Ep1 Act 2: Down Into The Belly Of The Beast

[Sjet]

Tangerine was a riot of purples, violets and brilliant orange when seen from the comfort of high orbit. From that high castle the planet almost looked peaceful, lacking any of the major storm system many gas giants boasted that could be seen form orbit. It just seemed comfortable with its lot in life: seventh planet out from a dull yellow star, sweeping away comets and other litter from the systems formation a few billion years previously.

But below the surface layers of clouds and steadily thickening atmosphere Tangerine began to show its true colours. Sun light still filtered down from the cloud deck above them, but as the USS Tim Allen barrelled its way through rising columns of condensing hydrogen gas it began to receive wholly unwanted illumination. Lightning bolts as wide as city blocks connected the heavens, creating trees with maddening branches that last for a moment before vanishing. In those terrible flashes of power, any of which would have given the small star ship a very bad day, the hellish cloud scape hidden beneath Tangerines finery was revealed.

Boiling rivers of condensing hydrogen gas roared in semi liquid rivers that flowed at hundreds of miles pers hour, dragged into tortured motion by the planets spin and mass. Fog banks of ammonia smaller than countries flickered with thorn like concentrations of static electricity: though that static could fry God himself if he chose to make an appearance. It was a breath taking few would ever see in their life time, and if any one of a hundred systems on board the Oberth class ship failed it would all be over in an instant.

“Mister Gary, what’s the current depth record for a starship in a gas giant?” Captain Sjet asked, seated in the centre chair as was his right as master and commander of the Tim Allen. The Starbase staff were seated at the various stations around the edge of the bridge, with only Ensign Gary seated by the forward helm station representing the Allen’s crew. Judging by the somewhat paled complexion of the helmsman, this was not a Sunday drive in the country.

“Just under 10 thousand miles before the cloud deck.” Was the helmsman’s slow response, as his fingers worked over controls that saw the small Oberth class starship dive yet deeper and work itself around the worse of the State sized thunder heads “It was set by a Klingon destroyer during the Dominion War.”

“10 thousand you say?” Sjet mused for a moment before straightening up “Make our depth 11 thousand, best speed. I’ll not have a record stand that’s been set by some booze addled warriors with no appreciation for the tremendous pressures they were under. Should make for the same approximate depth as the anomaly.”

Sjet turned his chair around until he was facing backwards, looking to Emerald Jones as she sat at the science console that took up the back half of the bridge. In some respects it looked like she was sat before an immense organ in a church devoted to the natural science. And given a lot of the data she was drinking in went directly into manipulating the structural integrity field that stopped the Allen from being crushed into something bear can sized, Sjet was glad to have a devotee to the church of science on board.

“Lieutenant Jones, are we still on track to intercept the anomaly? Any corrections you need just yell them at Gary and he’ll get the idea.” He quipped.

Tag-Jones

“Hey!” the helmsman shouted back “I joined Starfleet to fly in space, not pilot a submarine into a metallic hydrogen sea!”

“Should have read the recruitment leaflet a little more thoroughly.” Sjet with said with a smile, before turning towards the cramped Engineering and Tactical stations. On a ship like the Allen having either set up on the bridge was a God send, and a little bit of over kill. The only time the Allen’s weapons had been brought on line for use had been during an incident involving a suicidal Workbee whose autopilot had gone crazy. It had taken a longer time than he liked to admit to live down the fact the Workbee had rammed into Starbase One before the Allen’s aft phaser battery had taken care of it.

In fact every time the Allen made port above Earth Starbase One administration made it a note to have a midshipman in a parking valet jacket on hand at the main airlock as a reminder.

“Chief Sai’tan, how’s my ship holding up under the atmospheric assault? We’re avoiding the worse of the pressure cliffs and lightning reefs, but I can only imagine what sort of chaos your combatting over there.” He said, before tilting his head slightly “And how are our meagre arms bearing up Lt P’Trell? We’re not exactly a Federation class dreadnaught with all the trimmings, but two ten inch phaser batteries fore and one aft make for a hell of a mouse trap.”

TAG-Sai’tan and P’Trell.

“I’m sure he means death trap.” Santra added in an acidic tone, where he stood at the back with Ensign Ryler at his side. With a pair of matching frowns the two of them were almost fit to start a fashion trend.

“I’m sure I mean nothing of the kind. The Tim Allen’s a fine ship, a little old in places but she’s earned her colours.” Sjet said with that pride all ship captains get about the particular bucket of bolts they were piloting. The seated captain raised a smile and pointed it at Zuub “Do me a favour, if Santra looks about fit to smile sedate him before he has a seizure.”

“Do so.” Santra said softly “And I’ll answer a question about Andorian anatomy I’ve always meant to solve but never had the time.”

TAG-All. Here we go, down deeper into the depths of Dante's lesser known circle of hell.

[Nevian]

[Ciara Mei]

“I’m sure he means death trap.” Santra added in an acidic tone, where he stood at the back with Ensign Ryler at his side. With a pair of matching frowns the two of them were almost fit to start a fashion trend.

“I’m sure I mean nothing of the kind. The Tim Allen’s a fine ship, a little old in places but she’s earned her colours.” Sjet said with that pride all ship captains get about the particular bucket of bolts they were piloting. The seated captain raised a smile and pointed it at Zuub “Do me a favour, if Santra looks about fit to smile sedate him before he has a seizure.”

“Do so.” Santra said softly “And I’ll answer a question about Andorian anatomy I’ve always meant to solve but never had the time.”

Zayna couldn’t help but smirk when she heard Santra’s comment, quiet as it may have been. She then looked back out the viewscreen as they were heading into what looked far to much like a thunderstorm on Earth. Not that she was afraid by any means, but that didn’t mean that she was fond of flying a ship into it.

So here she was, nothing to actually do on this particular ship but stand there, at the back, looking pretty. This was the part that annoyed her. Until they actually got onto the station, she was useless. Of course, she was able to jump into just about any department if she had to, but did she want to? If it meant that she’d live, she would. Did she care enough about the others on board to do it for them? She wasn’t quite sure yet.

[Amanda Rose]

[Sjet]

[Ciara Mei]

[Sjet]

Three probes had been fired ahead of the USS Tim Allen. They raced ahead without heed or caution, preferring the carefree lives of the kamikaze as they sped towards their inevitable destruction. They had been designed with care, every thought to their prolonged survival given due consideration: but they were being thrown head long into the heart of a gas giant, a stellar body that was just a touch to skinny to become a star in its own right.

They were literally going to go out in a blaze of glory.

By now all of the probes had been compressed and distorted by the ever growing pressure, their own streamlined and aerodynamic forms reduced down into a compact sphere. This had been a design feature that allowed the probes to survive longer, sacrificing lifting bodies and engine modules by designing their tolerances to allow the pressure to naturally melt and squeeze them down into pressure resistant spheres.

The three scientific BB’s ploughed through the ever thickening atmosphere, smashing through cloud banks of condensing hydrogen that couldn't quite tell if it was a gas or a liquid yet. The first sphere picked up the pressure change right before the formation ran head long into the snarling wall of clouds that was the outer perimeter of a colossal storm cell. Probe one was caught by a edie of currents running through the storms outer shell, and was sent off at nearly a thousand miles an hour down into the pitiless heart of Tangerine. The second probe faired similar, but instead of being caught and cast down, it was sucked into a jet stream that would see it begin to orbit within the storms belly until its batteries finally died.

The third probe sphere thundered through the storm wall, and broke through into the eye of the storm: and nearly exploded.

The pressure within the storm cell was vastly different to the pressure outside of it. Where only moments before hundreds of pounds per square inch were being inflicted upon the device, now a steady and almost comfortable 12 PSI registered on its few remaining sensors. Atmospheric conditions had also shifted, chilling the probe slightly as it flew through a sky of argon gas. Visually the area within the storm cell was vastly different from the blood reds and violent purples of Tangerine, instead bathing the probe in a underwater topaz that flickered and danced with the lighting that played within the storm walls.

Then it detected the anomaly fully: without the havoc inducing flicker of static and disruption. Quick measurements were made, scale, weight, possible composition and purpose of identified features. It began to feed power to its long range transmitter, readying to send a burst signal back to Emerald Jones science console on the trailing Tim Allen.

Then it ran into a wall of pure force, a plain of tormented space time that was just the right size to act as a road block. The probe flattened against the flickering golden plate of force, exploding with muted excitement within the argon bubble within the storm. Smaller plains of force materialised, intersecting the arcs and trajectories of the falling debris, incinerating them against their abrasive facets.

Slowly what had created those shimmering discs of force began to awaken, drawing its attention away from suckering wounds and painful memories. It was aware enough to react, to flinch at the sudden arrival of outsiders. It roused its interest still further, sending out a dazzling pulse of energy through the storm’s outer shell to echo through the upper atmosphere of the gas giant Tangerine.

It saw the Tim Allen, illuminated like a bug on a lamp shade.

It began to plan to deal with it.


TAG-Crew of SB42. Wat ever could this mean now that something seems to be dwelling within the gas giant Tangerine?

[Nevian]

[SabrinaPandora]

Six to eight foot-pounds, depending on angle of approach could remove Andorian antennas, the answer came the answer unbidden into the smurf's consciousness, along with 27 ways to accomplish the task from holds, pins and grapples alone.

Talla P'Trell's own antennae both shot up, then her grey brows settled into a petulant scowl as she worked, frustrated with the old and outdated tactical console. Captain Santra Arron was going to have a depressurization accident, she did think. Very much so, and soon too. Once they were on the starbase all sorts of things would be going wrong, the lilliputian lieutenant was quite certain.

"if we get in a fight I may lean out an airlock with a phaser rifle. It would give us more firepower," the tiny tactician mumbled, bitching to herself as the little blue fingers of her right hand flew across the tactical display as she gripped the station with her left hand. One hand for the crew, one hand for you, after all. Interpreting the incoming sensor data as best she could- the reports were dense and slow and mostly over her head-the tactical officer was taking stock of what she was working with on the old Oberth class science vessel. Shore up the structural integrity field generators? No, Talla moped, only because it was not an upgrade that had been made to this old antique, so no go. The hull could be magnetized or electrified, but neither of those options were going to help any here without considerably more maneuvering than they really had time for now. With a few taps Talla sealed the hatches, adding what little structural integrity to the starship that she was capable or lending.

So many of her tricks and strategies were not going to work here, because this ship was an archaic research vessel that was very much not rated for this sort of thing according to the specs and tolerances Talla had read up on this class, and the USS Tim Allen was very much in danger of being all of their crushed tritanium can grave if this continued.

Hydrogen, liquid and gas and under pressure and they were flying into it in an antique. This was madness... but madness could be survived. Eying the sensor data she saw the crest of an EM spectrum wave on the sensors, then looked up to see it on the main viewscreen as a cascading wave of hydrogen crashed over them and the Tim Allen rocked and shuddered, with a few groans that sounded particularly disheartening. The energy patterns... whatever they were- preceded the waves. It wasn't a pass but it would be an improvement.

"Battening hatches, we are at 132% percent overload on structural integrity. Helm, sending you telemetry sensor feed of the electromagnetic waves coming at us. Captain S'jet, recommend that we turn her into them. Reconfiguring shields to... no, they won't do that," the squeaky voice at the tactical station lamented as she sent sensor telemetry to the helm and barked... well, yipped orders. "Lieutenant Saitan, can we reconfigure the deflector to generate a buffer wave to part some of the interference and pave our path? These sensors are very sensitive and they can see and match what is coming at us I think? Then I can recalibrate the shields to be much better, yes?"

Apparently, the little blue birdbrain was something of a savant when it came to her job... thus explaining why such a remarkably flawed little sprocket was still in service.

~tag any of the above

[Sjet]

"You heard the Andorian, Mr Gary! Bring us about to bear dead onto those waves! Drive us at them!" Captain Sjet had to bellow to be heard over the mounting rumble of the ships engines competing for precedence over the pounding of the storm. On the view screen the view began to slowly swing around, until the swirling visible hemisphere of the storm began to creep into view. It was a maddening sphere of wind torn metallic hydrogen and and other liquidised gases: and every now and then a pulse of brilliant energy lanced out like a directed shockwave, breaking against the now reconfigured shields of the Oberth.

"What are the nature of the energy waves?" Santra asked from where he and Ryler stood, both casually gripping onto the bridge railing with white knuckled hands. His raised eye brow, ever so Spockian in its pose, turned top bear on Emerald Jones "I only ask as the repeated and steady nature of these waves suggests a pattern, a manufactured pattern at that. The sort that might be created by an intelligence instead of by some random natural phenomena."

TAG-Jone

"Dr Zuub, assist out deputy science officer in deducing her scan results, I want to know if we're dealing with a life form we might need to chat to or an artefact we can atomise with a barrage of torpedoes from the Starbase's orbital battery."

TAG-Zuub

He saw Sjet's shocked expression and sighed.

"My duty is the protection of Federation strategic interest in this star system, and within the Shoal: not to up hold policy. If this anomaly generated storm is a shield protecting something, I want to know if its a threat that can be bargained with or a device that can be broken." he turned to Ryler "Get onto the communications station,. Try and raise Commander Gantz and the Starbase repair crew, see to it they make a priority the stations weapon systems just in case."

Of course the odds of her getting through thousand of miles of atmosphere and static discharge were next to impossible, but better to give the Ensign busy work than no work.

TAG-Ryler and all. I'\ll wait for folks to catch up and do their thing before we storm the storm wall. (Boy that sentence could use some work)