Lt Vylaa zh'Tisav: Flip The Script

[Tahna Meru]

@Vylaa (along with Gnaxac and Doz, and Stoyer's fancy flying) have had me cackling through the Borg crisis. 

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((Main Engineering, Deck 16))

The ship itself seemed to be screaming in pain.  Or maybe it was being ripped apart.  Or both.  The sound invaded Vylaa’s skull from ears and antennae tips, causing pain to radiate from the base of her stalks inward through her sinuses, bringing tears to her cobalt eyes.  She reached for the core railing to keep herself steady.

Gnaxac: What w-w-w-was that?!

Finch: It sounded like hull stress to me. Maybe even a dysfunction with our shields, or a combination of the two. I don’t think it was the power grid…but let me quickly look.

zh’Tisav: Powers still up, can’t be that.

Her antennae lashed about, out of control as Vylaa’s confused brain tried to make sense of it all.  They had found some relief from the Borg onslaught, and then, just as quickly, it had all turned upside down.

Finch: Well, this isn’t good. The system’s are not responding at all, which is concerning, because we should still have power running through here, even if it is a small amount.

Gnaxac: Where’s the p-p-power?

Finch:…I think we might be inside a tractor beam.

A tiny squeak issued from inside the dilithium chamber, reminiscent of the time Vyla’s thavan had sat on her pet korelath.

zh’Tisav: We haven’t been boarded yet, so the shields are still up.  For how long…

Gnaxac: If you c-c-can p-p-pass me some fresh c-c-crystals, we c-c-can g-g-get this up and running for a b-b-boost.


Vylaa regretfully let go of the railing and stepped carefully to the pool table.  She felt unsteady on her feet thanks to the sonic onslaught.  Her antennae were still doing their own thing, as if her animal hindbrain were seeking out an unknown threat.  She knelt slowly and pulled a panel from the base of the main display.

zh’Tisav: I’ll try doing a hard reset.  It should clear the system and maybe restore some function.  If we can at least get some readouts we’ll know where we need to send people.

Every second that passed she expected the familiar voice of the computer to calmly announce the Borg had boarded.  Every second that passed without it seemed a blessing.

Finch: You do that, ::she said, accent thick and voice loud,:: and I’ll get Gnaxac what he needs.

She worked quickly, arm up to her shoulder in the guts of the data network, feeling blindly for the reset relays.  Vylaa really wished design engineers actually worked on the ships they created, maybe then they’d get some usable designs…

zh’Tisav: ::Clambering to her feet.:: Okay, let’s see what we have.

It wasn’t much.  Some raw data trickled in, un-formatted and at random intervals.  Still, it was more than they had just had.

zh’Tisav: Um…  Not sure…  This could be a directed interference wave.

She tapped at a snippet on the mostly dark screen.

Gnaxac: Can we b-b-block it? Send out a reverse p-p-pulse?

The little Ferengi’s stammer seemed to double s it echoed within the chamber.

Finch: Yes, Mister Gnaxac! Send them a ruddy taste of their own medicine.

It was a sound idea.  The inverse of a signal canceled it out.  One plus minus one equaled zero, simple math.

zh’Tisav: I can send their signal back to them, shifted 180 degrees out of phase.  It should neutralize the interferance.

Gnaxac: Or mayb-b-be if I g-g-get this up and running we c-c-can break out of it?

Finch: The old break and bolt manoeuvre! Knock them out for a minute or two then scarper like it's no tomorrow. But knowing—

Vylaa was already working on an inverted signal.  With the system on the fritz, she’d have to come up with a different solution.  Maybe a tricorder plugged directly into the ODN trunk…

She didn’t get the chance to start.  The ship lurched, throwing most of the engineers to the deck.  Vylaa herself was thrown back and slid across the deck.  She tried to get up, but was thrown again as the ship heaved again, coming up against the core riling.

zh’Tisav: ::Holding her side.:: I take back what I said earlier.  We can stop with the dodge and weave.

Finch: Ahhk! ::Wheezing and dangling:: Flipping heck!

Vylaa wished she could come up with a reply, but was too busy just hanging on during Mr. Stoyer’s Wild Ride.

Gnaxac: Response

Finch: Watch out for that pipe!

zh’Tisav: Well, at least we’re not stuck anymore...

Gnaxac: Response

Finch: Quick, Vylaa, throw us a...aaah!

Vylaa had gotten back to her feet, and was holding on tightly to the railing.  The tipping of the deck felt different this time, less erratic.  Maybe the inertial dampeners were catching up, or maybe their helmsman wasn’t making such tight turns, or maybe the Andorian was just getting used to it, but she was finding it easier to orientate herself.

zh’Tisav: I think we’re flattening out.  How are you in there?

She had realized that however bad it had been for the rest of them, it must have been for more difficult inside the chamber.

Gnaxac: Response

zh’Tisav: You okay, Doz?

Finch: response

zh’Tisav: Look at the consoles!

She rushed back to the pool table.  The display was partially back, although still flickering in places.  Around the room, more screens were slowly returning to life.  Whatever the Bridge had done, it had interrupted the Borg,

Finch/Gnaxac: response

Vylaa’s fingers were dancing across whichever screens were working.

zh’Tisv: I’m setting up a program that inverts the signal and sends it back at them through our own ODN system.  Lets see how they like a little sour zhiassa.

Finch/Gnaxac: response

As screens started to blink less, the zhen moved back to the more pressing matter.

zh’Tisv: How much more on the chamber do you think?  We get that up and we can just, you know, leave.

Finch/Gnaxac: response

 

Lt Vylaa zh'Tisav

Chief of Engineering

USS Gorkon

C238601TB0