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warp_corinthCosette glanced down at her PADD and began to speak, her voice too soft and too sweet, though matched the mission at hand. "So, as you've been briefed, according to biological scans, we should be able to find a handful of plants here that seem to have the same genetic makeup as the plants we'd otherwise find on Earth: Aloe vera, Centella asiatica, Paullinia cupana, and Hypericum perforatum. I've--"
"Calendula maritima, too." Bahorel cut in, startling Cosette, who blinked up at his interjection. In brief explanation, a little gruffly, "That particular species has been extinct on Earth for a handful of centuries now, so it won't be in the database, and there doesn't seem to be a lot of it around here as is."
Cosette nodded, though it was nearly more a disconcerted quiver in confusion than it was any inclination of the head. Bahorel continued, unperturbed, to the rest of the retrieval crew. "If anyone finds it, grab me or Fauchelevent. Don't fuck around with it; Joly'll find good use for it (so long as no one's allergic), and the last thing you want on this lost-in-space adventure is to upset your CMO." His gruffness gave way to a slightly sentimental touch, though, a slightly softer tone. "And even if he can't, at least we'll be able to take some home with us; if it's managed to last out here, maybe we'll be able to reintroduce the strain on Earth."
"Good to know that the lieutenant has his priorities in check!" Bossuet murmured to the person nearest him.
With a nod of approval to continue from Bahorel, Cosette picked up where she'd left off, eyes set on her team. "All of the aforementioned plants and what they should look and scan like have been uploaded to your tricorders. We shall disperse as discussed earlier, and meet back here in 0300 hours. Are there any questions?"
"Calendula maritima, too." Bahorel cut in, startling Cosette, who blinked up at his interjection. In brief explanation, a little gruffly, "That particular species has been extinct on Earth for a handful of centuries now, so it won't be in the database, and there doesn't seem to be a lot of it around here as is."
Cosette nodded, though it was nearly more a disconcerted quiver in confusion than it was any inclination of the head. Bahorel continued, unperturbed, to the rest of the retrieval crew. "If anyone finds it, grab me or Fauchelevent. Don't fuck around with it; Joly'll find good use for it (so long as no one's allergic), and the last thing you want on this lost-in-space adventure is to upset your CMO." His gruffness gave way to a slightly sentimental touch, though, a slightly softer tone. "And even if he can't, at least we'll be able to take some home with us; if it's managed to last out here, maybe we'll be able to reintroduce the strain on Earth."
"Good to know that the lieutenant has his priorities in check!" Bossuet murmured to the person nearest him.
With a nod of approval to continue from Bahorel, Cosette picked up where she'd left off, eyes set on her team. "All of the aforementioned plants and what they should look and scan like have been uploaded to your tricorders. We shall disperse as discussed earlier, and meet back here in 0300 hours. Are there any questions?"
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Date: 2014-06-25 10:41 pm (UTC)"Bossuet is our security detail here on the ground; he'll be with Cosette and myself. Bahorel, Feuilly, you will make up the senior team, and will stay more central here, to base the the rendezvous-point. Our team will be traveling a little deeper on-planet. Check in if there's anything unusual, and give updates every half hour as to status and coordinates."
With that said, Combeferre nodded. "Dismissed. Good luck." With a brief smile, before turning to his team. "Cosette? Lead the way."
Feuilly merely stepped over to Bahorel, tricorder out. "It would be simpler if we split up. There are no signs of life on the planet, aside from plant, and while we have been unable to scan the core due to high density of minerals, I believe a threat to be minimal." Though, considering who he was speaking to- "Provided you do not attempt to ingest anything poisonous, or anger a razor plant."
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Date: 2014-06-25 11:16 pm (UTC)"I believe that the Centella and Paullinia we're looking for should be most populous along this way," she informed them as they cautiously stepped across the threshold from rock into foliage that was strangely more red than green.
Bossuet glanced at his PADD to memorize a few aspects of the two plants and snorted a little before putting it away. "Normally I might say the latter should be easier to find in all the green, but I suppose that'd just be far too easy, wouldn't it?"
In the meanwhile, Bahorel raised a brow at the other senior officer and scoffed goodnaturedly. "I could say the same for you, Feuilly; I'm not the one with a constant hankering for leaves, after all."
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Date: 2014-06-25 11:30 pm (UTC)"I think we'll be in luck, actually-" To Bossuet. "There's some up ahead, the Ensign is correct."
Feuilly merely raised a brow at his returned banter. "Not only am I not hungry at the moment, having correctly prepared myself nutrient-wise for the away mission, but in being more versed in which plants are suitable for consumption, this is less of a danger for me than you. Your assumption, therefore, is illogical."
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Date: 2014-06-25 11:58 pm (UTC)Cosette pushed back a veil of leaves and held it open for Combeferre and Lesgle to step through. "There's a patch of something that reads like poison ivy in this direction; we should skirt around the long way in that direction." Pointing.
An eye roll to the expected logical answer. "'course you did, you plant-killer. But that's why I need to make sure you don't try to eat this super-rare strain of marigolds; I don't have any intention of eating them ever." Nudging past him with a grin.
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Date: 2014-06-26 12:12 am (UTC)"Well, I wouldn't joke about that- we are very edible, though hopefully not to their tastes." He ached to take some aboard for sampling, to dissect, but... he was hardly the lead science officer, and it wasn't worth risking a plague infection, he was sure. "Perhaps some of them are edible, though." He did note, without any irony, in what was perhaps a gently moping voice.
"I would like to avoid the poison ivy, however. Let me go first, just in case." He gave, doing just that, re-routing on his map.
"I have no taste for marigolds, rare or no." Insisted, shaking his head. "And of course you would not, if they have been extinct. You have never tasted them." Never one to take a joke correctly, as he followed along.
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Date: 2014-06-26 12:52 am (UTC)She glanced up from her tricorder, satisfied with their course correction. "Rumour?" she asked curiously.
"That those who follow along the officers' track always have the same way of handling personal priorities on their first missions: sad, sad denial." A bit of a wink to share the joke with Cosette, whose brow furrowed a bit in confusion but still bit her lip in a sympathetic smile regardless. "Makes you wonder about Alexis, though, since so far as any of us can tell, his personal priority's just always been to be Captain."
Then, more directly to Combeferre, dryly, "I'm sure we'll have plenty of opportunity to collect samples off our skin if the humidity continues to rise any further." And it would have been getting hotter and slightly damper the deeper into the not-quite-"forest" they were traveling into, and the air had gotten thicker with the flutter of wings. "And our lungs," appended uncomfortably as he tried to bat more of the flying creatures away from his face.
"Well, duh." Snorting a little; Feuilly and jokes blended as well as oil and water, sigh. "My point being that you might. It's not every day you get to try a new ingredient in your sad and meatless meals, right?"
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Date: 2014-06-26 01:10 am (UTC)But then he heard Alexis' name, and was instantly tuned back in.
"The Captain has always seen to it that his personal priorities are to further the goals of Starfleet, and in line with the safety of his-" Friends. "-crew." Though upon thinking about it, on a more personal note, he'd add, "That, and progress." That was Alexis' personal mission, in general. It just happened to be in line with many of Starfleet's tenants.
"And as much as I'd like to collect samples from up your nose, Ensign, the bugs will stay out of your mouth if you talk less. Which may be wise, towards the goal of not alerting anything that we're coming." Which just seemed like an apt precaution, life signs or no. Though how anything could live in this heat...
"My meals cannot be 'sad', as the food on my plate lacks sentience." Feuilly moved ahead of Bahorel then, to the first collection area, to begin unearthing samples at the root. "Nonetheless, your concern is noted, but unnecessary."
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Date: 2014-06-26 04:57 am (UTC)A bit of a scoff, but raising a hand in acquiescence as much as to bat again at the thicker cloud of bugs surrounding his face. "Aye-aye, Commander."
Cosette coughed a little through the cloud of bugs, raising a hand to cover her nose and mouth somewhat as the cloud thickened. "C-Commander..." Initial scans hadn't said anything about such a dense cloud of insect life here... "Scans are indicating that the larger bugs might actually be the source of all this heat..."
Bossuet yelped a little, and shook his hand, as if that would stop the welt on his hand from forming. "I can corroborate that with empirical evidence, Commander." Putting the burn to his lips in an effort to cool it down some.
"Different kind of 'sad,'" Bahorel insisted, pushing back a frond of foliage as it came snapping back towards him behind the Vulcan. "How did you even pass Nuances of Languages, anyway?"
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Date: 2014-07-09 01:05 am (UTC)"...Larger bugs?" A brow quirked. "In which direction? Also, breathing tubes. I guess I wasn't being ironic, about keeping your mouth closed. Whatever just bit you, you don't need to re-enact." Reaching into his side pouch, he whipped out a breather, settling the mouth piece in against his teeth quickly, expecting Bossuet could direct them safely by hand. These were usually only used under water, but, well... better not to accidentally ingest alien life forms, right? Or spores, come to think of it, on such an overgrown planet. The filtration system was safest.
Taking out his own PADD, he went to send Bahorel a ping in notification; Life Signs, Insect. Possibly Large. Keep a lookout.
"Nuances of Language was not a class required for Engineers with high-level science backgrounds. It is, very often, not required for Vulcans in general, as we understand the true nuance of language better than the implied influences humans put into their speech patterns. Having such personalized language patterns causes confusion and triggers an emotional response when tone is misunderstood." Pushing up a branch, he went on, "For example. You call Lieutenant Prouvaire 'Petit.' The meaning is 'small.' He is, indeed, smaller than you. However, because humans add needless personal emotions to words and their definitions, you mean it as a term of endearment- 'friend', or 'good friend', in the same manner a nickname would serve. However, to an outsider listening, who had studied classical French linguistics, they might relate it to petit mignon, and assume you two had coupled. This would be an awkward and embarrassing assumption for both you and your mates. Therefore, it would be better if you simply called him 'Lieutenant.' Language has endless nuance; most of it irrelevant."
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Date: 2014-07-09 01:54 am (UTC)Cosette pushed a vine out of the way. "Do you mean from which direction, Commander? I'm not certain; it seems as though scans are showing a higher density of these bugs coming from the northwest. But it's hard to tell; they're still not registering as lifeforms on scans; just as heat signatures." Like something was blocking their tricorders from determining what the insects were, much as the density of minerals in the planet's crust had blocked their ship's scanners from penetrating to examine the core...
Pulling his injury from his lips to inspect it, Bossuet added, "And I don't know, Commander, but this just looks like a burn, not a bite, to be honest with you. If that's the case, we should definitely be careful, move to a cooler area and skirt around the bugs." Holding out his tricorder and pointing it in a direction until he found one that seemed to dip in temperature. "Better than being roasted alive in a cloud of these things, right? This way."
Both Cosette and Bossuet put in their own breathers as the latter traipsed forward.
Eventually, the heat would begin to subside, and the cloud of bugs would dissipate enough to breathe unaided again until only the original smaller versions of those bugs were buzzing about them. Scans, too, would start to ping that they were near the Paullinia patch, that more careful eyes and tricorder scans would be required to identify the proper set of plantlife.
Pulling out her mouthpiece, Cosette wet her lips to speak. "Commander, this seems to be a good spot to harvest some Paullinia."
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Listening to Feuilly talk about said nuances of language was about as infuriating as watching Courfeyrac lift weights -- though, admittedly, it was also somewhat entertaining in much the same manner, as well.
"Irrelevant? Nuance is plenty relevant, even the wrong bits. Makes life more interesting." Flashing a grin.
Catching the ping, Bahorel sent back an affirmation of reception to Combeferre before turning to Feuilly. "Looks like the Commander and company have a bit of a pest problem. Keep a lookout for 'large bugs,' apparently." Raising a brow. "There aren't supposed to be any life forms on here, though... Do you think something in the ship's scanners might've been thrown out of alignment during the anomaly?"
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Date: 2014-07-09 04:13 am (UTC)"Not registering as lifeforms..." Thinking aloud, rather than simply repeating her. Turning, with a little bit of flat surprise, he remarked, "Maybe they're not." It wasn't a definitive conclusion, but, well. "It's possible that lifeforms closer to the center of the planet, or even from a nearby planet, use the surface as a greenhouse. It isn't unlikely to think that they might be mechanized, to see that the surface remains optimally temperate to growth. Either that, or their own mineral makeup is so close to that of the core's properties that they read as simply being a part of it. Either way..." Taking a deep breath of the muggy air, which was at least free and clear of pests, at the moment. "...we're a noticeable intrusion on the ecosystem here, and the ecosystem has hotter guns than us. That means I'm clocking it. Ten minutes. Collect what you can, then I'm requesting beam up at our current locations. No rendezvous-point. Collect as much of the Paullinia plant as possible. Don't worry if it's not full stock..." He'd use his replicator rations to cover for it. "Keep your breathers in. Bossuet, I'm going to have you beamed directly to medbay on return- it might be the heat that burned you, but it also could be acid-based. We're not taking any chances. Your ten minutes begin now."
Turning away from them, he went to hit his communications badge, to connect to Bahorel.
"Come in, Lieutenant."
------
Feuilly, decidedly unimpressed, soldiered on through the landscape undeterred by the topic of conversation.
"Survival, arguably, and reproduction, are what make life worth living." More to himself, as he couldn't help the correction, rather than Bahorel, whom he knew would not accept it. Raising a brow, however, he went to check his own PADD. "Odd- there were no trace signs of insect life on our first sweep. Perhaps it would be wise to mention to the Captain that we should have the sensors checked; yes." He agreed, before hearing the comm ping. "I believe the pest problem has an update."
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Date: 2014-07-09 05:15 am (UTC)"Yes, Commander!" Cosette chirped, moving to collect what she could, as quickly as she could, once she'd found a patch of the plant. There was so much flora around that she found herself briefly distracted on occasion, but kept herself as focused on the task at hand as she could.
Something concerned her, though, as she scanned, dug, and tapped dirt clods from plant roots as efficiently as if it were her only job: there didn't seem to be a reason for the bugs to be so hot, or to produce any sort of acid, naturally or synthetically... As much as these plants were good cures for burns and as pain relievers, they weren't exactly resistant to either heat or acid; a harmonious ecosystem might not exactly allow the two of them to cohabitate with one another as a result.
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"So Vulcans don't believe in having fun. What else is new?" Snorting, holding his tricorder out as it indicated they were nearing a patch of Aloe vera; heading in that direction even as he tapped his badge to take in the call. "I've got you loud and clear, Commander."
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Date: 2014-07-09 06:12 am (UTC)Now, there were a number of solutions, in Combeferre's opinion, for the problem Cosette's mind had presented. Endless solutions, in fact, since they didn't really understand what the problem was. Why would they need to produce so much heat? To balance out particularly frigid evenings. To foster a plant type specific to their eating habits, that only thrived in incredibly tropic locations. To break down plant membrane, to get to their real food source. To destroy plant life, introduced as a catalyst. To give off mating pheromones. To dissuade predators. Endless answers. They just weren't sure which question to be asking yet.
"Lieutenant? Good. I'm ordering a beam-aboard in ten minutes. Turns out the life here is not especially friendly to our own continued existence. Gather as much as you can, as quickly as you can, in those ten minutes. Copy?"
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Date: 2014-07-09 09:18 am (UTC)While he spoke, Bahorel kneeled down, admiring a smaller bush of the plant almost reverently before pulling out a small trowel. He tapped at the earth around the plant and listened to the sound carefully. Frowning a little, he reached around to grab his hip flask, untwist the cap, and pour the water around its fronds. Brushing a thumb along one of the "leaves" gently before standing again.
"Five minutes to find Hypericum and Calendula." A grin split the terse expression on his face some. "You seem to have a thing for efficiency, so you up for the challenge, Feuilly?"
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Date: 2014-07-09 04:56 pm (UTC)"We have a patch of Paullinia. I'm going to go for the Centella myself, after informing Engineering about the beam up. If you're with the ale now, great; take what you can in two minutes. Split up to spend the other eight on the other marks. Have Feuilly track the Hypericum, and you get the Calendula, since you're more aware of its properties. As a precaution, I want you both to put breathers in. I'll have Engineering let us know at the two and one minute marks. Out." He signaled his goodbye, before switching his comm over to connect with the ship and engineering, getting to his feet to rack the Centella on his PADD at the same time.
Unfortunately, with Feuilly on planet, that meant the person operating the beam up pad was... "Montparnasse, come in. New orders."
Feuilly, for his part, simply knelt beside Bahorel and opened his plant casing; it held six plots, the same as Bahorel's would. "Two each. Strong roots are best." A nod, almost to his earlier comment. "I can appreciate the efficiency." With that, he got started.
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Date: 2014-07-10 06:43 am (UTC)------------
"We'll be awaiting the call, Commander. Good luck with those bugs. Over and out!"
"Feuilly." To call the Vulcan's attention up; attentive enough to know that Vulcans and physical contact wasn't exactly the best combo. He shook his head and pointed out the soil he'd dampened to him. "The ground's way too dry and the leaves aren't as plump as they should be, like it's been drought season or something for a while around here."
Glancing around at the other plants surrounding them, and now that he was no longer paying attention to Combeferre's report, he was able to note that everything around them looked a bit wilted, brittle, in shades of yellow and brown rather than the lusher greens and deeper reds just a few steps outside of the clearing they'd just come across. Succulents were certainly capable of surviving in a drier climate, but a climate didn't typically concentrate so specifically that a small clearing of aloe vera would experience a higher temperature than its neighbouring foliage...
"At least, around just here." Rubbing his nose a little, because his sinuses were now sensitive to the abnormal dryness he was beginning to notice around him, before continuing to explain. "A transplant'll shock them into useless weeds, and we'll be back to square one, especially if we're carrying them around with us for another ten. We don't have enough time to do this properly, but we can at least let them drink what they can while we find the other plants."
Bahorel turned his tricorder in a few different directions, including up, searching not for the other two plants, but for heat signatures in the immediate area; nothing, really, so just a frown. "We'll swing back and grab 'em on the way back, and hope it's enough to keep them viable for the beam up." A pause. Then muttered, "So long as they're not burnt to a crisp by the time we get back..."
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Date: 2014-07-10 06:59 am (UTC)It was awkward to speak with him, ever since Alexis- ever since the Captain had reprimanded him demotion of the Crewman.
Nonetheless, as they did need to get a move on with this... "Insects, actually. Particularly deadly ones. I need you to start a ten minute countdown and on that mark, beam everyone on planet back aboard."
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It didn't take Feuilly long to notice the same signs. However, though Bahorel had his attention, he did not look up, mind already pacing on towards a solution, which formed at the edge of it. Sitting back on his heels, he gave Bahorel an arch glance at last, then reached up and removed his own badge.
"Our badges have a two foot by two foot beam radius. Contact Engineering. Let them know you intend to beam aboard and then directly back on planet, at multiple intervals. Assign my badge to the needed plant life; have it beamed directly the the agriculture department. You will accompany it to see that it makes it there safely, and to give specific orders for nature and care of the plants before return. Three trips, in ten minutes. It is viable, and it will assure that we get all three strains, with minimal loss or damage to root or foliage."
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Date: 2014-07-10 08:38 am (UTC)The report had been clear enough, too; the way it had been phrased had garnered a puff of laughter aloud from Lucien's lips, titillated him. Father hadn't been impressed, it seemed, and Mother had lost her footing. Poor thing.
But work, yes, work. Work was something Lucien was actually quite proficient at, and right now, this news provided a bit of a quandary.
"Insects?" Lucien frowned, checked the scan results again, reran them, even, which continued to show no lifeforms on the planet. "Scans are still reading back negatory on any non-crew or non-botanical lifeforms..."
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Bahorel returned a questioning brow at that arch look, while he watched dubiously as Feuilly took off his badge. Listening carefully to the other's plan, his frown turned to one of curious consideration rather than concerned judgment. "... You're onto something there." A pause. "But I don't like the idea of leaving you stranded here without communications in the meanwhile. Whatever did this--" Gesturing to the superheated area. "--could come back at any instant, or Combeferre's ghost bugs could attack, and it doesn't do us any favours to lose our Head of Engineering this far from home."
Crossing his arms and pacing a little to think. "Gagnier..." The head botanist, who had been put in charge of setting up their makeshift garden system in the agriculture department. "He'll know what to do with the strains, so all you'll have to do is play escort. If we could get a third or a fourth badge down here, then whoever's left can find the next spot, get the new coordinates ready for beam-down?"
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Date: 2014-07-11 05:17 am (UTC)But, now was not the time.
"Well, then the scans are either grossly misleading due to sensor malfunction or a planetary disruption, or they're not alive, or we're hallucinating; no matter which hypothesis fits the bill, yes, Insects, and ten minutes Crewman. Am I understood?" He needed that confirmation before he could continue his own scouting expedition. He hoped, in the spirit of cooperation, it would come easily. Professionally. And then be done.
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"The Commander said ten minutes." He returned, glancing back at Bahorel, and momentarily away from their charge. "No time to inform Gagnier, have the Captain approve him for the mission officially, and still collect within that time. No; it is easier if you use my badge, and while you are aboard, I narrow down the next locale of plant species needed."
His voice had a clear, non-nonsense tone that was more than just his Vulcan heritage; he believed his plan was valid, and, perhaps moreso, that it would work without need for such baseless worrying. He was, after all, a real Starfleet; not a cadet, forced to play with one.
"Please arrange the badge against the plants you would like in the radius. I will contact engineering." And then, he would indeed stick his breather in, after; as ordered, as a precaution.
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Date: 2014-07-13 12:25 am (UTC)He'd allow the thought to hang ominously there, as he lazily input a few boops and beeps. It wasn't long before he purred, "Clock set at ten minutes, Commander~ Shall I await your command for beam-up? I don't imagine the Captain would appreciate accidentally capturing a bunch of pretend bugs on board, after all."
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Ah, yes, there were those things called "protocol" and "chain of command." If there were any such thing as inefficiency, Bahorel would call those two things it -- effective for the general state of ships, but in emergencies or situations that had a strict time limit?
Frowning, Bahorel finally acquiesced with a shrug. "Fine, we'll do it your way." Taking the badge from Feuilly, setting it against the plants in an optimal arrangement. He tapped his badge and called into the transport room. "Montparnasse, this is Bahorel. Two to beam up immediately to Ag Bay. Reassign Lt. Feuilly's badge to the DNA signature of the Aloe vera plant; we will be bringing up at least two samples, so make sure that happens; my badge may remain assigned to humanoid lifeforms. This'll be one of three such trips."
"Understood, Lieutenant." Lucien's voice would slip into the realm of professional for Bahorel, though one who listened especially cautiously might find that the edges of his words were frostier than necessary, even in their honeyed laziness. "Badge reassigned from humanoid to botanical, and commencing beam-up now."
"See ya soon!" Glancing down at his badge once the transmission was completed, though, and fiddling to readjust it, Bahorel called out to catch the Vulcan's attention. "Oh, and hey, Feuilly." Once the attention was received, he tossed his unpinned badge at his companion in an easy lob, offering a wink as the transport light flickered around Feuilly's vision. "500 meters south-southwest. Three minutes. Don't be late!"
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Date: 2014-07-15 09:07 am (UTC)Combeferre didn't know what that meant, beyond the fact that it couldn't be anything good. A jab, aimed at a chink in his armour he didn't even know existed. Laced with poison maybe, that he'd understand later.
Or, right away.
There it was, tethered into the word 'Captain.' It was coloured now with a total lack of protection, a warm, fresh bout of humiliation deep in his gut. Their difference of opinion, publicly.
Luckily for Montparnasse, there were no lower ranks than Crewman to be demoted to.
Trying to keep in mind that he did have a job to do (while simultaneously trying to lock out the fact that Alexis wouldn't be happy with how he'd chosen to do it, the time constraint for safety's sake, by the book...), he pressed, "No. Beam up without my order on the off-chance-" however slim- "that something goes wrong."
Maybe that statement sounded like the mistakes of a young commander, tripping over regulations, overly worried about protocols and getting everyone back on board without so much as a thorn in their side. But Rene had been a doctor first, not a commander. He'd seen how quickly things could go wrong first hand. He wasn't taking any chances.
Not with bodies that would have to be buried so far from home, or burn victims who might not get a skin graft any time soon.
"Am I understood, Crewman?" His voice delineated no nonsense. No more jabs would be permitted, not right now.
Do your job. I have one too.
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Feuilly put out a hand and easily caught the badge, his head tilting just so. Confusion. Not over what was happening- he understood that perfectly well, and it was affirmed as he materialized on board the Corinth. But rather, as to why Bahorel had arbitrarily decided not to take the transport role. After all, as a Vulcan, he has a higher likelihood of survival, should something go wrong on such a warm planet.
Human emotion led to errors of logic. He did not need to be protected.
He also did not need to complain, however. Having no time for that, he shook off the confusion, and began the task at hand, in the agricultural bay.
He would have to remind Lieutenant Bahorel later about the fallacy of his statement. This had not been 'doing it his way.'
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Date: 2014-07-18 10:45 am (UTC)"See you in ten, Commander~"
Lucien raised a brow as he adjusted the transport beam to align more appropriately with Vulcan DNA as his superior materialized in the Agriculture Bay, rather than their weapons specialist. Well, he hadn't quite expected that from Ambrose.
... Er, Bahorel, that is. Montparnasse scoffed and set the ship's scanners to track the remaining four crew members on the planet's surface.
Upon completing his farewell to Feuilly, said lieutenant would have begun at a sprint in said direction: south-southwest, 500 meters. It would only take him about a minute and a half to get there, providing him another minute to pinpoint and identify the plant, and then a half a minute to fend off whatever monsters might be hiding in the brush.
Bahorel was nearly disappointed when he did not come across any unexpected lifeforms, or any more superheated clearings on his way to the Hypericum, or ... well, anything of note at all. In fact, he stumbled upon the Hypericum itself quite easily, too, that a whole field of clumps of it grew rampantly about. Somewhat deflated, he began to harvest what he could in that final minute he'd have left before Feuilly returned.
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Date: 2014-07-18 09:06 pm (UTC)Stuffing his breather into his mouth after ending communication, Combeferre took out his PADD to track the Centella. He turned and made a gesture to Cosette to show he was going north for it, putting up a palm to show Bossuet he should stay with her. Then he was off.
Feuilly did his part, as he was assigned it. After seeing the Aloe safely on board, he prepared to beam back to get the second plant that was his duty to safeguard, leaving the last, the Hypericum to Bahorel. If he had any spare time, he might check for a few more indigenous plants, perhaps fruit-bearing; they could be of future importance to the crew, if unrecognizable to its scanners.
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Date: 2014-07-28 08:29 am (UTC)In fact, it didn't take much longer before they finished collecting their samples and began to scan about for other potentially useful flora. Cosette discovered a few strains of what seemed to be edible fungi, and directed Ensign Lesgle to inform the Commander while she gathered a plot's worth as a potential addition to their food sources. They would never know just how long they'd be out here, after all, and in the case that it turned out to be inedible, at least Lt. Gagnier would have an opportunity to study the saprotroph -- and how it could possibly survive in what seemed to be such a warm-weather environment...
Félicien's message read as follows:
Ever the obscure twenty-nth century pop culture geek, that one. He smirked up at Cosette when she finally stood and gestured him to follow her a little deeper into the forest again.
---------
Quickly snapping the last compartment closed, Bahorel awaited Feuilly's return for pickup. A quick scan would still indicate no hostile life signs, no large bugs of any nature, and no strange temperature patterns in his immediate surroundings, either.
But when the small scrapes still gracing his face and knuckles from the anomaly began to burn, Bahorel frowned. That ... shouldn't make any sense, considering those had more or less healed and scabbed over by now, merely being superficial wounds. Nevertheless, he lifted an arm to wipe his brow free of sweat (it was warm enough to warrant it despite such a short sprint, after all), but the back of his hand came away dry, and his fresh-skinned knuckles only burned harder.
A deeper frown. He had had the good judgment to at least keep the filtered breathing device in his mouth through his sprint here, but this could be a problem... Running his tricorder to identify the composition of the air surrounding him, Bahorel then whipped out his PADD and typed quickly to Combeferre:
And if his Commander would insist that he beam back aboard immediately?
Without his badge, there was no way for Bahorel to contact anyone on-board, let alone get beamed up for treatment, so he hoped to high hell that nothing had happened to Combeferre or the others.
In the meanwhile, he detached the full containers from his belt and set it in the center of the clearing before making his way through the tall grass around him; he'd need to find the source of the pollen, in case the symptoms got worse and required more knowledge of its properties. Besides, nothing was coming up with a ping for his cherished Calendula, so it wouldn't hurt to start looking a little earlier than his rendezvous with Feuilly, now that he'd realized Combeferre could relate his location to the Vulcan by proxy.
Problem solving...! Bahorel grinned as he set out to search for the offending plant.
{{ ACRONYMS || OB: On Board. | LOC: Location (coordinates). | BD: Beam Down. | SVP: S'il Vous Plaît. | MR6: Merci. }}
no subject
Date: 2014-08-16 03:56 pm (UTC)A sigh through his breather, and he flipped to the communications square.
To Bossuet:
Jon Snow? I'm nearly there. Only send emergency communications, light on time.
Reminded, before sliding the screen over to reveal Bahorel's message.
Expression dimming, his body tensed as he fired off a quicker reply:
Beam to medical, Crewman M. in beaming bay prepared for-
Ah. And then the second ping arrived.
Snorting through his nose with a groan, he deleted the last, and relayed a message to Feuilly and Montparnasse instead, copying from Bahorel's:
Lt. B at -25.35445, -9.48384. Beam Lt. F + Badge to locale. Lt. F to take Calendula IF within a one-minute range of location. Lt. B to be beamed directly to sickbay.
Then, to Bahorel:
Wait there. Run scans for Calendula. If within a one-minute range of pickup, Lt. F will arrange. You are being beamed to SB.
To Bossuet, and Cosette, then:
Pickup whatever you have and request immediate beam-back. Now. If you are missing a strain of anything, LMK. I will complete pickup.
To hell with it that Bossuet was the security, here. He wasn't seeing another friend harmed in this luckless adventure so far. Not still steeped in the bounds of week one.
Then, lastly, he thought he might send a message to Alexis, to keep him informed of what was happening on the ground, and abreast of Combeferre's decisive orders. ...No. On better thought, to Jehan. (No one could blame him for choosing to communicate directly to the Communications Officer on board, after all.)
J. Within 2Min, should have all aboard. I will take-
He paused to check his watch.
-6 extra. Please have an escort for team to medical for scans after the drop-off in agricultural. All flora should be contained, so as not to infect other plant-life aboard; possible spore and/or insect infestation. -C.
All right, then. Six minutes to gather his target, and whatever else the others had been unable to collect on the short surface mission. He'd make up for the low harvest in replicator rations, where he could produce at least three healthy copies of each plant if he decided he did not particularly need an officer's dinner for the next four weeks. Considering the amount of pressure he felt himself under, fasting seemed inevitable. So, then.
Come out, come out, wherever you are, Centella.
no subject
Date: 2014-08-20 06:39 am (UTC)At least, Félicien would wryly hope that that was the case; it would be just his luck that this was all a simulation, all being projected in their minds while they slept, only dreaming that they were launching into Real Space, on a Real Starship, on a Fake Mission, just to see how the cadets would react when presented with a life-and-death situation.
That, in turn, would explain why there were no cameras on board -- at least, to their knowledge, anyway. A handful of cadets had joked about it in the mess hall one day, and a paranoid Engineering cadet had adamantly insisted there weren't any, having checked during two of his off-hour shifts in lieu of sleep. Félicien would remember it clearly, because the kid from Engineering had caused quite a scene when he broke out into panicked tears, as no one else seemed to be concerned by the thought that they might never get home; what is wrong with you people?!, and needed to be ushered out by a friend. An awkward silence had descended across the room, where they'd all been trying to keep their heads up, their spirits lifted, using their Captain's encouraging speech from the announcement earlier that day to help them maintain their upward trajectory.
But he digressed.
Bossuet watched as Cosette began to gather a different set of plants, handed her his empty containers when she gestured for them, and secured her full ones to his waist. Typing back to Rene:
When Rene replied so swiftly, he frowned a little and read the message. He managed to grab Cosette's attention and pointed at his PADD.
Cosette nodded and straightened up, read Rene's message, and shot back a quick response while Bossuet sent one to Montparnasse:
She nodded in Bossuet's direction when she saw the message had sent, who only shook his head with a bit of a shrug.
At the confused look she returned to him, he simply removed his breather and tapped his badge. "Ensign Lesgle to Transport Room; have you received my message? Requesting immediate beam-up for myself and Fauchelevent." And popping his breather back in before awaiting the response.
Cosette's brow furrowed further as the lack of response staggered on; she, too, would pull out her breather, to try her badge in turn. "Montparnasse, do you read?"
Still, silence.
The thrill of a time limit would be enough to spur Bahorel forward, that he'd set his sights to coordinates that prioritized this mystery plant. His job came first, before his own personal wishes; in that, Bossuet would be wrong about his priorities. The safety of his crew was by far always going to be Bahorel's primary objective, even if it was at his own expense, that he'd send away his equals and his superiors back onboard just as quickly as he would his subordinates if he feared for their wellbeing.
He hoped that Bossuet was doing him proud in the meanwhile, and ensuring Cosette and Rene's safety. The cadet was a bit of a jokester and was often hardpressed to take things seriously, but when push came to shove, Bahorel knew the man to be coolheaded and rational despite being under duress, and would trust him to complete his mission and take the two back to the ship safely.
The density of pollen in the air seemed to indicate that Bahorel was getting close to the plant in question, but it increased so dramatically that simply breathing through the filter became difficult, as well, to say nothing about the searing pain that tore at his non-wounds.
Rounding the corner would bring to view a massive organism, debated as being plant or plantlike creature as it pulsed and belched pollen as though it were sentient, though scans would indicate the latter was highly unlikely. That ... was certainly not something that would be able to be beamed back, nope. Luckily, it seemed as though the pain remained restricted to recently healed wounds, that neither eyes nor the spaces around his fingernails or any other such crevice seemed to be affected by it; regardless, Bahorel would be swift about opening up an empty canister and capturing a thick cloudful of the pollen before re-securing it to his hip. At least the larger sample, untainted by his skin's oils, might be usable.
Bahorel scanned the organism to save its specs in his PADD's local database for future study, and then sprinted away from the plant as quickly as he could, in a direction that might possibly yield his second quarry.
Directing the following PADD messages to Combeferre and to Feuilly, with a pause between each new one:
And in case something were to happen to him, at least they'd have something to work with if the others'd ingested the pollen in trace amounts, as well.
However, as he would not have received affirmation of Feuilly's beamdown and/or a request for new coordinates, Bahorel assumed that Feuilly would not receive the message; not having a badge still made it impossible for his PADD to transmit all the way back to the Corinth, so he'd take matters into his own hands for now and continue the search until Combeferre could provide him with further instructions.
"Ground Team, do you read?" Lucien called again, addressing all three badges in use, to no effect. His eyes narrowed as he punched in several commands and received no blips on his screen; communications had suddenly gone down with the away team, and scanners weren't even picking up their badge signatures anymore. They were, however, picking up their life signs, that he could at least spot where all four of them were on the small planet. There were small miracles after all.
A quick glance at the clock: three and a quarter minutes left to go -- and negative fourteen seconds and counting for him to rectify whatever it was that had caused the sudden blackout.
"Transport Room to Bridge; I've lost contact with the ground team. I'm looking now for possible causes. Stand by." He narrowed the communications stream to the head of Engineering next. "Lt. Feuilly, beaming you back to Transport Bay on your mark; there's some sort of interference coming from the planet's surface preventing beam-up. Requesting assistance at your earliest convenience."
Suddenly, a flickered return of the northernmost blip. Lucien's voice was urgent and swift, businesslike and with none of the lazy disrespect from earlier; he couldn't afford to miss this chance in case communication cut again. "Commander, do you read? I've lost badge contact with Ensign Lesgle and Crewman Fauchelevent but still have them on scanners. They look to be moving north toward you..." He hesitated for a second as he watched the two blips move -- and move swiftly in Combeferre's direction. Frowning. "And at a running pace, too. ... Checking scans now."
Lucien glanced back over at another display console, brought up every array of scans, swiped each one aside, to see if he could find one that might capture something more than just those arbitrary pinpoints of-- Ah. His jaw set firm as he swapped to simultaneously address Combeferre, the Bridge, and Engineering all at once, urgent, and angrier more than anxious:
"Large, amorphous heat signature reading up to 376K shifting up from the southwest to pursue Lesgle and Fauchelevent at a sprinting speed of about 20.1 km/h, northward toward the Commander." His fingers flew over the console to try to estimate where he'd have to form a beam lock on the fleeing pair for the instant that they reappeared in range, trying to anticipate their movements and adjust the coordinates accordingly. In a near hiss as he worked, still aware that he was speaking over the intercom: "Am I the only person on this ship doing his job? What idiot was supposed to be monitoring heat signatures???"
{{ ACRONYMS || DSL: Désolé. | BU: Beam Up. | QCL: Quarantine Containment Level. | JIC: Just In Case. }}
no subject
Date: 2014-10-06 04:19 pm (UTC)And then, ah. There it was. Two minutes for crew; earlier than they should be back; and six minutes for him; later. It was a judgement call, and Rene didn't trust Alexis to agree with it, but he did trust himself to make it as the unit on the ground. Now it was time for Jehan's own judgement call, regarding the same...
When Montparnasse's voice crackled over the intercom, saying he'd lost contact...
Turning in his seat, speaking to Alexis directly: "Captain. The Commander last made contact with bridge one minute ago; note that his team was ready for beam-aboard." There. That was less 'give them two minutes', and far more 'they got the job done.' One couldn't argue with that. "He requested extra time to get his own catch into a containment pod." In other words, as the bridge team only knew that Montparnasse had lost contact, and nothing about the heat signatures yet- "Engineering should focus on beaming the ground team up before the commander, if they can get a lock. Please advise?"
He let his finger hover over the comm, for what response he should deliver to Montparnasse.
---------------------------
The moment Feuilly was in the transport room, he was stepping up beside Lucien, and making calibrations.
The solution was obvious, if difficult.
"If you have communication with the Commander, inform him we are doing a manual lock beam- on the Lieutenants first."
Bahorel and Combeferre both needed more time, and were in slightly less harrowing danger.
"After that, focus on Lt. Bossuet specifically." He would grab Fauchelevent. That way, neither of them were stepping on the other's toes, and there was a higher chance that at least one of them would succeed.
---------------------------
That Lucien had left the intercom on (the side-note to the bridge made Combeferre feel just great, thank you; all fine down here), he was able to hear Feuilly's relay, and spoke quickly, using his PAAD to search as he did.
"Lt. Bahorel needs to be beamed aboard with a Level Three containment field. He still needs a minute. I- I'm going to stay right here, and after you've grabbed those two, I'm going to need you to beam me to other coordinates on-planet." Risky, yes, especially with the shifting nature of the surface... but he couldn't come back empty-handed. Not after the humiliation with Montparnasse. So he'd find another area with the plant life he was looking for, and finish the collection mission before beam-aboard.
"Combeferre out."
Locating another patch, he sent the coordinates quickly before sighing, looking on ahead in the direction where Cosette and Felicien would be coming from, and steeled himself.
Then, wrote back to Bahorel:
You have one minute. Get it done.
Beware heat signatures.
See you on board.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-09 10:35 am (UTC)Rene was sending the team aboard ahead of time, and remaining alone for a little while longer... Though that did not bode well, he remembered again the last chat they had had regarding the chain of command, and forced himself to shake the feeling off.
"Have Engineering do what they must to get that lock; prioritize the ground team sans the Commander," Alexis agreed with a tight nod. "I trust the Commander's call, but if communications don't come back soon, he should still be locked on for emergency beam-up. Keep vigilant."
Feuilly's efficiency was something that Lucien would never fail to appreciate; if the Patron Minette were to have a contingency of Vulcans at hand, rather than half of the useless humans on board this ship, perhaps they wouldn't need to wait quite so long for their eventual rise.
"Sir--" he would go to affirm, though it seemed the Commander had overheard. Lucien snorted to himself silently as he moved to follow his commanding officer's order, tracing the life form blipping as it ran slightly ahead of its mate, focused.
He would leave the line open, however, that the Bridge would also hear Combeferre's report, that if he had left it on for the Commander to hear Feuilly, then surely the Captain could hear them, too -- at least until Combeferre cut the connection. It would be interesting, after all, to see just which trials by fire people were willing to forgive and forget, and which ones would further strengthen any bonds.
Thénardier had ordered that Lucien should monitor the situation and make himself useful, but he had never said he couldn't also enjoy himself in the meanwhile.
"Do we have a visual yet?" Alexis asked the Bridge, jaw certainly tight now, running through the list of possible reasons why Rene would choose such a risky venture. From a level-three containment field to massive heat signatures affecting his crew, there was plenty of danger implied to suggest that it would be best to beam Rene back aboard as well...
When the visual came up, however, not much could be made out at first, that the trees made for a difficult screen for the cameras to pierce through. There were the two heads of the humans weaving through the forest at breakneck speeds, barely a handful of metres away from a thick cloud that sparked and glinted like a crackling thunderstorm after them.
Alexis's lips parted in surprise, the rest of the bridge looking on in a similarly dumbfounded fashion, as the trees finally thinned into a clearing and the cloud erupted into plain view.
A thick swarm of bugs, wings glinting in the light, the largest of them judged to be half the size of a grown man, flew directly toward Bossuet and Cosette in an otherwise amorphous formation, roughly 30 metres across and 20 metres deep. If one were to try to compare them to any sort of Earth creature, they resembled locusts in general shape, though, while in flight, their bodies drooped and curved a little downward in the manner of a feeding mosquito. They were mostly dark and metallic in colour -- coppers, blacks, silvers, golds -- though they seemed to be made of rock more than metal itself, and scans would still be unable to penetrate through the material to produce readings of lifesigns; further inspection would find that they were, indeed, covered in the same sort of minerals that made up the core of the planet.
Yet it wasn't the strange bugs or their lack of readings as lifesigns or the general mass of them that held everyone's attention in that moment of shock -- it was the streaks of scorched earth that the cloud left behind in their wake. Every inch of foliage that the swarm seemed to pass over withered into a crisp, that Montparnasse's earlier maximum reading of 376º K (or roughly 217º F) would do its magic over the greenery that the massive cloud passed. The darkest burns seemed to follow along the trail of the largest insects, that the ground behind them specifically was striped in irregular intervals.
The staticky sound of a broken comm line stuttered, bringing everyone's attention back to focus.
"Let's-----this aga-----esgle to Transp----oom----get a beam-u---? ----etty pleas----ith suga----on top? ... Hello??"
Bahorel had finally managed to find something promising, that it wasn't quite the Calendula, but the soil was beginning to turn richer, as though that scorching heat that had affected the previous clearings had never approached in this direction somehow, and that boded well for his search.
When Rene's message came through, he raised a brow, that he would have missed the entirety of the exchange, and known nothing at all of the dangers that pursued the others.
The moistness of the air around him soothed the burning of his wounds, which boded well, that perhaps water would be more than enough to wash the pollen away. Bahorel breathed in a little more deeply through his breather again, without quite realizing that, as it was only intended to filter out for underwater breathing, was still coated fairly thickly with the pollen from the unknown organism.
Yet that thought wouldn't even cross his mind as his eyes espied the telltale yellow-orange of his beloved Calendula, that Bahorel had not seen such a beautiful sight in ever. He might have teared up somewhat when he crouched down before the precious little flower, caressed it ever so carefully with his fingertip, but no one would have known it, that he was alone.