Episode 2.01: Brushfire!

[Davy, aka GM]

OOC: 3 Successes vs. Difficulty 1. Success, plus 2 Momentum generated.

Current
Momentum 6 (2 pending, Ally; must be spent or lost)
Threat 10

Reviewing her tricorder data, the specialist determines that they best way to the camp is around to the left and up the more gentle slope there. Of course, as Ensign Tann-Tyra has suggested, the walk up is exposed to the defenses of the plateau. There's no way to get there undetected...

[Doug Burke]

Ally showed Cole her scan data and indicated the easier route with her free hand. "Tann-Tyra's right. There's no way we can approach unseen, so maybe we shouldn't even try. It's hard to ambush someone of they know you're there." She glanced from the tricorder to the surrounding area and then back to Cole. "Sir, I'm curious. Now that we know they're here and we're fairly certain they're Starfleet, why don't we try calling by communicator?"

Let's use the Momentum to give us an advantage to avoid an ambush. Call it "No Blue On Blue."

[Davy, aka GM]

OOC: Current
Momentum 6
Threat 10

Well-Oiled Machine Advantage (when a PC or supporting character assists a PC on a task, the task's Difficulty is reduced by 1)
On Their Toes Disadvantage (Opponents; Difficulty to surprise the crew is increased by 1)
No Blue on Blue Advantage (Less likely the party will be taken for threats by other Starfleet personnel...limited to first encounter with Rostov survivors)

[Patrick Goodman]

Tann-Tyra chimed in. "In my opinion, it's not a bad idea, sir. Communicators and tricorders are standard issue kit in the escape pods, and we know they have the power to keep them charged and running. They know that Starfleet is going to send a ship to investigate; they're probably waiting for contact."

[Renny]

"You both make excellent points," Cole agrees.

He pulled his communicator from his pocket and flipped the grid open. He switches the device to transmit on the Starfleet emergency frequency.

"This is Lieutenant Durham Cole. Anyone on this channel, please respond."

[Davy, aka GM]

The line is silent, although the other five communicators beep to announce his call in the clear. After a few moments, the security chief repeats the announcement, and again a third time a minute later. As he's about to make a fourth call, the communicator's speaker comes to life.

"Forty-Six-Charlie. Mu-Kappa-Victor-Papa."

All of the officers recognized the response as code. Specifically, it refers to Starfleet Regulation 46C, which refers to procedures for determining the identity of another caller over communications when transmissions are potentially being monitored. The follow-on code refers to the Mark V (MkV) Photon torpedo, specifically, its yield of 135 Petajoules, usually expressed as "One-Three-Five-Peta."

[Renny]

Cole looks up at the others in surprise. He knows the code, of course, but it seems almost incongruous in this setting. He raises the communicator again.

"One-Three-Five-Peta"

[Davy, aka GM]

The reply to his confirmation is almost immediate, and decidedly lighter in tone.

"We see you. Go around to your left, and we'll meet you halfway."

Looking up, the landing party sees a figure silhouetted against the sky, which waves three times before disappearing. Following instructions, they round the base of the hill and ascend via the low slope they found earlier. And, as promised, about ten Starfleet uniformed officers and crewmen come down the hillside to meet them halfway up. Their numbers include three in security windsor green (two of them in armor), two in command white, two in operations/sciences gray, and three in operations yellow ochre; the command and security types are holding phaser 2s, while the rest have phaser 1s.

At the lead is a young security department ensign, who's, apparently, still green enough that his turtleneck is red. However, the handsome young Terran comes off as self-assured and comfortable in his own skin, and even lets slip a slight smile at the newcomers' dress.

"Gone native, have we?" he says with a strong English accent.

OOC: The officer in question is being played by Hero Fiennes Tiffin.

[Renny]

"Never hurts to blend in," Cole answers with a shrug. "Who's in command here?"

[Davy, aka GM]

"Sorry, but he'd have my guts for garters if I answered that before finding out who you are," he replies.

Chief Dhall rolls his eyes and answers, "Landing party for USS Drake. This is Lt. Cole. Now, answer the man. Sir."

"Ah, yes, well. Captain Styles is in charge, sir. He's in the command area. Come on."

The survivors escort the landing party back to their camp. The natural plateau is open, with groups clustered in various sections. The far side, which rests up against the slightly-elevated "peak" (if one could call it that), has one section set aside for a makeshift sickbay and another, not far away, what appears to be the "command area," as the ensign put it.

Closer to the entrance is a small eating area to the left, and small pup tents ready to be set up in the largest section of the right and middle. Beyond the eating area is the battery and solar collector configuration, being tended to by five or six officers and crewmen. In all, there are some 25-30 survivors in the camp, not including the escort.

The newcomers are regarded with interest, and, knowing how fast rumors can spread on a ship, the landing party is pretty sure everyone knows they're Starfleet. And the recognition in their eyes isn't lost on the survivors, as relief begins to filter into their expressions.

The ensign leads them toward the rear of the camp, where they find the commanding officer. The legendary rise and sudden fall of Captain Lawrence E. R. Styles is known to any Starfleet officer or crewman, and, as such, he's instantly recognizable even halfway across the compound, complete with his trademark air of superiority. And, yes, his swagger stick is in hand.

As they approach, the ensign introduces the the landing party, "Lt. Cole and crew from USS Drake."

Styles appears to sigh. "I half-expected the Enterprise," he says. "Thank you, Mr. Reed. Mr. Cole, your arrival couldn't have come too soon. I have 35 officers and crew here, and at least fifty captured, based on the last transmission I received from my first officer, who are in dire need of relief. On top of that, we may be reaching a crisis point in the war effort between the locals; based on our most-recent scans, the Apellans were working through the night, possibly in shifts. Combine that with scans showing more extensive training for their warriors, something is coming, and soon. The Klingon attack on us confirmed it.

"We're going to need all of your resources to determine what they're doing and counter it. How fast can you get us back to your ship?"

[Renny]

"Let me have you speak with Captain Treyva, sir" Cole answers.

He flips the communicator open and opens a secured channel, just in case.

"Landing party to Drake. Put me through to the Captain, I have Captain Styles here."

[Davy, aka GM]

"Stand by."

A moment later, Captain Treyva's voice can be heard on the comms. "Treyva here."

Cole hands Styles the communicator, and the captain takes a step away from the group. "Treyva? Styles, here. I need you to bring up my people - we have seven injured, two critically, and a bigger problem looming on the horizon. I'm going to need everything you can give me to solve it. What's the capacity of your fabbers?"

There's a pause on the other end of the line, and the captain responds, "Why don't we bring you and your crew up and get the wounded tended to first, and discuss the rest once you're aboard, Captain?"

Styles frowns, but accepts the suggestion and returns to the landing party to hand the communicator back to Lt. Cole. "Coordinate with Mr. Reed on the evacuation," he orders. "I'll have my people dismantle the camp equipment for transport to your cargo deck."

The work takes some time, but the Rostov's crew is efficient in its tasking. The wounded are transported up immediately, and others followed as soon as their portion of the camp strike was complete. The last to return are Styles and his engineers, who had put the various supplies and equipment in lots for the cargo transporter to pick up, a little more than an hour after first contact with the landing party.

Styles insists on meeting with Treyva right away, and he and Ensign Reed are escorted to the main briefing room. In attendance are Sorak, Tobin, and Cole.

"Treyva; I don't think we've met before, but I appreciate your timely arrival just the same," Styles says by way of greeting. Looking around at the surroundings, he adds, "I see they gave the Constellations the same bridge-briefing room configuration as the Kievs; mine looked exactly like this."

OOC: Okay, new scene. All of the principle PCs are in the briefing room (save Dourap, who is in sickbay with patients).

[Patrick Goodman]

Treyva looked around. "Truth is, I'm still getting used to it," he said. "This is the first new ship I've ever been posted on; there's considerably more space than on the Anton class."

He motioned for the two officers to have a seat. "This Commander Sorak, my XO and chief engineer; Lieutenant Commander Les, my chief science officer; and you've already met Lieutenant Cole, my chief of security." Taking a seat of his own, he said, "Pete Grantham was one of my new kids, when I was CSO on tbe Hermes. He was a good scientist; I'm sorry he wasn't one of the survivors."

[Davy, aka GM]

Styles nods, forced stoicism hiding a sting all too familiar to Treyva. "Grantham was good man and a better officer," he answers. "Did you know he had twins? Two boys, the spitting image of him. I'm not looking forward to transmitting that letter to his wife."

He pauses, and seems to flip a switch, and whatever vulnerabilities that may have been glimpsed are gone. "How familiar are you gentlemen with the situation on the ground? Starfleet's mission here?"

[Doug Burke]

Sorak took the lead by replying, "Starfleet's goal on Neural for the past twenty years has been you maintain the technological balance between the two main factions of the planet's war, in direct opposition to Klingon attempts to disrupt it." He turned his full stoicism on Styles a here recounted, "Planetside, the war had ground on ever since it first flared up, with the last major push for peace being met with assassination and reciprocal dearth and destruction. Most current analysis, including the destruction of the Rostov seems to indicate the Klingons may be running out of patience and are likely pushing for more advances than they have been satisfied with in the past."