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id="docs-internal-guid-5b307967-7fff-943d-f6f0-35ee5f6edcb9"><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Mission: Death in the Shadows</span></p><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Day: 4</span></p><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Stardate: 2446.02.04</span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">(USS Illuminar - Deck 10 - Main Shuttle Bay - Pilot Ensign (sg) Vic ‘Raid’ Montero and Ensign(jg) Bebe “Gunsmoke” Sheridan - 1230) </span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">The Lief Erickson had been pushed to the main shuttle bay, to make it easier to access the systems. Engineering had been looking over the exterior of the shuttle, access ports were taken off and scans of all critical systems were being performed. The Lief was going to be out of commission till they convinced themselves everything was fine, and even then, it would be the cursed shuttle. Montero would have to take it out and prove them wrong when the time came. </span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">The level 1 diagnostic had started it’s second automated pass. Montero had shooed the engineers out of the cockpit so he could think. Pilots liked things a certain way, call it superstitious, call it what you want, but a good pilot could tell when something wasn’t right, by some sixth sense. </span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Sitting in the pilot's chair, his fingers lightly traced over the controls. Time to start pulling pieces apart, but where to start? </span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Now why would an assassin run to the shuttle craft? Gunsmoke, see if you can find that grumpy Klingon and see what he knows about what they found?” Vic called to Bebe.</span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Give me the hard job, or are you afraid of him,” Gunsmoke teased. </span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“I think he likes you, at least better than me.” </span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Gunsmoke stepped out of the shuttle to find Galk while Vic pulled out the PADD with the schematics of the shuttle. </span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">He started at the control panel, looking at the connection modules between the different systems. What would attract their villain to the shuttle. To escape? How? </span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Lost in thought, he jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, “Here Raid,” Bebe said, handing him a cup of coffee. “Talked to Mr. Galk, he’s a pretty sweet fellow when you get to know him. He said that when they were waiting to apprehend the suspect, he started to use the transporter, even though we were at warp with the shields up.”</span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Curiouser and curiouser.” Vic said as he sipped the hot elixir. “Well now we have a starting point.” </span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">(USS Illuminar - Deck 10 - Main Shuttle Bay - Pilot Ensign (sg) Vic ‘Raid’ Montero and Ensign(jg) Bebe “Gunsmoke” Sheridan - 1330)</span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">The two pilots had poured over the schematics of the shuttle. The transporter controls are hooked into the auxiliary computer system, which controls the small pattern buffer. The transporter could hold two people at a time, three in an emergency, but due to size limitations, the pattern buffer didn’t have the storage or memory of a ship's transport buffer. To extend that power, it turned out there were some connections to the main computer, routed through the navigational systems. Probably to help connect the scanners and targeting systems. Why have two sets when there was a nice one already available. It made sense. “I’ve never noticed that before Bebe,” Vic said. </span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Yea, well they pay us to fly ‘em, not fix ‘em.” </span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“And yet, if we crash, odds are we better do the fixing. Besides, this is better than being on stand down,” he replied. </span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Hey, Gunsmoke, who do you know on the crew who has more than a passing knowledge of transporters? Might be good to get a semi-expert up here to help us out before we go digging away at the guts of this thing.”</span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Why do you think I know someone?” Gunsmoke asked. </span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Come on, you’re the friendly side of our team. People respond to you better than they respond to a twice demoted, old ensign with anger management issues. Notice how I didn’t get invited to any of the events when the diplomats are on the ship? Even how my last go round at the Prancing Pony crashed and burned, and then someone messed with my drink. Nah, I’m best in my flight lane, doing what I do and letting you do the politics.”</span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Gunsmoke smiled. That had to be the most Vic had said about things in a long while, especially since Mars and the visit with Commander “Viper” Metcalf. She remembered how those two pilots, Badger and Merlin were in awe of him when they realized that he was the one who took out Jester, a film still shown today for training. </span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Well, I do know a guy. Frank Martin is his name. I’ll give him a call for you.”</span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Aces, Gunsmoke. Aces,” Vic replied. “Going to mosey around the outside for a bit, see what the engineering boys had found.”</span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">While Vic headed out of the shuttle with his coffee, Bebe tapped her comm badge. </span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Chief Frank Martin please come to the shuttlebay. Chief Martin to the shuttlebay.” she called. </span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">=^=You need something Bebe?=^= There was a little sound of exasperation on that question.</span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Yea, got a little problem that is right up your alleyway and could use a consult if you have the time to break away,” she replied.</span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">=^= Really? Right up my alley? Last time you said that there happened to be a pair of Orion women involved. I am assuming that these are different circumstances.=^=</span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“I didn’t hear you complaining too much there Chief. More on your technical expertise, you know the transporters, like you used to remove some clothing the time or three ago.”</span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">There was a laugh at the other end of the communication. =^= I can transport anything anywhere. No questions asked. My standard fee will be applied.=^=</span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Cash, Latinum or Trade. Done. I’m in the main shuttlebay, by the Lief Erickson. I’ll explain what I know when you're done here.”</span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">=^=I’m on my way.=^=</span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">It took Frank about five minutes to dig his way out of the system he’d been immersed in and get down to the main shuttlebay. If he was getting a call from Bebe it should be something interesting. Pilots are not necessarily the best engineers, but they can work on their ships to keep them flying pretty well with general maintenance. However the mention that it was a transporter issue… well. After all, that was his main gig. </span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">It was pretty easy to spot Bebe, or “Gunsmoke’ as his call sign went. To be honest, he wasn’t too keen on the call signs, but each their own, and Bebe was a great guy to hang out with, as pilots go. He was standing in front of a shuttle that had been fairly torn down. He was glad he wasn’t on vehicle maintenance right now… or was he? </span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Wow Bebe!” he exclaimed, “that’s quite a… almost a ship you have there. What’s going on?”</span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Well, funny you should ask there Frank. Long story, so it seems You heard the Captain got stabbed this morning right? Well it seems said assassin made his way down here after the Commander took the ship to warp away from the starbase. According to the tall Klingon security guard, they tracked him down to the shuttle, not sure how long he was here, but when they moved in to apprehend him, he had started the transporter cycle.”</span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“That begs the question what was he doing in the shuttle transporter, with no safe place to transport, and the shields up anyway. What else did he do to the shuttle. As you can see, the engineers are having a field day outside looking to see what he might have done. But Raid and I have been trying to see what he might have done inside, and that requires more … finesse, hence my call to you.”</span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Before Frank could say anything, he saw another pilot over by a nacelle, coffee cup in his hand yelling the crewman there, “No, no, it goes the other way. Check the specifications. It’s my neck if you’ve reversed the polarity or crossed the streams, so do it right.”</span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Frank shook his head, “Cross the streams. Everyone knows you never cross the streams. There should be a video showing what happens when you cross the streams. Cats and dogs living together.”</span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Then he refocused on what he’d been told. “Well you called the right guy. Let’s have a look.”</span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">They went into the shuttle and straight to the transporter controls. He tapped on the control panel and watched as it came to life. Then he looked at the reading. “Interesting,” was all he said. </span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Now he was completely ignoring Bebe. He sat on the floor and opened the access panel and fingered the isolines chips. “Very interesting,” he said cryptically then pulled out one of the chips. “Well this doesn’t belong here.”</span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Then he began to examine the chip. Pulling out his tricorder he began to scan the chip with some tsk sounds and grunts. Finally he hopped back to his feet.</span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Well I know where he was going,” Frank said, “at least via the transporter.”</span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“OK, where?” </span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“He was going nowhere.” Frank saw the strange look on Bebe’s face. “He’d rigged the transporter to hold his pattern in the buffer. It seems that he was committed to his plan as he rigged the buffer to continuously draw energy to reduce pattern degradation. But what I don’t understand is,,,”. He paused thinking. </span></p><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;"> </span></p><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Wait, what? How. I thought the pattern buffer on a shuttle was pretty minimal,” Bebe replied. </span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">He looked at the readings on the chip and his eyes widened. “Nooooo!” he said more to himself than to his friend. “No, no, no. If he did that then…”</span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Bebe raised an eyebrow. </span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Look,” Frank turned the tricorder so Bebe could look, “once activated there is a subroutine linked to the shuttle’s sensor array. Under certain conditions the transporter would activate and rematerialize Sanchez… or should I say not rematerialize him, It is set to send him in wide dispersal out into space. This escape was a death trap, unless someone came in to counter the programing. If it all went automatically Mr. Sanchez would have… been no more.”</span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">While the two were talking about the transporter, Vic wandered back into the shuttle. “Those guys out there are making such a damned mess. What did you find?” Vic listened as the two discussed what they found. </span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“So, you’re saying that the transporter is linked to the shuttle's scanners?” </span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“I am,” Frank said. sounding impressed. “It’s quite a piece of engineering. Something beyond what I believe is capable of being produced here on the Illuminar by anyone other than a well prepared engineer. Whoever produced this had a plan.” </span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Vic knelt down, “If they patched it in, they’d have to replace the controls on the sensors. Here, hand me that spanner,” he said.</span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Vic loosened the control cover, “Yea, here. Look at this,” he said pointing to some isolinear chips as he got up. “What do you make of those?”</span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Frank reached in and felt around inside the compartment. There were some connectors that he didn’t recognize. Now these weren’t attached to the transporters, but they did seem to be attached to the sensor array. </span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“That’s really strange,” Frank said, continuing in his self narrative, and not really explaining or clarifying to anyone around him. Then he looked at the faces of the others.</span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Well,” finally he said to Vic and Bebe, “I don’t know what it does, but my instincts tell me it isn’t something good. Whatever it is, it’s connected to the propulsion system and the sensor array. I just can’t be sure what it does. What was this mess you were talking about?” </span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">“The engineers taking the shuttle apart from the outside. Leaving things for people to trip over. Not checking alignments of critical components. It’s going to take a month of Sundays to get this back in flying shape,” Montero grumbled. “It's FODDed all to hell.” </span></p><br><p
dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Vic sat down in the pilots seat, lost in thought.
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style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;background-color:transparent;font-weight:400;font-style:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">(Reply none)
(Posted by Al and Tim)
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