Investigation Part I - Gathering the Evidence

Posted on Thu Aug 1st, 2019 @ 6:57pm by Lieutenant Aleksander Voroshilov

Mission: War and Peacekeeping
Location: USS Zendaya

In the chaos it was easy for the team to slip onto the Zendaya, a lot easier for people of lower ranks. It was a common and often incorrect myth in most militaries that it was the officer who was the expert and therefore the one most likely to be stopped and questioned. That’s why the only officer was an ensign, and even then she would be sequestered away in a dark hole. During the down time the team had drummed up some false identification cards that would be enough to pass a cursory glance. This was all necessary to stick with the Captain’s desire for discretion, a bit overboard perhaps but relatively bullet proof.

Tebiza nervously tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear, trying to make herself physically smaller so she could hopefully duck anyone important. Subterfuge wasn’t new to her, but doing it in broad daylight, to their ‘friends’ no less, was. It felt dirty, even if it was in an attempt to help them. Or was it, it’s not like finding the answer would help the Zendaya. Their ship would still broke and drifting aimlessly in space. The aim of this was a bit selfish, which wasn’t the line she was fed in basic.

Stepping into the room Aleksi told her to go she nervously called out her fake rank and name. Seeing that it was empty she quickly unpacked her diagnostic kit and crawled underneath the nearest panel. Plugging in the PADD, she waited for her program to run the diagnostic. It was a simple program, finding anything that would have been an obvious hack. She had a feeling that it wouldn’t be so simple, the cheerful chime only confirmed that.

Grumbling a little her fingers sailed across the PADD, trying to find some forensic footprint. She was getting more and more frustrated, finding nothing but pristine code. It took her nearly fifteen minutes to realize why she wasn’t getting anything, the code had been rebooted after the failure. Not all of it, in fact it was the untouched code, replicators and life support, which told her more. Whoever injected the virus had no intention of waiting in discomfort, likely someone who wanted to go out of their way to not be responsible for anyone’s death.

“Damned Ancient Fleet code,” Ironically, the hackers had done a better job than the engineers had at programming, explaining why the crew probably ignored any chance of a hack lest their incompetence show. Unfortunately the reboot had wiped any trace of the virus that would have forced the cooling systems to fail, exceptionally clever. At best she could say that someone had mucked with the computer, but whether it was sabotage or some intrepid young officer attempting to fix the problem wasn’t clear. In her experience good intentions could be just as dangerous as intentional attacks.

After recording her findings she disconnected her PADD and quickly packed her gear, irritated by the lack of any clear answers. She hoped the boys would come up with something better.

---------

There was a lesson a mentor had taught a much younger R’Mular about espionage skillcraft, something he never thought he’d end up doing, if you have a PADD and move with a purpose no one questions why you’re there. The more colloquial saying would be faking it until you make it. His experience told him that a scowl and mumbling gets you avoided, which got you the same result in the end. The yellow uniform helped with the illusion.

The engineering team had already begun dismantling the relay which had been made horrendously difficult do to the extent of the damage. The Caitian was able to pick up the scent of burnt wiring. Moving to one of the larger plates he lifted it, a larger hole with a scotch ring around it. It seems normal enough, except an off shape. He wasn’t sure if it was natural or not, but it seemed wrong.

"Crewman,” The words escaped him before he could think. Thanking the gods he was the NCO. Coughing he waved the young man over, flipping out his tricorder, “I need to get some scans of this. Hold it up.”

“Umm...we already took scans Petty Officer,” The man raised his eyebrow before going back to his work trying to cut through the mess of wire the incident had caused. Already working overtime, all he wanted to do was grab a hot meal and crawl back into his bunk and the sooner he could tear apart the bird nest the sooner he could clock out.

“That wasn’t a question,” R’Mular pointed to the plate of steel with a scowl. The crewman stood up with a groan, moving to the plate and just as the Petty Officer ordered him to, he held the plate up. The Caitian shook his head, “I should speak with your supervisor about this insubordination.”

R’Mular started scanning the piece, hoping to find anything out of the ordinary. Explosive residue, something. Predictably the tricorder gave him nothing of substance, detecting little more than a minute increase in oxide which was typical of older vessels. Still, there was that bit too round to be happenstance. Standing up he brushed off his uniform, more questions than answers in his mind. At least he had something to go off of, perhaps his resident terrorist could make sense of it.

-----

It had been easy enough to disappear into the Jefferies Tube, Aleksi able to blend into a crowd if needed. He’d be lying if he said that he liked being in confined spaces, but he was used to it at this point. It was moments like these he would have been happy out in the field, investigating a wrecked vessel or simply accompanying a long range patrol. Instead he was crawling through tunnels like a rat in an attempt to figure out what, if any, evidence he’d find.

The isolation gave him time to think about the current situation. The most obvious concern would be lack of evidence beyond circumstantial. Everyone, including himself, knew Vicente was behind whatever knocked the Zendaya out so whatever evidence they did find would be forced to fit in that narrative, no matter how tenuous the connection. As much as the sabotage theory made sense it wasn’t any reason to deny the possibility of an accident, at least until proof was found. Simply because you drew a Royal Flush doesn’t mean cheating was involved, but it would have certainly helped.

The beam of light ahead of him bounced as he made his way up the ladder, remembering why he hated the apartment building he’d grown up in many years before. The khrushchyovka was cramped and dank, no beauty or soul, just cold efficiency. The stairwells were often occupied by the drunks or other criminal elements, making the use of exterior ladders the preferred method of entry and exit for most. That element of danger also led to lackluster maintenance, something he found most of his fellow Federation took for granted.

Slipping into the next level of tubes he once more started to crawl, his mind moving to the next logical step of what if they found anything concrete. The preferred solution to most, satisfying the desire for answers and giving an excuse to exercise some sort of revenge, it was actually something Aleksi was hoping not to find. The Senior Staff were all good, solid officers, shining examples of their professions and would be likely to dutifully report anything that was suspect and hold the suspects for questioning. Everything done morally correct and just as the manual would say.

Aleksi hadn’t been known for his morals, usually finding little use for them in the big scheme of things. At best they slow you down, at worst you’re dead and neither of those appealed to him. While it was usually best if moral met practical, he was of the belief it wouldn’t happen in this case. He could argue the point of why a formal investigation would be bad but the chances of convincing them would be hard, few of them having to deal with insurgency and fewer still ever having broken bread with them. It would also make him appear sympathetic to the TLF, which would only harm his already tenuous reputation.

Even if he did manage to convince them then what? The atmosphere would be the same except instead of knowing who dropped the Zendaya they would know and cause the tense relationship would go hostile. And he’d still appear sympathetic, so there was that. As much as he didn’t relish the idea, he’d have to find some way to obscure the truth for the sake of the crew. This was of course assuming they found anything concrete, assuming the group was as skilled as he gave them credit for they’d have very little to go on and with no lives lost Starfleet HQ would be likely to rubberstamp the Zendaya’s assessment of an anomalous accident.

Peering down another ladder chute, the one that he’d have to climb in order to get to Vicente’s quarters, he noticed a familiar object just inside an open vent. Carefully making his way down a sense of dread started to take hold. With a gloved hand he picked up the object, lifting it up as if he was trying to convince himself it wasn’t there. Now level with his eyes he could see the detail, he knew what it was and it could only mean one thing, “Fuck.”