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LTJG Arlill - A Note from "Home"

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I found the following a delightful fleshing out of everyone's favorite Bolian/Tellarite hybrid's backstory. I appreciate that it's written well--it has tantalizing elements of potential intrigue but doesn't overdo it and just the right amount of technical details that remind me this is a Star Trek sim! Kudos.


((OOC I plan to have these pop up here and there over the next 4-6 months, just to build a side story for my character, something that might become something more, or might not...)


((Crew Quarters, USS ‘Oumuamua))

Following the awards reception and subsequent bar crawl with Junior Officers a somewhat sober Toxin returned to his crew quarters on the ‘Oumuamua. No sooner had he walked in the quarters and sat on the nearest comfortable seat…

Toxin looked down at his uniform, running his finger over the new ribbon. His head began to throb looking down, as he got up to get a drink the computer interrupted.

Computer: Lieutenant Arlill, there is one message waiting for you.

Arlill: Play message.

Computer: Unable to comply, message has level 3 personal encryption.

oOPersonal encryption, who in the world would have personal encryption on message to me?Oo

Arlill: Transfer to my desk console.

Toxin made his way to the desk across the room, not before stopping at the replicator and ordering a Bolian Brighteye Refresher. It wasn’t an official drink, it was something his father had concocted and Toxin had programmed into the replicators. It was a mixture of Bolian planet matter (dirt), mango pulp, Vulcan oregano herb, and coffee. For some reason, a reason that Toxin could never figure out, it worked on any hangover.

Toxin continued sipping the less than palettable concoction as he found his seat behind the desk. He activated the console and was immediately came to face with a message he had seen before. It wasn’t in any language anyone could decipher, but it also wasn’t encrypted. Toxin had developed this language or rather secret code, when he was a young boy. The code required the use of ancient books of specific binding and publisher. 

The first sentence of the encryption would make reference to the book through literary puns and quotes and then the edition and binding based on the month and year referenced minus a predetermined set of days, the amount of days his mother and he had been apart. There was no doubt this message had come from his mother, and in his current state, was not likely to be decrypted easily. That wasn’t going to be a problem, Toxin had played around and developed tools to make decryption a bit easier. He pulled up the program and identified the quote in the first sentence, it was a quote from an ancient Earth book his mother loved, “Tale of Two Cities”. He checked the start date, 240006.11, it had been 386 days since they had last been in the same place, at Starfleet Academy on Earth.

Now that he had these key components of data, Toxin kicked off the programmed algorithm and sat back to wait for the results. It would take some time, but the computer would decrypt the message leaving him with a legible output. oO This no doubt will take a few hours Oo.

Computer: ::within seconds of beginning decryption:: Message decryption complete.

That was a very big surprise for Toxin, it didn’t make sense. Toxin double checked the bitrate and file size, the file had taken over 15 minutes to download from it’s remote source to the ‘Oumuamua’s computer, that would mean it was over 2 Peta Bytes in size, how would it have been decrypted so quickly.

Toxin read the message, “I’m ok, please keep this data safe. Show and tell no-one. Talk soon, love mom.” oOWhat was she into, what had she sent him, was she really ok…Oo So many different questions flew around his brain. But first thing was first, he had to trace the origin.

Pulling up a separate console layout, the ship’s communications operational system, he quickly and easily, bypassed the automated logging system and pulled up the recently received messages. The ship receives about 200 messages per hour. Most of the messages received are systems updates from the starbase, engineering notifications, shipbound messages to crew from families & friends, and database updates, he couldn’t find the message he had received.

Toxin switched over to the navigational sensor array, even in standby, the system would collect hundreds of gigabytes of data each hour, so he started scanning the recent input rates and found three hours prior, during their reception, the ship had received over 2 Peta Bytes of data. Toxin quickly pulled up the navigational array log. He first cleared the data received from it’s database, with the exception of the extranominal data it received every minute. He cleared the logging database of any trace of his access and deletions and overwrote the memory notes previously storying his 2 Peta Bytes of data with miscellaneous data to prevent recovery. He didn’t know what his mother was into, but she was always a good Starfleet officer, whatever it was, she needed him to be discreet.

Toxin pulled up the ships sensors log, realizing they were in starbase it was more difficult to identify directional sources of data, he aligned the sensor readings, tied in the starbases external sensor information, data that was regularly shared with starship when in dock, and reviewed around the time the data was received. He suddenly stopped and stared at the console… oOIt wasn’t possible, how could this even be.Oo

There on the screen were a set of coordinates, the source of the message. “Sector Z-6”, Romulus.

Arlill: Computer, activate program Toxin-1101-zeta and transfer received data to this pad ::placing an extra pad on the console::

Computer: Access logs deleted, data has been transferred to external pad. 

Arlill: Delete data and terminate session.

Toxin turned off the console, took his drink, and returned to the sitting area in the main space. He picked up the pad and began scrolling through the data. None of it really made sense, as of this point, but he figured, with time, it would.

Toxin trusted his mother, he trusted her to let him know if she really needed rescuing, he had no doubt that what she had sent him was important, but it would take some time to figure out what that information was.


LTJG Toxin Arlill

"Current" HELM, Operations & Communications Officer
USS 'Oumuamua NCC-81226

Writer ID.: O239910TA


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