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Should you follow Dr. Flint Bridge's advice and check yourself, you each find the following:
Breeze responds to T'sorkel, "It's all sort of a blur for me. I was drugged up pretty well when they brought me here injured. I do remember waking up briefly for your visit earlier. From what I hear, it sounds like we've lost a day."
Breeze tries to stand. She's still a little woozy, and has to support herself. Though she is doing much better than she seemed to be doing when you first saw her yesterday morning, clearly she should still be resting.
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“When we woke up in the vid room, I saw one of the soldiers rubbing a spot on his shoulder. Looked like a spot on their skin with redness and swelling. Check yourselves out when you can. We might have been drugged?”
John lays his cane and belt on a bed. He starts to shed his armor in the middle of the sickbay. He looks himself over. Rubs his hands over his body. Then he discretely draws down the waistband of his underpants. There is some slight swelling and redness on John's hip.
"Could have been a needle. Anyone else? Doc, you want to sample that or anything?"
Once the medical professionals are through with any further examination, John quickly begins to redress.
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"Gunna be hard to look for redness and swelling on me doc, you might wanna just scan me to see if you find any recent injections." Beauregard points to the fine hair all over his body.
"Let's review what we know. We were all sitting down watching a Brutaris match when suddenly we blinked and the match was over, and the once-cold beer we were passing around was flat and warm. According to the ship's clock, we lost a day. Now this fits in with some of our evidence but not others. For example, well, not to be too indelicate but none of us crapped our pants. Sorry for being crude but if our bodies had lived through that time, then we would have digested food and it would have needed to go somewhere.
Additionally, and tell me if I'm wrong Doc, but none of us as far as I know are experiencing muscle aches or anything like that. Sitting in the same pose for a day would probably screw us up pretty bad right? And I doubt we had gone about our daily lives and then had our memories erased as we were in the EXACT same spot when the day ended.
Additionally, looks like someone ran roughshod over my damn horns." he points to his horns. "I think someone took some filings and shavings of them. I have . . . NO idea why, they're just a bit of bone with a sheath of keratin. Not that interesting.
Given all that I would surmise that somehow we didn't actually live through the past 24 hours. Somehow we skipped it. Maybe some sort of temporal whammy, maybe some sort of alternate dimension thing. Maybe some sort of Stasis dohicky. Either way, that seems like the most likely scenario. However, clearly SOMETHING happened during that time. Someone messed with my horns, someone may have injected the guards . . . who knows."
T'sorkel is bent over looking at his upper thigh. I think you can add me to that list too, Beau. There's some sort of discoloration on my exoskeleton. He touches it gingerly and then tries to rub it.
So something happened to us during our missing 24 hours. We have to assume it was all of us. Whether it happened in place or we were taken somewhere else... He leaves the remainder of the sentence unspoken as he tries to inspect each of the twins' larvae vials.
We need to see if the systems detected any unusual readings. That would be on the bridge, yes?
Rar'gul also inspects his body, checking torso, neck, legs, arms. The trox frowns. There was something there. On the inside of his upper arm, just below the bicep.
He gently touched the arm with a broad forefinger. "Got a burrn or something herre," he informs the others. "Ccan you takke a lookk when you have a chance, Docc?"
He nods agreement with Beauregard. "Don't know what exacctly, but i]some[/i]thing happened. Will be interrresting to see if it extends beyond those gatherred for the match. I wonder if securrrity footage can help answer some questions?"
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"I did not watch the match and woke up in the corridor where I was patrolling. I thought I saw one of the merceneries pass around the corner before I blanked out.
Galatea and Pike have duties on board. Surely the bridge would have missed them unless they were knocked out too."
John puts his tempweave back on. He pulls and smooths the fabric so that it lies against his skin without wrinkles. Then he straps his belt back on, checks his arc pistol, and takes up his cane.
Rar'gul nods in reply to John. "I must admit I don't rrememberrr much of anything between arrriving for the match viewing and wakking on the floorr," he rumbles as he secures his armour.
Hoisting his hammer, he rests it casually on his shoulder. "If we learrnt nothing else from the last time, it's that we ccan't trrust anyone."
He looks around at his companions. "It might be wise to ccome up with some passworrds or phrrases that only we'd know? Forr when we'rre investigating orr if we get separrated... just to make surrre that we are who we say we are."
Should it be something from before our time in the Chimera? Something we didn't discuss on the ship before?
Galatea-5's comm pipes up. It's the lashunta Shez. "Hey! You coming to the bridge? We could use your help! Maybe you or one of our new friends can take a look at the ship's chronometer. Could be clues there."
Galatea's face was blank as she considered the options, something, had occurred during the time loss, but what exactly, was still unknown. The Omicrom survivors were speaking of code phrases to ensure the identity of one another should they become seperated, had they experienced impostors? Duplicates? Double agents on the outpost? Galatea suddenly felt very out of her depth, she was a Close Combat Support agent, she wasn't equipped for dealing with counter espionage.
That sense of dread threatened to overwhelm her when, after a cursory self examination, she discovered what could be incisions on the rear of her scalp, had someone, something, accessed her exocortex? Had it's directives been altered, modified? She shook, her head, no, she couldn't let herself go down that route.
As the crew began to discuss their recognition codes, she nodded, "Where did we eat the one time? Mel's diner. Stew was cold and greasy. Check." She considered the groups options, she wasn't convinced that Breez should join them, she already had her suspicions about Pike, and if he, too, had been subject to time loss, invasive surgeries, and even psychological programming he was a security risk, especially if he could command his mercenaries to assist him in some plot against the Stewards.
As Rawlins expressed an interest in engineering, it caused Galatea to shift her attention to the man, "While I would like to check engineering, it is not a priority, the bridge contains the logs from several internal systems that would allow us to determine what occurred during the last 24 hours, which is, by far, my primary concern. Engineering is a concern, though a secondary one." A pause, "However, I would like to stop by quarters, to ensure I have my power harness, environmental seals, and zero g protections in the event it comes to that."
"Hey! You coming to the bridge? We could use your help! Maybe you or one of our new friends can take a look at the ship's chronometer. Could be clues there."
Startled by the sudden intrusion on her thoughts, the android reflexively hit reply, "Roger that, just grabbing my encryption key and data logs, be up in 5."
T'sorkel nods. Of course. Let's go see what's happening. The shirren nods at Galatea, allowing her to lead the way since she knew the ship.
Narla and Shez work furiously at the engineering and science stations, attempting to assess what has happened aboard the Voidcrier. An ysoki mercenary, who you believe is named Fech, or possibly Sparkles (you've heard him called both), attempts to assist.
Shez's drone ("Melta-man") assists him.
The other mercenaries here (including Pike and two others) stand guard at the door, but would just be in the way trying to help with technical matters.
When all of you arrive at the bridge, Narla addresses Galatea. "Can you take a look at the sensor data on the main computer? It seems...fragmented? I can't make heads or tails of it."
of the missing 24 hours is the time kept by its chronometer. You find disjointed data that suggests the time loss began at 11:32 p.m. when an electromagnetic pulse (EMP) affected the Voidcrier.
T'sorkel tries to stay quiet as the others work. He studies each person on the bridge as they try to determine what happened to their missing 24 hours. He tries to see if anyone is acting out of the ordinary for this extra-ordinary situation.
Once armed in the power harness, Galatea checked her equipment and battery levels. Securing her gear rapidly, she exited her quarter's giving the required phrase, as expected by the Omicrom survivors.
Once on the bridge, she surveyed the scene quickly, wary of any shift in attitude from any present. It seemed, she thought grimly, that she was not immune to the paranoid atmosphere that had settled upon the ship and her crew since the operation at Omicrom.
As she received direction from her commanding officer, she nodded. "A similar thought occured to me after observing that medial diagnostics lot Breez's vitals during our subjective time loss, as though she had been removed from the medbay, entirely."
She bent to the work station, and began correlating the data available to them.
"Data becomes scrambled at 11:32 due to electromagnetic interference, it may become possible to isolate the source by checking the radiation buffers in engineering."
Rar'gul briefly watches as the others get to work deciphering the data. It quickly surpasses his casual knowledge of tech and he turns his attention to rooting out potential threats of a more tactile nature.
He tries to get a general sense of the various groups present on the bridge and looks for anything out of the ordinary.
The trox then rambles over to the group of mercenaries gathered by the door.
"Can't kkkeep up with that level of tecchno-wizarrdry," he rumbles, jerking a thumb back over his shoulder to where the others are hard at work. "I just trry to stay out of theirr way."
"A shame we didn't get to enjoy the game - or rrememberr it, if we did. How arre you lot feeling?"
T'sorkel tries to stay quiet as the others work. He studies each person on the bridge as they try to determine what happened to their missing 24 hours. He tries to see if anyone is acting out of the ordinary for this extra-ordinary situation.
[dice=Sense Motive]1d20+13
Rar'gul briefly watches as the others get to work deciphering the data. It quickly surpasses his casual knowledge of tech and he turns his attention to rooting out potential threats of a more tactile nature.
He tries to get a general sense of the various groups present on the bridge and looks for anything out of the ordinary.
[Dice=Sense Motive]1d20+1
[Dice=Perception]1d20+11
The trox then rambles over to the group of mercenaries gathered by the door.
"Can't kkkeep up with that level of tecchno-wizarrdry," he rumbles, jerking a thumb back over his shoulder to where the others are hard at work. "I just trry to stay out of theirr way."
"A shame we didn't get to enjoy the game - or rrememberr it, if we did. How arre you lot feeling?"
Galatea makes headway on the computers, discovering a few specifics about what happened.
Rar'gul engages with the mercs (with John contributing as well). One of the mercenaries, a kasatha named Hesper, agrees with Rar'gul. "Yes, I can't possibly contribute to the problem solving going on. I can try to keep everyone safe though. We've got your six!"
The congenial ysoki who was trying his hand at the science station when you walked in chimes in. "Yeah, old Galatea has had more luck with this than I have. I'm happy to step aside. I can go down to the galley and get coffee for everyone!"
With that, Pike jumps in. "Sparkles, everyone is staying right here. If we have to stay at this long enough, we'll send pairs to the galley so we can stay together."
As Galatea considers the ramifications of the time loss and the continuing problem of not being to enter the drift, some ideas may come to mind...
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"Listen . . . there's . . . . something I've been meaning to try. I might be able to help, but only for a minute or two. But if you need me to sub in let me know, I'll see if I can help."
He then turns to the captain.
"Couple questions. Have you noticed any oddities recently? Maybe more stubble than you thought you should have, suddenly going cold, ice melting, that sort of thing?"
Galatea's brow furrowed as she contemplated the relevant information, an EMP pulse originated from the Crier's rear arc, while an unexplained malfunction had rendered their drift engine's inoperable. If their unknown assailants were in possession of both stealth technology, to shield them from any relevant scans, an EMP projector to disable their prey's shields and board the vessel, as well as a Shadow Projector it would certainly be a significant threat to the safety of the Voidcrier and her crew.
She had her Exocortex wirelessly hack into the Shirren's comm, sending a brief text. "Message is unencrypted. Contact G-5 telepathically. Mel's Diner. Stew. Cold & Greasy." As she waited for the discordant thought pattern that preceded most telepathic communication, she, discreetly, focused the ship's scanner on their rear arc looking for the possible source of both the EMP pulse the previous day and any energy fluctuations that would indicate the presence of a Drift Shadow projection field.
"Listen . . . there's . . . . something I've been meaning to try. I might be able to help, but only for a minute or two. But if you need me to sub in let me know, I'll see if I can help."
He then turns to the captain.
"Couple questions. Have you noticed any oddities recently? Maybe more stubble than you thought you should have, suddenly going cold, ice melting, that sort of thing?"
Shez and Narla listen to your question. Shez rubs his chin as you mention "more stubble" than normal.
Narla responds, "No. Nothing like that. At least not until today. I woke up here in my chair. My report, which was due to be transmitted this morning isn't done yet. A whole day just disappeared. 24 hours."
Shez adds "Yeah. I realized something was not right when the new Strawberry Machine Cake song that wasn't supposed to be released for a day was already unlocked on my comm unit. Want to listen?"
Narla gives Shez a dirty look. "You can all listen to your music later on. Let's figure out what's going on first."
You detect some anomalies. It's hard to narrow down what exactly the nature of these anomalies could be.
Beauregard continues to talk to the captain.
"But none of you bridge crew had to shave? Go to the bathroom, felt really hungry or thirsty? Like you hadn't eaten or drank anything in a while?"
Again, Shez and Narla look at each other, then answer you. "Yes. All of those things. I was starving when I woke up, and the protein wafers and coffee I have had really hasn't satisfied me."
Shez looks like he could use a shave. You recall him having a clean shaven appearance earlier.
John and Dr. Flint-Bridge ascertain that they should be able to divert additional power to sensors. This should help Galatea-5 nail down whatever is out there.
Sure enough, your suspicions are confirmed.
There is most certainly a cloaked ship off your aft quarter. You can't nail down EXACTLY where it is, but there is evidence that it is indeed there.
As Rawlins spoke, it clicked, they had been onboard the ship, however briefly, to perform the invasion medical examinations that were evident on almost every member of the crew. They could, theoretically, still be on the ship, cloaked, or under the effects of a holoskin or similar technological device. That, in itself, was frightening.
A ping of the survivors comms, "We need to assume observation. Drift Shadow Range limited, evasive maneuvers would take us beyond range. Once Drift is engaged projector cannot disengage, cannot follow. Pursuers will remain unknown variable."
Galatea nodded, responding to Rawlins spoken comments, "I concur, a search of engineering to determine the integrity of life support, and remove any potential beacon alerting our unknown assailants to our position would be advisable." She paused, turning to her commanding officer, "Captain?"
A ping of the survivors comms, "We need to assume observation. Drift Shadow Range limited, evasive maneuvers would take us beyond range. Once Drift is engaged projector cannot disengage, cannot follow. Pursuers will remain unknown variable."
Galatea nodded, responding to Rawlins spoken comments, "I concur, a search of engineering to determine the integrity of life support, and remove any potential beacon alerting our unknown assailants to our position would be advisable." She paused, turning to her commanding officer, "Captain?"
Narla rubs her chin as she considers Galatea's suggestions. There is a pause, then she says, "make it so. Take the survivors to engineering and see what can be done there to rig us for silent running, then return here and we will try to outrun the enemy ship and jump into the drift."
T'sorkel reads the messages on him comm from the others. He uses his psychic speech to narrow down the mental communication to just those in the group. But why would someone do this? Do you think it's the grays again? What about a See Invisibility spell on the sensors? Would that even work?
Galatea looked to T'sorkel, a slight buzz in her head preceding the telepathic communication. It was an interesting sensation, one produced, perhaps, because of the harmonic frequencies integrated into her exocortex's positronic neural processors. Intrigued by this form of communication, she attempted to push her thoughts into the telepathic relay.
While the intersect of magic and technology is beyond my scope of expertise, space is ... big. We would need to scan an area, perhaps, hundreds of cubic kilometers, and that is if they are in close proximity to the Voidcrier. Rawlins' suggestion of a Faraday cage has merit, however, the powersurge would alert our observers, alerting them to the fact we are aware of their presence.
As she 'spoke' she began a search of the engineering area, drift engines, sublight drives, and power core. If she was able to locate a tracking beacon, it is likely she could discover the channel it broadcast on, giving them another piece of information about their pursuers.
All readings seem to be normal.
There is a standard transponder. It is currently turned off, which is normal for this sort of mission. It will probably be turned on during the approach to base so Bretheda Control knows the Voidcrier is out there.
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After swatting down momentary feeling of helplessness, Lilly concentrates on the problem at hand.
“Let’s begin at the beginning and juice our creativity a bit. There’s something almost poetic about pharmaceuticals helping us overcome mystery drugs. Hold still for a moment, Galatea. Who else is in?”
Now let’s take a look around and see what we can find…
“Perhaps we could set up a loop that continuously modulates the shields? That could interfere with their ability to shut down our drift engine and give us time to scoot out of here. Or we could try adjusting our scanner settings to help us see through their cloak…”
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John nods. "Might work but if it's a loop it'll have to be a long one. Maybe a pseudorandomizer would be a better option, and quicker to operate."
"The greys have probably wrinkled scanner changes before. But if we had something we could drop behind us and then explode behind them, like a mine -- the scanner might pick up the hole their cloak would leave like a silhouette."