Posted by Commander Kohr (Executive Officer) in Main Sim [Kohr’s Quarters]: Staying One Step Ahead

Posted by Captain Rende Asam (Captain) in Main Sim [Kohr’s Quarters]: Staying One Step Ahead

Posted by Commander Kohr (Executive Officer) in Main Sim [Kohr’s Quarters]: Staying One Step Ahead
Posted by… suppressed (2) by the Post Ghost! 👻
Kohr begrudgingly offered gratitude to the pair of security officers assigned to return him to his quarters. He had been able to walk under his own power by the time they had reached the turbolift, felt perfectly capable of managing without them before he’d even caught sight of his door. Orders had been orders, however, and they’d insisted seeing him tucked away. The Klingon understood, of course, would have done the same in their boots had their positions been reversed. Yet it felt undignified for a warrior like himself to be coddled like a frail old man. He allowed himself to snarl and grouse after the door hissed shut behind him, then shook himself.

“Computer, lights!”

Soft illumination rose from the corners and recesses of the open space around him, and a pair of braziers roared to life astride the doorway in which he fumed. Kohr took a moment to drink in the atmosphere: dim like the caves where he had trained as a boy, the dancing firelight scintillating along the polished weapons that decorated the walls. Kahless stared stone-faced at him from his place along the far wall, bat’leth held in a granite grip while scattered starlight blazed about his fur-clad shoulders like a gossamer halo. In the dim light, Kahless seemed displeased with Kohr. The Klingon knelt before the chiseled icon and lit another stick of incense, placing it in the bowl of sand at Kahless’ feet. A few moments of silent prayer seemed to appease the warrior-god, and the shadows playing along his carved features fell placid.

Kohr sat long enough to remove his boots and place them on a rack to the left of the main door. The padded mat of his training area felt cool beneath his feet, soothed his mind. He paused in thought before retrieving a metal tankard from his cramped dining area, filling it with water three times before his thirst was quenched enough not to distract him. Would that it was Hab’rabi’s blood, the back of his mind sneered, but Kohr shoved it aside. Turning, he moved across the padded training space and into his sleeping chamber. It was not the comfort of a stiff mattress and stout metal frame he sought, however, but the polished desk that curved out from the nearby wall. The Klingon dropped himself into the chair, ignoring as it protested against his bulk, and pressed a button on the smooth edge.

Several holodisplays leapt into view above the desk, various reports from the Viking departments. Kohr nursed the tankard in his leather grip as he drank in the details, his mind moving quickly and carefully as he considered it all. While he could not pin down exactly what Hab’rabi’s plan was for the Viking and her crew, the Klingon was determined to remain one step ahead of the alien lord’s machinations. Of particular note were the reports from engineering regarding the different types of energy beings, as well as the encounter on Deck 34. He watched the response from security with intense interest, frowning.

“Computer,” he growled, “identify the security officer who responded to the alert on Deck 34 during the timeframe displayed.”

“Ensign Kevin Baker. Security Officer, USS Viking,” the computer replied calmly.

Kohr made a face, then leaned forward to press the call button. “Commander Kohr to Ensign Baker. Report to my quarters immediately.”

While he waited, the Klingon pulled up the available information on Baker, including his service record. With the accounts of crew possession—including his own encounter with Hab’rabi’s damnable motes—he needed to make sure he knew who he was talking to. While personally reported as hard to get along with, the ensign nevertheless had earned the respect of his fellow crewman. A brief review of his past psyche evaluations only reinforced what had been mentioned: Baker was gruff but dependable, and almost born for security work. Nodding in satisfaction, Kohr set to work unraveling Hab’rabi’s scheme.

“Enter!” he barked when the door chimed, and Ensign Baker moved carefully into view. Kohr gestured to the small stool opposite him. “Ensign Baker, excellent. Sit.”

The man nodded and sat, quirking a brow at the holodisplays between them. “I didn’t think crew reviews were for another few weeks, sir. How can I help?”

Kohr made a dismissive gesture, swiping the ghostly display to the side before pulling up the frozen image of Baker’s encounter with the motes. The Klingon laced his fingers together and leaned forward, placing his elbows on his thighs. “Tell me what happened.”

Baker blinked at the statement, looked between the commander and the image. His thumb and forefinger moved against one another in his lap nervously. “You’ve seen the security feed, sir. It’s pretty much all there. Call came across the comm in the brig, I responded. Found that poor girl locked up inside the containment field with those… things. Did my best to get her out of there, and they came at us. Maybe discharging my weapon wasn’t the smartest move, but—”

“You responded to a perceived threat in defense of a fellow officer,” Kohr cut in stiffly. “That is honorable.”

Baker relaxed a bit, though his fingers did not stop. The Klingon quirked a brow at the gesture, but did not remark.

“Sensor logs also indicate your phaser hit destabilized the energy being,” the commander continued. “Do you recall your weapon’s setting at the time?”

Baker nodded. “Full stun, sir. We were on yellow alert, and that’s standard procedure. One of ‘em was a hair too fast for me, slipped into the wall. Chief Forgrave is on the case, though, sir, and I’ve submitted my scans for review.”

“What was your impression of the aliens? Do you believe they intended harm to Ensign Bogon?”

“Can’t rightly say, sir.” Baker’s face slipped into a pensive mask. “Logs suggested we responded before they managed contact; Medical should know by now whether she was affected.”

Kohr nodded slowly, then pulled up the ensign’s service record. “It says here you specialized in surveillance and counterinsurgency training during the Academy. Is that correct?”

“Yes, sir. Lost a lot of family during the Dominion War.” Baker’s jaw clenched before he could stop himself. “A lot of good people. My father always said that history was the best teacher so that a man never makes the same mistake twice. Those shapeshifters could still be out there, and I didn’t want Starfleet to get caught with their pants down again.”

The Klingon balked at the expression, then nodded. “And yet you turned down advanced training. Why?”

“No offense intended, sir—I’ve seen your records, know what you’ve done for Starfleet—I respect the hell out of men and women like you for doing what needed to be done. But they didn’t hit us where we were looking or where we thought we were. They hit us in the small and simple ways, the sneaky ways where no one ever thought to look. Seemed to me being assigned to an out-of-the-way post like the Viking would put me where they’d never expect.”

“Even if your efforts amount to nothing in the end?” Kohr’s tone was cool, even, but Baker’s head jerked as if he’d been struck.

The security officer chuckled, shook his head. “Sir, if I spend my time wound up tighter than a long-tail cat in a room full of rocking chairs and nothing comes of it, well, I’ll consider that time well-spent. Better to be prepared for nothing than get caught unaware.”

Kohr smiled and stood, grasping his wrist behind his back and staring out into the yawning storm of warp space. “Although I cannot say whether a Founder lurks among the Viking crew, I do know of a very real and present threat: that of Hab’rabi and his energy beings. I require the aid of men and women who understand the threat he poses, both to this ship and the Federation as a whole.

There was a heavy pause behind him, and the Klingon heard Baker shift several times as he thought. Finally the security officer cleared his throat, and the commander turned to face him. Baker stared at him with a smoldering fire Kohr had seen only rarely in his time with Starfleet: righteous determination.

“What do you need me to do, sir?”

---

---

By the time the Viking dropped out of warp, the pair of men had grown into a small team of officers from various departments. Many of them had been as bewildered by Kohr’s summons as Baker, but once the commander spoke with them in-turn regarding his concerns they quickly sobered. They had been forced to move out into the training hall so that each could sit comfortably. Kohr paced back and forth between Khaless’ unswerving glare and a ghostly image of the Viking thrown down from the ceiling’s holoemitter. He originally had it installed to show his trainees proper form and battle assessment techniques; now it would be used to undermine their enemy’s plan to subvert them.

“Let us proceed through the situation one more time,” Kohr growled, rounding on his path like a hunting targ. At this rate, he would have to have several mats replaced for wear from his pacing.

“Within the hour, Engineering will engage a static warp bubble around the Viking in an attempt to prevent subspace travel,” Lieutenant Watanabe noted, gesturing at the display’s midsection. The engineer’s voice was quite but clear. “The goal of this maneuver is to limit movement by Hab’rabi’s energy beings by disrupting the formation of subspace inversion fields. It is also theorized that it will make them visible to both our sensors and personnel. This is not likely to stop them from moving through bulkheads or decks, but containment and structural integrity should keep them out of most of our systems.”

Ensign Linch nodded, casting a sideways glance at Ensign Baker. “Our sensors have been calibrated to detect them once they’re disrupted, but the main concern then will be for the crew. Medical has only been able to produce biomonitors for thirty percent of the staff—” She pointed tentatively to the armband Kohr had been given before being removed from Sickbay. “—and most of those have gone to senior officers for security reasons. Random medical scans and checkpoint protocols should help us limit their travel should they decide to take hosts, but I don’t think we can stop them from hopping from person to person.”

“They’re probably not going to be happy we’re onto them,” Baker groused, his fingers moving in front of his lips as he thought. “Whatever they had planned before, they’re going to up their game and go on the offensive. Like I told Lieutenant Forgrave and Lieutenant Commander Sigmundsson, it’ll be guerilla warfare from here on out. Our biggest hamstring is gonna be that we don’t know their endgame. If we knew what they wanted, we’d be able to head them off.”

Lieutenant Bradshaw made a thoughtful sound, lifting a hand to interject. All eyes fell on her, and the science officer folded her arms across her chest. “After looking over the preliminary reports, they seem to have the same designs as all other lifeforms we’ve encountered: food, security, and shelter. They don’t seem to be able to directly interact with our universe, which is why they assume hosts. They’ve explored the varieties of corporeal experience—food and drink, activities and stressors, and even intimacy or procreation—which even the basest animals are wont to do. But they’re obviously capable of higher thought, else why sabotage parts of the ship? It could be that they didn’t mean to, or that they didn’t understand the full depth of their actions. But when we cut off their safety and security—their ability to retreat to subspace, where they seem to live and thrive—it could have similar consequences to cornering a wild animal.”

“Hab’rabi is contained,” Kohr noted flatly, trying very hard to maintain his composure. “Without his direction or assistance, it is likely they will not be able to organize.”

“Unless there’s another leader out there somewhere,” Baker murmured, his fingers working against each other in a flurry. “If he’s the captain, he’s gotta have an exo. We didn’t have much a chance of looking around his ship. Who knows what else their computer did while we were gone.”

Kohr made a wry face at the suggestion. “Hab’rabi’s aim was originally the anti-matter, so let us begin there. Where is it now?”

“It’s in a storage locker in Engineering, sir,” Watanabe offered. “Deck Eighteen, Section Eleven Delta.”

“Baker, I want you to take a security detail and have it moved to Cargo Bay Two.” The commander stabbed a finger at the Viking’s aft section. “Watanabe, you are to assist and ensure containment is maintained. I want the canisters placed in an open, unobstructed area away from other containers so there is no chance of sensor interference. Once complete, Watanabe and Bradshaw are to work to bolster containment to the cargo bay. Use extra personnel as-needed.”

Ensign Linch raised her hand. “Sir, what should I be doing?”

“You will monitor those that come and go from the cargo bay to ensure they are not compromised by the alien life forms,” Kohr noted, then looked to the science officer. “Report any unusual activity to myself and Lieutenant Bradshaw. The rest of you will assist those in-charge to ensure the success of this task. Unless otherwise ordered by the captain, you are to remain within one section of Cargo Bay Two at all times and are never to be left alone for any reason. Understood?”

The knot of officers scattered around the room nodded mutely. Baker snapped his fingers and flashed the Klingon an appreciative sneer.

“You’re baiting a trap!”

Kohr nodded. “Indeed. If Hab’rabi’s plan is to secure the antimatter, he will have to send his minions to collect it or go himself. Either way, the cargo bay is a secure location with more dense bulkheads, greater containment enforcement, and limited access by normal means. It is also away from critical systems such as the warp core, limiting collateral damage should it come to conflict.”

A chirp rippled through the air, and a voice called through the comm system. =^=“Attention, all decks! This is Lieutenant Bowman in Engineering. Please stand by while we initiate a static warp field. As disorientation is common during field attenuation, more-sensitive species are advised to brace. The process should take no more than thirty seconds; crewman who experience prolonged symptoms are advised to report to the nearest medical team. Field will engage in ten seconds. Bowman, out.”=^=

The air about them seemed to hum and ripple for a moment, and a crippling vertigo brought Kohr to his knees. Luckily he managed to get his arms out in time to save him from kissing the mat, but it was a close thing. The Klingon snarled against the urge to empty his stomach onto the deck, grit his teeth until the sensation subsided. The ship dipped and bucked beneath him for far too long before his vision cleared. Ensign Linch had a steadying hand on his shoulder, the other waving a tricorder near his temple.

“Seems the static field doesn’t harmonize well with the electrostatic charge left by the remnant motes,” she sighed, flipping the tricorder shut and giving the commander a concerned look. “Other than a burst of adrenaline, you seem fine. The monitor isn’t going off, so I think you’re in the clear. How do you feel?”

Kohr shook his head, swallowed the bile burning the back of his mouth. “I am fine. It appears we have run out of time to plan and speculate. You have your orders. Proceed.”
—Kohr, Executive Officer—

Some time after Kohr’s contengency team left, Rende strode down the corridor. EMP grenades, personal force field and her personal phaser rifle slung over a shoulder. Overkill? Rende didn’t think so. She hoped Kohr was doing what she would do in his place, and of his own volition, not under the influence of what ever this was. She wished she had more answers from Hab’rabi but apparently no one got any information out of him.

She hit the chime and refrained from announcing herself, just yet.

Rende, CO

“Enter!” Kohr barked, and the door slid open.

The braziers flanking the opening were the barest embers, casting shivering shadows along the nearest walls. The rest of the training area was cast in deep shadow with faint starlight winking through the far window. The executive officer’s desk was a bastion of luminescence, a halo of holodisplays marching data about Kohr’s shoulders like dutiful soldiers. He looked up from the data pad in his hand, set it down when he realized who had come to visit. He waved away the floating displays and stood, his silhouette cast against the deeper gloam with the light gone.

“Computer, raise light level fifteen percent.” The braziers sparked and thin strips along the ceiling roused enough that both could see well enough. Kohr was never one for clutter, and anyone who blundered into something deserved what they got in his mind. “Captain, this is unexpected. Is there something I can do for you?”
—Kohr, Executive Officer—

The first thing Fence did was look at the mobile monitor on Kohr’s arm. If it went off would any of them have the presence of mind or control of body to do anything to help themselves? It occured to Renee this was the first time she had actually been in Kohr’s quarters and didn’t immediately feel at ease. Not that she visited her first officer in his quarters all that often. There was a starkness to it this place that was calming and a primelness that was comforting. Renee had spent weeks looking for a good candidate for XO, and when she came across Your with such a strong recommendation from Bordeaux she knew she’d found her XO.

Rende stepped in and the door closed. “I don’t like this Kohr. It’s like we can’t trust our own crew. It’s unnatural! For reasons, I am considering sending a half liter of antimatter to the ship, only to discover that you have moved it and put it under guard. Now I can imagine why I would do such a thing. But what disturbs me the most is that on any other given day I would know, not guess, at why you did it. I find myself questioning the actions and words of every person on this crew. So before we end up countermanding each other and rip the ship apart between us, I think we both need to find out how influenced we are by what is going on here. Because if we can’t trust each other we might as well blow both ships to space dust.”

Rende, CO

Kohr gestured for her to take the seat opposite him, then sat himself. He leaned forward, laced his fingers together on the polished surface. The green light on his armband was blinding in the dim, and it cast a strange sheen across his gaze. He considered her for a moment, the ridges of his forehead tightening in pensive thought. Despite her words, the Klingon seemed relaxed. Finally, he gave her an ambiguous shrug.

“A difficult prospect, to be certain,” he admitted in his usual baritone. “I will not tell you that you can trust me, for that is exactly what someone compromised might say. And yet knowing that, I cannot tell you not to trust me since that is what a wily foe might say as well. Further, I cannot know for certain that I can trust you or anyone else, can I? It is a frustrating situation, indeed. And that, I can only assume, is what the enemy meant to do: set us against one another in order that their true motive goes unnoticed.”

He flexed his fingers then, a vaguely helpless and apologetic gesture. It was oddly appropriate. “It was an error in judgment to assume I was still cleared for duty after my encounter and being remanded to quarters. However, I felt that it was in the best interest of the Viking to secure the antimatter away from Engineering in case Hab’rabi or the energy entities made a play for it. Now that we have returned to the derelict and are aware of their presence, it is a tactical consideration that they would retreat to their vessel—familiar territory, as it were. Controlling their means of entry and preventing risk to the ship seemed… prudent, and so I acted.”

Between them, Kohr had learned never to apologize for mistakes. They were both well aware that they would happen, especially in a tense situation such as the one they faced. With Rende, it had been about learning from the experience and doing better; words between them were simply that, and action was so much more reliable. Kohr admitted to himself that he’d been a touch defensive, but he felt his reasoning was sound enough. But it wouldn’t matter what he thought on her ship, which was another thing he’d learned about Rende—when her back was against the wall, rank meant nothing. She was a matron targ protecting her territory and her offspring, regulations and reasons be damned.

“I see you came dressed for the occasion,” he smirked, wagging a finger at the rifle peeking over her shoulder. “Of little use against energy beings, I would wager.”
—Kohr, Executive Officer—

Rende grinned, “We know of at least one of these things was taken out by a phaser, so energy weapons have some effect. Perhaps only because it appeared to already be weakened. But a good strong stun setting will knock anyone out who’s behavior is unsatisfactory due to influence. It may not stop these accursed things from controlling the crew, but it will stop them momentarily until they find a new host.”

The blinking green glow in the dark reminded Rende of the Borg. She wasn’t on her home world when the Borg took it, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t had experience with them. It was eerie considering what she knew about Kohr. Then she shrugged it away. She would not give in to paranoia and doubt her officers. Caution may be called for, but as Kohr said the best way to defeat an opponent was to make them distrust their allies.

She waved away his statements. “In your place I would have done the exact same thing. Nor can I offer you any reassurances. Were we Vulcan or Betazoid we could probe each other’s minds for the truth but even that would not assure that we were not influenced after the fact. Part of me wants to know exactly what you are up to, though I already have a fairly good guess, but at the same time, I feel strongly it is best that I don’t know. Have you been monitoring the reports across the ship? And are you aware of the conversations I have had with ‘Legion’? Also you should hear this.” Rende instructed the computer to play the low frequency radio transmission that Yorba had discovered.

“I have come to highly rely on and value your opinion and input, Kohr. Even without the motes I know that this,” She pointed up toward the speaker, indicating the last recording, “and my own past experiences are influencing me. There are the potential for innocent lives still on that ship. I don’t want them to die while we sort this out. I am of a mind to send 1/2 maybe even a 1/4 of a liter of anti-matter to them. Just enough to keep life support going but not enough to power anything else. And then perhaps I can determine what this information is that Hab’rabi has given me.” What she liked about Kohr was he would give his honest opinion. Sometimes it came quickly and sometimes after a pause, but it was always made with thought and consideration to what he knew. Klingons were passionate people, but wise when the time called for it. Despite common belief they were not blood thirsty, nor were they afraid to shed some if need be. Rende understood. To top it off, Kohr was devious and brilliant. Which was why he was always selected for the joint fleet operations and trainings.

Rende, CO