtao106.cox.net (InterMail vM.7.08.02.01 201-2186-121-102-20070209) with ESMTP id <20080402064516.WZWF15722.eastrmmtao106.cox.net@eastrmimpo01.cox.net> for <meridian@firstera.net>; Wed, 2 Apr 2008 02:45:16 -0400 Received: from Fritz ([68.225.115.160]) by eastrmimpo01.cox.net with bizsmtp id 8WlF1Z0073TijaU02WlFVA; Wed, 02 Apr 2008 02:45:15 -0400 From: "Robert" <dwarfplanet@cox.net> To: <meridian@firstera.net> Date: Wed, 2 Apr 2008 02:46:39 -0400 MIME-Version: 1.0 X-Mailer: Microsoft Office Outlook, Build 11.0.5510 X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V6.00.2900.3198 Thread-Index: AciUjU2PBL+/4difTlm8Hne1D7zNwQ== Message-Id: <20080402064516.WZWF15722.eastrmmtao106.cox.net@eastrmimpo01.cox.net> Subject: [Meridian] [Station] 2 Apr, MACO log, Mason X-BeenThere: meridian@lists.firstera.net X-Mailman-Version: 2.1.9 Precedence: list List-Id: <meridian-firstera.net> List-Unsubscribe: <http://lists.firstera.net/listinfo.cgi/meridian-firstera.net>, <mailto:meridian-request@lists.firstera.net?subject=unsubscribe> List-Archive: <http://lists.firstera.net/private.cgi/meridian-firstera.net> List-Post: <mailto:meridian@lists.firstera.net> List-Help: <mailto:meridian-request@lists.firstera.net?subject=help> List-Subscribe: <http://lists.firstera.net/listinfo.cgi/meridian-firstera.net>, <mailto:meridian-request@lists.firstera.net?subject=subscribe> Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Sender: meridian-bounces@lists.firstera.net Errors-To: meridian-bounces@lists.firstera.net X-AOL-IP: 66.33.206.23 X-AOL-SCOLL-AUTHENTICATION: listenair ; SPF_helo : n X-AOL-SCOLL-AUTHENTICATION: listenair ; SPF_822_from : n [ Romulan Waystation, Computer Core ] Mason's two fire teams had stopped bounding past each other and taken to a single-file formation moving double-time. Internal defenses were shut down and he wanted to stay ahead of the teleporting security. There was the occasional flash, as if one of them had come or gone nearby, but with the squad on the move it was the Romulans who were playing catch-up. At the computer core, Mason shot a few quick hand signals. 'Spread out; cover the area'. The massive room was cramped with standing computer towers, access terminals, and walls of data displays -- though it was quiet and dark, as if the station's brain was sleeping. Mason snapped his fingers and pointed to Specialist Noles, his tech. Noles lowered his rifle and pulled a device from a pouch on his back. He yanked a few panels free and began to connect the device to certain points. Mason had already shifted his focus to the environment, the hackles on his neck tingling, waiting for the flash that indicated an immediate threat that demanded what the military deemed, "violence of action". Alert -- eyes scanning, ears listening -- his mind couldn't help but wander. He was three people down, practically a full squad. Whitmore was the first casualty, KIA by the internal defenses. O'Reilly and Rodrigues were badly injured and left in the Control Center with the Starfleet teams that arrived to set up security. He almost lost Yates, but the man was harder than the Rommulan gave him credit. At last report, Spencer had two KIA, and two more wounded. Almost forty percent casualties, and not one good stand-up fight. It was a guerilla war in here. The fact that the security hadn't yet teleported into the computer core was disturbing. It could be that the drives were all scrubbed, except for basic station routines to give the appearance of functionality. But even a good look at their technology would provide enough intel to speculate their advancements. It could be -- more likely and more dangerous -- that the computer core has its own set of booby-traps that the teleporting security doesn't want to fall victim to themselves. Mason wanted just one flash, just one target, to prove that his tech being here was going to be worth it. Mason heard a finger snap and turned to the tech. The soldier had tapped into the mainframe and began scanning files. Mason moved closer and watched the display screen. "What's that?" he whispered to Nolan. "Don't know, Sir," the Specialist replied. "A subroutine, maybe? It kicked in as soon as I confirmed that my device was communicating with the data banks. It's not allowing any download of information." "What about the language?" Mason asked, maintaining the whispering. So far, they had managed to bypass any language barriers by having their device map the basic code of the system in question to locate appropriate commands, then it was just a matter of requesting the commands on the MACO-issued equipment. Luckily, binary was pretty common for all known alien species. They needed some information on the written language, however, to make any downloaded files worthwhile. "The only language in the system is Romulan, Sir," Nolan reported. "I'm not picking up any language database in their translators." "Wiped," Mason spat. With no 'Rosetta Stone' to work with, they couldn't read the gathered intelligence even if they could download any files. Then the tech's device flashed a red icon. "Talk to me," Mason demanded of Noles. "That subroutine, Sir," the tech answered. "It's started..." Noles' suddenly grew a wild hair and yanked the leads from his device off the alien circuitry. "It's started a countdown." "How long?" Mason asked calmly, despite the tech's sudden urgency. "Best guess?" Noles asked as he hurriedly replace the device in the pouch. "Five minutes? Probably less." "Mike Niner to Task Force," Mason said into his communicator. He wanted Meridian to hear this as well as Spencer and Frasier. "Computer Core indicates a countdown. All personnel evacuate the station." He let his rifle dangle by the strap to issue hand signals as he spoke: move out; hurry. "Anyone who can't make it to the shuttle pods in three minutes are to arrange immediate teleport with Apollo and Meridian. Meridian, can you--" The explosion threw Mason through the entrance. He shook his head to clear it and picked himself up. "Taka!" he called through the smoke to his A Team leader. "Sir!" Taka called from down the corridor. As usual, Mason was the last out, and the rest of his team was already away. Still, they were hit by debris and shaken off their feet. "All accounted for," Taka reported. Mason saw Yates and Noles picking themselves up as well. Having his squad at half strength made it easy to check everyone. "Noles, was that it?" "Negative, Sir," Noles coughed. He was favoring his left side. "The countdown indicated Engineering. That was just a firecracker to make sure we couldn't shut it off." "Yates," Mason called. "I lost my communicator. Get ahold of Meridian and coordinate teleport of Mike One, including all casualties." Since Frasier's Starfleet teams would take care of Rodriguez and O'Reilly, he was specifically referring to the body of Specialist Harper left in the corridor. "But we're not sitting around here. I'm on point, file formation, double-time. Move with a purpose, people!" ----- CPT Carl Mason, MACO Unit Commander Special Detachment 06 _______________________________________________ Meridian mailing list ]