PNPC Ensign Ferentis: The Beginning (Blackwell)

[+ Rune Jolara]

((Ferentis' Quarters))

::The Pahkwa-thanh slumbered.::

::His enormous face rested on the reinforced floor of his quarters, a bit of drool escaping the clutches of his massively powerful jaws. Flesh on his midriff heaved in a deliberate, unrushed rhythm; his breathing, at least for the time being, could be as lackadaisical an affair as he liked. Tiny arms gave the occasional gentle flick at invisible phantoms, seen only in the imagination of one drowsy dinosaur.::

::Ferentis was wiped.::

::All that work keeping the holodeck operational had certainly drained his faculties, both mental and physical. Running from one irritation to another, while maintaining the decorum pounded into him by both the demands of cultural upbringing and the procedural rigidity of Starfleet had left him utterly drained. But, naturally, the final nail in the coffin was the realization that the thought keeping him going was not what he expected, and was thoroughly underwhelming in its own right. That infernal letter.::

::So disappointed was he that he’d simply given up for the day. Grunting with the effort, he’d managed to find a suitably warm spot underneath the heating lamp, and in moments, had succumbed to the inky pool of unconsciousness.::

::Across, the room however, things were not nearly as stagnant.::

::Ferentis’ efforts, while unsuccessful in revealing the contents of the letter, had triggered something, though, naturally,  he had no way of knowing it. His focus had been so undivided, so intent, that when the icon in the corner had finally stopped its infernal flashing, he hadn’t noticed. Scouring the field of dots, he’d likewise utterly failed to take heed when the icon resumed its blinking pattern- this time, in a crimson hue in lieu of the pleasing forest green that had pestered him beforehand. Were Ferentis watching, he would have been extremely puzzled as to why that particular icon was activated- generally, it was reserved for instances in which a message was being transmitted- something Ferentis hadn’t done, nor had had reason to do, in ages. Nevertheless, from his console, and completely without his knowledge, a signal had been released. With precision, it wormed its way into the chat logs, marking itself as personal, waiting for its expulsion into the fluidic fabric of subspace via the Blackwell’s communication array. To any scan or observant eye on the bridge, it would have appeared like any other private communique between a crewmember and family back home. Indeed, it was far more than that.

Were this signal, this program, tasked with spying on the chat logs going in and out of the Blackwell, it could have. It possessed the capability to do so, and now that it had infiltrated the machinery, the ease with which the information could be extracted might be considered laughable. However, this electronic worm had no such intentions; for all intents and purposes, it was quite benign. It glanced around at the miasma of impulses and codes, and patiently waited its turn to leave, causing no trouble at all. A fortunate fact for the crew of the Blackwell- the hospital ship had seen more than its share of robot infiltration and attacks via malignant code.::

::The array gathered the information to transmit, and expelled it. The program found itself dashing through subspace, bounding along the fourth plane, circumventing gullies and sandbars in the pseudo-energy landscape. However, its destination was not the same as the rest of the letters and status updates and other starship minutiae. It diverged after several light years, aiming itself toward its own pre-programmed location. Hours past like the stars as the signal zipped through space.::

::As Ferentis snored soundly, the signal finally reached its destination. With unceremonious haste, the tiny satellite communication receiver it had smacked into absorbed it.  It didn’t take long for the worm to rummage its way into the satellite’s systems, much as it had on the Blackwell. If it could think or speak, its thoughts and words would have been most innocent. “Pardon me- let me just slide into your outgoing traffic. Not here to cause trouble- sorry about the inconvenience. No need to notice me, just let me through. Thanks.”::

::Soon, it had again moseyed on through the slog of incoming and outgoing messages, and had begun the next leg of its epic voyage…::

PNPC Ensign Ferentis
Engineer
USS Blackwell
NCC 58999

=======as simmed by=======

Lieutenant Commander Randal Shayne
Helmsman/Ops Officer/Second Officer
USS Blackwell
NCC 58999
G239202RS0