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TDRP014: 160722-31 "The Wreck of the Sarlaxa"

The USS Taylorholic Durant is considered to be the Flagship of the UFS Fleet. We are honoured to have Admiral Mike Calhoun as our former CO and as a current crew member, as well as other luminaries. We support UFSA as much as we can and we provide mentorship to the JOOP & CGSD graduate programs.
We roleplay in-world on a drop-in and scheduled basis. We also add to our history and environment by writing RP Narratives, Mission Logs & Personal Stories for the UFS forum.
Inspired by the ship's namesake, the late Admiral Taylorholic Durant, crew members work to exemplify the behaviour, actions & vision of United Federation Starfleet in everything they do. Our first rule: to be kind to one another. And have fun.
Please note we practice Post Order (P.O.) and One Post in our Roleplays. For further info, contact the C.O.!

Roleplay Times: Sundays 11:15am SLT
Commanding Officer: Poison Toocool
Executive Officer: Evelyn Rieko

Moderators: Greenlantern Excelsior, Poison Toocool, Evelyn Rieko

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Poison Toocool
Command - Rear Admiral
Command - Rear Admiral
Posts: 4337
Joined: 101129.0657
Duty Post: Commanding Officer
Ship/Station Posted: USS Taylorholic Durant
Grid: SL
Location: Delta Quadrant
Has thanked: 106 times
Been thanked: 80 times
Contact:

160723.1702

Week 160722-160731 - "The Wreck of the Sarlaxa"
Forum RP
OOC Notes
-------------


General:
-All crew may participate by writing logs for their department during the period of 160722 to 160731.
-Read the CO's post(s) to get a general idea of what your department might be doing; decide whether your character is on the saucer section or stardrive section and log accordingly.
-Be careful not to use the names/positions of other characters (x said this or did that) unless logged by that person prior to your post.
-Use of NPC's is fine, a partial list is here - viewtopic.php?f=603&t=28789 - feel free to use one that exists or to add anyone new except for department heads (chief/vice chief). You may write an RP narrative as one of the Talaxians if wished.
-Feel free to have little departmental or personal problems as you work on the overall mission, but please check with the CO [ IM here or email poisontoocool@gmail.com ] before introducing a major idea that might change the overall status of the ship or the goal of the mission.

Mission Notes:
-Research CV's & solar flares in binary systems, and possible effects on warp-powered vessels
-Ship has separated, Saucer and Stardrive have their own missions
-Saucer could run into complications, check ideas with CO
-Stardrive has limited crew and facilities, Google for info if needed
-the Talaxian freighter "Sarlaxa" carries 45 crew

LCARS:
Sectors - http://www.ufstarfleet.org/wiki/index.p ... Sector_Map
CV - http://www.mssl.ucl.ac.uk/www_astro/gal ... nners.html

Previous:
Nasari Safari I - viewtopic.php?f=602&t=28983
Nasari Safari II - viewtopic.php?f=602&t=29014
Sarlaxan Tag - viewtopic.php?f=602&t=29043

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Poison Toocool
Command - Rear Admiral
Command - Rear Admiral
Posts: 4337
Joined: 101129.0657
Duty Post: Commanding Officer
Ship/Station Posted: USS Taylorholic Durant
Grid: SL
Location: Delta Quadrant
Has thanked: 106 times
Been thanked: 80 times
Contact:

160723.1718

RUNABOUT FARAMIR

=^= RP Narrative =^=

Commander Russell Sprout felt the runabout shudder as the wee ship entered system System B231CV. He recalibrated his course as best he could given the spotty sensors, aiming for B231CV-II, a class T giant and its three moons. Two suns glared at him from a distance. He turned from the pilot seat and called out "Major, best get ready." He turned back, checked again the status of the shields, and gazed up at the viewscreen. "Dropping to one half impulse," he called out. Force of habit, he thought, as there was no one to report to except himself. And Zero. Who tapped him on the shoulder and passed him a mug of coffee before swinging into the co-pilot seat.

"I doublechecked the suits, we're all set. Any sign of them yet?" He too looked up at the viewscreen. The multi-coloured anomaly seemed to beckon to them with long tendrils of debris and gas. Mysterious. Ominous. Deadly. He drank a little.

"Not yet," Sprout responded. "Sensors are almost useless. I'm fixing on the right star, as our data says B-twenty-three's orbit is closer to her. I've set up an automatic comm signal as well, although that's pretty useless too. We just have to use our eyes and ears." He took a sip of the hot black coffee, wincing a little at the replicated taste, keen eyes looking ahead. "With any luck, it shouldn't be too long now."


=^=
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Poison Toocool
Command - Rear Admiral
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Posts: 4337
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Ship/Station Posted: USS Taylorholic Durant
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Location: Delta Quadrant
Has thanked: 106 times
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Contact:

160725.1457

USS TAYLORHOLIC DURANT STARDRIVE

=^= Captain's Log - 160725.1500 =^=

We are at stationkeeping, 10,000 kilometers rimward of the Cataclysmic Variable event horizon. Runabout Faramir, according to our calculations, should have reached System B231CV, and possibly the Sarlaxa. While we wait Science is having a great time observing the two suns. Despite our situation they showed great excitement after identifying SW Sextantis stars in this particular CV. The Engineering Chief, while doing his best to maintain stardrive systems and shields, seems to be permanently gloomy and his attitude over the deployment of the Faramir seems unduly negative.

I am concerned too. They are walking a tight rope. But I have faith in my people. We just need a little luck.

=^= Log Ends =^=
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tfrogue
Operations - Crewman 2nd Class
Operations - Crewman 2nd Class
Posts: 206
Joined: 160509.1516
Duty Post: Unasssigned
Ship/Station Posted:
Grid:

160727.1039

USS TAYLORHOLIC DURANT SAUCER SECTION

Engineering Duty Log
Stardate 160727
Crewman Tfrogue Resident reporting:


After getting several hours of sleep, and putting on a clean uniform, I have returned to duty. The saucer section still remains separated from the Stardrive and we are still under the command of the Executive Officer. Again, it seems that I have no idea what is really going on around me: I just know that I have been given a duty assignment and I am carrying out my orders, the best I can.

The Assist Chief Engineer has assigned me to make sure the warp drive is ready to go if needed. I am currently running a level four diagnostic on the warp engines. The Assist Chief is right; we will never have a better chance than now, to perform these type of checks. Like my professor in Starfleet, Enlisted Training used to say, ‘there is never a better time to do clean up, then when you make the mess. If you wait too long, it becomes an even bigger project.’ While I hate to admit it, the professor was right.”

=^= End Log =^=
Terrance Frogue
Crewman 2nd Class | Operations Branch
UFS Academy Professor | Personnel Clerk
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Poison Toocool
Command - Rear Admiral
Command - Rear Admiral
Posts: 4337
Joined: 101129.0657
Duty Post: Commanding Officer
Ship/Station Posted: USS Taylorholic Durant
Grid: SL
Location: Delta Quadrant
Has thanked: 106 times
Been thanked: 80 times
Contact:

160805.1433

RUNABOUT FARAMIR

=^= RP Narrative =^=

Zero squared away their coffee mugs and returned to the pilot's seat. Both men wore the bulky bottoms of EVA suits. The jackets lay the science station along with helmets and gloves. All the chairs except the ones they used had been removed.

The Faramir was approaching the B23 system now, the runabout seemed to be running sluggishly. Through the viewscreen the Major saw one sun smaller than the other, caught, he supposed in an ageless dance of push-pull. They needed to make sure the Faramir didn't get caught in it, like the Talaxian ship. His fingers ran over the console, "Impulse engines operating within parameters. Life support optimal. Scanning for the Sarlaxa, not getting a lot."

"One o'clock," replied Sprout, his voice calm inspite of the spirt of adrenalin he'd felt when he spied the freighter. "See if you can raise them on comms. If not, we'll have to try to dock with them manually." His brows furrowed as he saw the vessel's proximity to the gas giant. He blew out a small exploitive. "Looks like they don't have much time."

Indeed the Talaxian ship seemed to be teetering on the edge of atmosphere... soon the pull of gravity would take them to their doom.

"Let's do it," Zero said, sending out messages on all frequencies. "I'm just getting static. I don't know if that's them trying to reach us, or whether it's the anomaly pumping out radio waves."

"Reducing to one eighth impluse," peering, Sprout added, "thank goodness the dock is on this side." The marine continued to try to raise the Talaxians as the pilot brought them within a few hundred yards. "Checking maneuvering thrusters," he cast his eyes over the panel. The runabout continued to move forward, via its own velocity and perhaps a gravitational pull from the huge planet now filling their view screen. He twisted his lips absentmindedly. Failing any response from the Talaxians, he would have to attach to the freighter without assistance. He’d done it before, in Academy and in trials, with work bees. This time there was no margin for error.

"Still nothing. We're on our own then," Zero said quietly, as he watched Sprout handle the runabout controls. He checked his readings, "inch it to starboard. There."

They approached, even slower. Just when it seemed they would collide with the other vessel, the pilot initiated thrusters and checked their forward momentum. They crept forward. A slight jarring and a metallic clang indicated contact. "Suits on," Sprout ordered, rising swiftly to don the rest of the environmental gear. Each checked the other, nodded, and moved to the rear. They opened the Faramir's hatch, seeing a green light beckoning from the other side. They moved together through the small airlock and peered through it.

Nothing there. But the light was green so they had to assume either someone had seen them and set things up, or that the freighter's systems had automatically clicked in.

Grunting, they turned the wheel and opened the door. 'Whoosh'... they moved in, closed the door behind them, and waited. Soon the unmistakeable sound of air being piped into the chamber was heard.

"Thank god," Zero muttered. The light on the inner door clicked from red to green. The hatch opened and a Talaxian stood there. From the uniform perhaps the captain. The male said something in his own language. It took a moment for the universal translator to click in. "Thank the stars... Welcome aboard. I am Waparixi, senior pilot of this vessel."

Sprout had no time for niceties. He twisted off his helmet: "Sprout," he pointed to himself, "Zero," he gestured to the Major. "Are your forty-five crew ready to evacuate? We don't have much time."

"We are ready, Sir," Waparixi said, eyeing them both. He knew little of Federation ranks, to be polite he'd call them both 'Sir' unless corrected. "All are assembled in the cargo bay, adjacent to us," he gestured through an open door.

Zero nodded and headed through the door, eyes scanning the worried faces that turned towards him. All conversation ceased. A mix of men and women, no children. Talaxians tended to be shorter than humans but a little stouter. He looked from face to face, estimating. When he was done he turned to Waparixi. "Tell them to leave everything behind." The Marine gestured to the heavy shoulder bags many had.

"But this is... I have to have my belongings, it's all I have," a voice said. Others agreed and began to grumble.

"Fine, bring everything. Leave five of your crew behind," the Major's voice was hard and his eyes icy cold.

Waparixi nodded. "Follow his instructions."

Some obeyed, anxious to get off the dying vessel. Others, holding fast to the last of their precious cargo - whatever it might be - continued to complain.

"Those without baggage, follow me," Sprout said curtly from the airlock door. "Those with baggage are welcome to stay on the freighter." To Waparixi: "It's a choice between luggage and lives. We are overloaded as it is." He gestured to the couple nearest him. "Get aboard." They obediently stepped through the door and followed his instructions.

While the rest were talking, he'd secured the connection and now all doors stood open. "Move through as fast as you can. Stand or sit out of the way when you get there. Sitting is best. Use the floor, there are no chairs. No replicators. No supplies. Quickly now," he said sharply, diving into the chamber after the first couple, knowing Zero would herd the rest of the Talaxians. Which he did, sometimes separating a man or a women from whatever goods they tried to conceal under their clothing or behind their backs. Finally it was just Waparixi. "Let's go," the Major said. The Talaxian nodded.

"My first and only command," he said dryly. "Maybe my last."

Zero made no comment, just followed the man into the airlock, closing and securing the door behind him, stepping through onto the Faramir, and doing the same again. Pulling Waparixi aside he whispered, "Keep them calm. No talking." He then stepped over and through the crowd, heading for the co-pilot seat at the front of the ship. Putting on his helmet, he sat down, saying, "All secure. Ready to separate."

Next to him, suited as well, Sprout grunted an acknowledgement and began to detach the runabout from the freighter. "Thrusters responding," he said, looking through the window, watching the freighter move away from them. "Reverse course set," he turned the runabout slowly. "They all settled back there," he gestured.

"For now. Wap will need to keep them calm. If he doesn't, I'll knock a few heads together." The Talaxians clearly didn't understand their peril.

"Engaging one quarter impulse," the runabout shuddered, straining against the pull of the gas giant. "Come on baby," breathed Sprout. He adjusted course to the closest moon, willing the tiny rock to yank them out of the clutches of B twenty-three.Behind them, the Sarlaxa toppled into the atmosphere.

Aft, Waparixi stood by a porthole, watching as the frieghter took a nosedive towards the planet, heat flaming from its hull as it began to fall. He said nothing, fully aware that without the bravery of the two humans, he, along with his crew and passengers, would be burning up right now. "So she's gone," said a small voice next to him. The Talaxian pilot put an arm around the shoulders of his wife. "Yes, but we're alive." He turned to look at the group. "Sit quietly, stay calm, and let the Starfleet do their jobs." Snixer spoke up "I don't know why I had to leave my bag behind, it was worth many Lat..." he stopped midsentence at Waparixi’s look.

"We're not out of the woods yet. We have to get away from this system and onto the Durant. Only then will we be safe." The Talaxian sat down deftly on the floor under the porthole, his wife by his side.

The runabout strained against B23. “I’ve got to increase speed,” Sprout said, pushing the runabout up to three quarters impulse.

“Shields are up and holding. Life support holding. We’re a bit heavy,” Zero stated the obvious, in a silent condemnation of the engineering officer who had resisted taking out everything that wasn’t bolted down, and more. “Weapons offline. I’m going to shut down comms, and dim internal lights.” Oxygen was the issue. The suits they wore were to provide all available air to the passengers… and to ensure the pilots stayed conscious should life support start to fail. Which it would, in just a few hours. Zero looked up at the viewscreen. “How far to the event horizon?”

“I’m calibrating our course based on backtracking our trip in. Which took a long time. I’d say seven hours at this rate of speed.” Even at three quarter impulse they were moving as slow as a slug in July.

Zero said nothing. He didn’t have to look at the life support panel to know they wouldn’t last until then. He reached over and quietly set up an automatic, progressive deduction in life support values. Slowly, everyone on the ship but the pilots would get less air. Rather as if they were climbing a high mountain.

Time passed. Some of the Talaxians fell asleep, unaware that this would assist in reducing respiration and prolonging the possibility of life for all aboard. Others sat, perspiring and sometimes conversing in whispers. “Shhhh,” Waparixi reminded them. “Sorry, no talking. Lie down if you can.” He got up and gave his jacket to an older woman to serve as her pillow.

“You’ll be alright,” he patted her shoulder and returned to his spot under the porthole. The two suns were a little further behind them. But even he was aware the runabout was running slowly, the pull of the planets and stars almost too much for its small engines. He knew enough now to know the use of warp engines was impossible. He glanced forward to where the two pilots worked, trying to save the people he himself had endangered by not following protocol when entering the area. His face blanched. He sat down with a plop next to his wife, who pulled him into her arms.

=^=
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Poison Toocool
Command - Rear Admiral
Command - Rear Admiral
Posts: 4337
Joined: 101129.0657
Duty Post: Commanding Officer
Ship/Station Posted: USS Taylorholic Durant
Grid: SL
Location: Delta Quadrant
Has thanked: 106 times
Been thanked: 80 times
Contact:

160805.1935

USS TAYLORHOLIC DURANT STARDRIVE

=^= RP Narrative =^=

"Report," Toocool stood at ease on the bridge, as was her habit. Eyes on the viewscreen, waiting for the tiniest speck to move towards them.

"Nothing from the Faramir," said OPs.

"Long range sensors continue to be affected by the anomaly," reported Tactical. "Shields are holding. Weapons off-line. Tractor beam off-line. Transporter use not recommended." The litany of systems offline or not to be used continued. Silence fell for a moment.

LT T'PRain added, "Asteroid belt is moving back into this area Sir. I have tracked their orbit and they will cross between us and the runabout in two point two four hours."

"Estimated arrival time for the Faramir, this location?"

"Between two and three hours. If all went as planned,' the Science officer replied.

"Prepare a short range probe to extend our sensors. Program it to cross the event horizon and pause at 15,000 kilometers on the other side. Launch when ready. Get as much telemetry as we can. Engineering, I want impulse engines, full shields and tractor beam ready in one hour." She moved to her Ready Room. "Comms, get a message to the Saucer if you can. Tell them we're going after the Faramir at fourteen hundred thirty." The door swished behind her as the skeleton crew went to work to fulfill her orders.

=^= Log Ends =^=
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Poison Toocool
Command - Rear Admiral
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Posts: 4337
Joined: 101129.0657
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Ship/Station Posted: USS Taylorholic Durant
Grid: SL
Location: Delta Quadrant
Has thanked: 106 times
Been thanked: 80 times
Contact:

160807.1423

RUNABOUT FARAMIR

=^= RP Narrative =^=

Major Zero checked the readouts again. "Oxygen at sixty percent and falling. Power levels at eighty percent." The Marine looked up at the viewscreen. How far to the Event Horizon? How far to the Durant? These questions passed through his mind, but he did not utter them. The runabout's impulse engines strained against the gravimetric pull of B-twenty-three and it's two stars, slowing their course to a crawl.

Commander Russell Sprout muttered, "Acknowledged. I'm having trouble maintaining three-quarters impulse. ETA to our entry point... two hours." He didn't need to say anything more. They both knew the passengers had about an hour of life support left.

"Minimal power to sensors, not much point since long range isn't working," Zero added. He was beginning to feel confined, the mask of his suit shrouded in mist.

A sudden flash of light to starboard, the Faramir lurched, proximity alarms blaring.

"What the dev..." Zero punched the controls. "Asteroid. And more than one. Directly between us and..." He switched off the alarm quickly. He thought the Talaxians were all likely asleep with the lack of air, he didn't need a panic on his hands as well.

Sprout tightened his lips. "Give me as much warning as you can," he moved the runabout to port, sea-sawing his way through the space debris. "Give the shields everything," he added. "Anything. Everything."

Zero nodded slightly. He checked the power levels, and flipped a switch.

The runabout continued to move forward, all internal lighting gone. Darkness within, darkness without, spacerocks bouncing off its weakening shields.

Aft, forty-five Talaxians lay scattered on the runabout floor in the blackness. Silent. Alive. But for how long?

=^=
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Poison Toocool
Command - Rear Admiral
Command - Rear Admiral
Posts: 4337
Joined: 101129.0657
Duty Post: Commanding Officer
Ship/Station Posted: USS Taylorholic Durant
Grid: SL
Location: Delta Quadrant
Has thanked: 106 times
Been thanked: 80 times
Contact:

160825.0104

=^= RP Narrative =^=

Toocool returned to the stardrive bridge. "Status reports," she commanded crisply, listening carefully to the litany of systems online, offline, or recommended against. When everyone had finished an expectant silence fell. She sat, unusually for her, in the big chair, looking at the viewscreen. No one knew what thoughts were going through her head. At last she moved, punching a button on the arm of her chair. "Attention all crew. We have a shuttle in trouble out there. They are losing life support as we speak. They are overloaded with civilians. If that wasn't enough, they have to thread their way through an asteroid field. We could leave them to their fate, join up with the saucer section and return to Pinastri, mourning the loss of our two crewmates." She paused. "But I can't do that."

Rising, she walked over to helm and stood beside the officer. "Kelvan, set course for our probe. Tactical, I want full shields and phasers in case we need to blow an asteroid to hell." Around the bridge grim smiles, nods.

T'Prain: "Sir, I recommend we drop a buoy at our current location as a homing beacon."

Toocool whirled, nodding her head. "Make it so. Can you add a repeating message to all Federation vessels with our status."

"Aye." T'prain coordinated with tactical to prepare the buoy. She accepted the programming information from Operations. In less than five minutes they were set. "Buoy ready Sir."

"Course laid in Sir," added Helm.

"Drop the buoy. Helm, engage. One quarter impluse." The stardrive moved forward, heading towards the binary system.


The Faramir dodged another rock. "That was too close," Sprout muttered through his teeth. Beside him, Major Zero monitored the sensors, communications, shields, and life support. "Shields have dropped to seventy percent," he reported. "The only thing I'm hearing on comms is static."

Neither one said anything but both eyes glanced to the life support panel, which was flashing yellow.

"One o'clock," the Major said suddenly. The shuttle swerved. Alarms blared.

"Direct hit port nacelle. I'm losing her," Sprout struggled to maintain control as the runabout veered to the left.

"Three o'clock," Zero said grimly, feeling helpless. Somehow they managed to dodge the asteroid. "Impulse engines losing power, we're at eighty-five percent and falling."

"Turn off comms," Sprout ordered. "No point, it's just wasting energy."

The Major nodded, reaching fingers to the console just as a different sound came through the static. "What the hell?" he said, pulling his hand back. The cackle happened again, followed by a steady beep. His face changed. "That's a Starfleet probe!"

"Where," Sprout pulled the runabout away from another asteroid.

"One-two-four degrees-mark-eighteen." Zero peered down at the console, punching a button, "USS Faramir to USS Durant, do you read," his voice was tight.

Sprout changed his course, "one-two-four degrees mark eighteen, one half impulse."


"Captain, we are about to enter the asteroid storm," warned T'Prain.

"Tactical, full shields to starboard. Take power from aft shields as necessary. OPs, shut down all nonessential systems."

OPs frowned and went to work. "Transporters offline, replicators offline, aft turbo offline, lighting dimmed in nonwork areas. Medical has triage set up in cargo two. Cargo one is offline."

Tactical added: "Two shuttles standing by in case they are needed."

"Here they come," breathed T'Prain. The stardrive lurched to the left as an enormous rock bounced off the starboard shields, followed by several more.

"Shields holding at ninety-five percent."

"Helm, evasive action as needed."

"Aye Sir," Kelvan breathed, half wondering how he was to navigate without full sensors. Then he pulled his mind back to the job in hand. The safty of the stardrive.. and maybe the Faramir, was his responsibility.

The ship lurched again. Lights flickered. "Report," Toocool commanded.

"Shields seventy five percent. Hull breach starboard, deck eight. Force fields up. Engineering on its way," OPs reported. Then, on Comms, a cackle.

The stardrive veered again, Kelvan biting his lower lip as he deftly steered the vessel around a huge rock. He was just breathing out when proximity alarms blared. A massive crunching sound. Sparks flew.

"Damage report!"

"Direct hit to the outer hull, at the highest point. Force fields holding. Several injured crew. Medical and engineering responding." OPs voice was dry.

"We are through the worst, Sir," T'Prain reported. "There might be a few more but the storm has passed."

"Captain!" OPs voice was excited. "I've got the Faramir!"

"Open a channel." Toocool paced.

"Channel open."

=^= Sprout, is that you?" =^=

=^= Alive.... well Sir. **Cackle** Per............ come aboard? =^=

Smiles broke out on the bridge. "Get your behind in here," Toocool said with a grin. "Medical, Engineering, report to shuttle bay at once." She turned, moving swiftly to the turbolift: "Kelvan, bring us to stationkeeping by the probe, turn the ship and plot a course back the way we came. I want a full report from Engineering when I return. T'Prain, you have the bridge." The doors swished closed.

=^=
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