Denise Ellis stormed down the corridor, her blue labcoat flowing behind her, her steps hurried and solid against the carpeted deck. A torrent of emotions ran through her, mostly a mixture of anger and fear. Someone had taken the storage chips out of the enviroment suit helmets, each containing a fair amount of data about their guest and his craft. She thought she knew who it might be; there was going to be hell to pay.
She had gone straight to the Bridge looking for Nickatelli, only to be told by Wells that Nickatelli was being kicked off the ship. She briefly considered telling Wells her problem, but knew that he would likely take over and send her to her quarters or back to the hangar; and She wanted to confront Nickatelli herself. After all the time they'd been working together, and that bastard started to pull this.
She frowned in the corridor. Why would he take the data? There were many reasons she could figure. None of them were good news. She reached Nickatellis' quarters, found the hatch was unsealed, took a breath, and entered. Nickatelli was standing next to his bed, closing up a large pack.
She glared at him, and spoke.
"Give me back the chips. Now."
[color=#FFFF00]Main Hangar
"Hmmm." Gwen Hart reached the table as Doyle finished speaking. She took another sip from the coffee cup. Maybe she'd take a tour of the engine room when she had time. With all this vibration, something must be out of calibration. Then she remembered the engines were offline, and they were holding position in space. Gwen blinked, brought her coffee cup to eye level, and gazed at it uncomfortably. Maybe it's time to cut back a little She was brought back to her usual casual attentiveness when Donovan spoke to Doyle;
"You mean to say you've been ill?"
The door at the far end of the hangar opened, and Angela Wight entered, making her way towards the group.
Doyle glanced at the woman who'd just entered. It wasn't somebody wearing body armor, and they weren't packing a gun, which meant it was no factor. Then he remembered who the woman was and suppressed a little grin.
Wonder if she's still scared or something?
He looked at Donovan and shrugged.
"Could say that, I guess. Something goes on when I leave this ship, nasty stuff. I'm sure you could probably detect something with all that fancy gear you've got around here."
Doyle looked over at Angela and nodded. "Like your hazard suits. I'll bet they've got detectors or something."
"Yes, you've brought back the data from the suits? I think it's time we saw it for ourselves."
Angela visibly flushed, her eyes glancing quickly about the hangar, as if searching for an excuse to change the subject. Finding none, she was forced to reply;
"Professor Ross, I went back to my quarters, to get the data like you asked, but when I got there.....I, uh, couldn't find it."
Ross frowned. "I see." She went on; "Where do you suppose it is?"
Angela replied; " I, I don't know. I went to Ms. Ellis, bu...but her data chip was missing too."
That sentence got attention.
The other scientists traded glances at each other as Ross leaned back abit, then rose from the chair. She walked over to Angela and looked at her carefully, without speaking.
The steady gaze unnerved Angela and she began to speak a little faster than before. "I don't know where they are but I'll go back up and keep looking, maybe I.."
Ross cut her off. "You will do nothing of the sort. " She turned to Doctor Owens, standing near the table. "Doctor, please go and locate Mrs. Ellis, and have her come back down here; and Mr. Keller, if you would kindly assist the Doctor. Keller and Owens nodded and headed out of the hangar. "Doctor Graham, please go and inform Captain Wells that we have equipment that is missing." Graham twitched slightly, wishing the more junior staff would be tasked with such a low level errand. He nodded and followed after the others.
Ross returned to Angela. "As for you; later we are going to have a talk regarding proper data handling procedures. We are in such a field were an event may be observed once and then never again. Every bit of data is precious to us and must be preserved." She continued, even when Angela had gotten the point;
"I will not tolorate substandard work on this project. I cannot imagine how any work at all has been done on this vessel , but it will cease to be done in such a slipshod manner. No university, mostly certainly not a research university, will accept a student who can't follow simple rules you apparently didn't learn in primary school. You will do things properly from now on, or I shall see that you not receive sponsorship from any member of the Institute. Which means you will never have a career in academia."
"Y...yes, Professor." Angel nodded , almost on the verge of tears. She wanted to run away, to hide. But there was nowhere she could go. Her shoulders were hunched slightly, and her eyes wandered along the deck, avoiding the stern eyes in front of her.
"Now. Go and help Doctor Hart with the scanning equipment. We are going to proceed with duplicating the original scans if we are able. Prepare the data storage, so we have a proper record of the scan."
Ross addressed Donovan; "With me please, Doctor." Addressing Hart and Wight, she added; "I am off to report to Professor Morris before the ships seperate. I shall be back in a short while. Prepare the equipment so we can proceed." She nodded at Doyle; "Lieutenant." Ross and Donovan left toward the exit hatch.
"Yes Prof'essor." Angela answered. Her voice cracked halfway through the reply. She realized Doctor Hart and Doyle had been watching the exchange, and she wiped her eyes. "Um. Doctor Hart, I'll get the power cells loaded into the scanners. Okay?" She wiped her eyes again.
"Sure, Angela, thats fine. Lets get the carts pointed along here." Hart said, indicating parts of the deck plate. She seemed about to say something else, but frowned instead.
Hart glanced about the confines of the hangar, standing next to Doyle as Angela went to work on rolling the carts into place, adding a Institute spec power cell into each. Hart spoke, watching Angela as she moved about. "Ahhh. A little more space without all the crowd. Maybe we can get some work done before they get back and slow us down." She glanced at Angela again and frowned. She picked a case from the deck, set it on the table, and proceeded to open it and remove the instruments inside.
[color=#FFFF00]Pryce.Research.N101
Cabin 6, Deck Two
[font=Arial]"I beg your pardon?" Nickatelli said, his eyebrows raised quizzically.
Denise placed her hands on her hips and spoke; "The chips, from the suits, where are they?" Her accusatory glare could be mistaken for nothing else, and it was clear she believed he had stolen the chips.
"What do you mean? They're in the suits." He frowned.
Denise couldn't believe his innocent face. To lie so easily. "Someone...went into Angelas' quarters, and into my quarters, and took the chips from the enviroment suits."
"Really now? " He tilited his head to one side, before adding; "Well, it wasn't me." He blinked. Suddenly, he turned and strode to the far wall of his quarters, which wasn't more than a couple meters, and opened the small closet. Denise felt a slight chill as his hand reached into the closet, and withdrew .....
The helmet from his enviroment suit.
He turned it around, so that Denise could see the chip slot was empty on his helmet as well.
She narrowed her eyes. "Of course you'd take the chip from your own helmet."
"I didn't." He replied. "I didn't take the stupid chips alright?" He dropped the helmet on his bunk, and picked up the bag containing his belongings. He stared at her for a moment."I hope you're happy. Nathan kicked me off the ship because of you." He wore a sour look, one not unlike Denise had.
"Nathan kicked you off because you tried to kill my subject. Why, Elias?"
Nickatelli replied; "Later, you'll wish I had." He made to brush past Denise, when she grabbed his arm. "What?" She asked, "What the hell does that mean?"
He pulled his arm back and continued; "I need to go, or I'm going to miss my ride."
She blocked his path, and said; "Then miss it. What did you just say?"
Nickatelli tried to walk around her, and Denise moved to stand in front of him. He pushed her, at the shoulder; not particularly hard, but her heel caught in the soft carpet of the deck and she tripped. She fell backwards into the bulkhead, her shoulders taking most of the fall, but her head hitting the bulkhead with an audible "thump". Dazed, she sat against the bulkhead, and looked up Nickatelli.
"Look, I'm sorry about that. I have to go." He opened the hatch and was gone.
Gwen Hart turned to Doyle and snapped her fingers; "The brain probe! I knew I forgot something! I'll have to go up and....." At Doyles reaction, she eased her hand down and smiled. "I'm only teasing James."
She slid the case on the table closer to the edge, and turned it so Doyle could have a better view. She spoke; "They'll probably ask you to submit to some medical prodding, but that's gonna be abit. All these people with letters after our names, and not one has "M.D." She took on a sheepish expression; "Not even yours' truly. I guess Donovans' pretty close. He messes with the biochemistry angle. So he might be able to help us figure you out, or possibly grow a hand out of your forehead." She grinned and shook her head as She indicated the case setting on the table. "This stuff is mostly enviromental sensors. We're gonna use it to record the temperature swings that seem to come with your presence here." She glanced at Doyle , eyeing him and then the fighter, before adding; "Which is just damn weird."
She pointed to one of the carts that Angela was rolling closer to one side of the fighter. "Then we have a little assortment of overpriced junk that is gonna help figure things out a little better. Denise was talking about particles going wonky, and well..." She tilted her head, "Particles going wonky is kind of a big deal. That one is for the fast mover kind of stuff, like Tachyons, Neutrinos, and so on, and that one..." She pointed to the cart next to it, "Is for the slower parties like Bradyons."
She stepped a little closer to the fighter, and continued; "So basically, for starters we're going to run souped up versions of the same scans Denise and the others did, only with better scanners, which in this case will get recorded properly, and not......(She frowned)...misplaced."
Angela Wight, had been working quietly while listening to some of Harts' commentary, stopped and looked up at Hart. She had a pained expression on her face, and she spoke; "I didn't lose them! And I definitely didn't lose the one in Denises' suit. She thinks Elias took them." She still looked a little shook up.
"Nickatelli?" Gwen raised an eyebrow. "I've worked with him a couple of times. Seemed pretty level-headed to me. Spun a little tight maybe." She glanced back at Doyle. "Of course, it's those extra responsible types you gotta watch out for....everythings fine then all kablooey. I did hear he got out of control earlier hmm?"
Angela nodded. "Yeah." She cast a knowing look at Doyle. "I wish he'd never come down here. I'd just seen some ....things....with the sensor pack, when that happened."
Hart turned back to Angela; "Things?"
Angela looked between Hart and Doyle, apparently considering if she should continue. "Well...Lieutenant..I saw that you started looking...well, kinda sick after awhile...and when you got back to the ship, to your ship, it looked like.." She was interrupted by an overhead speaker;
**"All hands, we will initiate seperation from the N102 in twenty minutes, that's two zero minutes. If you can hear my voice, and are supposed to be hearing my voice, good job, keep doing that. If you should be hearing the voice of the fella that captains that expensive overweight bucket to our port side, now's the time to start scooting over there. If you are supposed to be hearing my voice, but can't, now's the time to git back over here. Bridge out."**
Doyle impulsively looked up at the ceiling when the speaker went on. Not as if he could magically see the orator but it was a force of habit on space carriers; drop your crap and listen, banging stuff around just makes it harder for people.
"Interesting way of putting it..." he said to himself.
Glancing back at Hart, he continued, saying, "Nothing's up, right? Basic procedure kind of thing? No storm troopers scampering through the hatch with all guns blazing, no instantaneous decompression?"
He stopped for a second and stared at the wall.
"Er, sorry," he muttered, "Just a little too used to that kind of thing I guess."
Hart frowned. "Gosh. I'm sorry to hear that. No, no raid, just mostly labcoats like me, coming on, and going off"
She absently fiddled with one of the sensor packs, and added; "That's the N102 outside, the ship that met you out in California. I was down in the breakroom playing hologames with the engineers, or I might have come up to the bridge and said hi, If someone had mentioned what was going on."
She set the pack back down in the case and continued; "So Doctor Cook decided to drop us off here, since the N102 really ain't suited to landing a fighter like this." She glanced at the bulkhead wistfully."What it is suited for, is pure, unfiltered science. Decks full of labs and equipment, most of which is too big to cart over here, and some pretty sharp people to boot."
"Anyway, the '102 mostly hangs around Liberty space, and most of our little stuff, like this one, docks with it for resupply, swapping staff, that kinda thing. Some of the supplies we need are kind of specialised, so better to have just the one big ship running them down, buying in bulk, rather than all the little ones fending for themselves."
Angela, who had been considering Doyles' comments, said; "We don't nomally worry about invasions this far into Liberty. There's lots of pirates though, but most of the time they just want credits."
Gwen smiled again. "Lucky for them. I heard that story about Captain Wells."
Angela answered. "That was true. I was here when it happened." She frowned. "It's warmer in here." She looked around. "Isn't it?" She looked towards the table. "There's the sensor packs, we just need..." She stepped over to the pile of cases on the other side of the table, and began reading their sides for the contents.
Denise Ellis struggled to her feet, and put her hand to the back of her head. She already had a headache, in addition to the pain from the impact. Damnit
She walked out of the cabin, already a minute behind Nickatelli. She looked down each side of the corridor. Empty. She headed off in the direction of the airlock.
[color=#FFFF00]Deck Two, Aft section, Port.
Keller frowned. Old people Doctor Marcus Owens had broken his knee in his late thirties, and even with suitable medical treatment, after all this time, he still walked with a slight limp. He rarely walked more than this in a day, and he had slowed down. It was driving Keller crazy.
**"Mr. Keller."** It was Captain Wells voice, crystal clear through Kellers' new comm. Keller replied; "Yes sir?"
**"I need you at airlock A. Right now."**
"Copy that sir, on my way." He turned to Owens. "I'm needed by the Captain sir. Do you think you can find Ms. Ellis' quarters from here? Straight down this corridor, turn onto the corridor marked "C", then keep heading up until you reach Cabin 12."
" I understand, young man. Go on with whatever it is you need to do."
"Very good sir." Keller stepped off at a brisk pace. Finally free He thought. Maybe the Captain needed him for something interesting.
By the time he took his first step that feeling socked him in the gut. Memories of lunches being launched at the floor, the world tumbling around unnaturally, found their way through to his conscious mind.
Suppressing a wince, the ex-Lieutenant moved over towards Angela's equipment. "Warmer how?" he groaned.
Marcus Owens was about halfway down the corridor when one of the ships' crewmen rounded the corner ahead of him, walking quickly in Owens' direction. As the man approached, Owens recognized him as the man from the conference room earlier. Nicka...telli was it? Owens thought to himself. As the man drew closer, Owens spoke; "Pardon me young man, have you seen Ms. Ell..."
"Can't talk now Doctor." Nickatelli interrupted. He passed Owens in the hall, not breaking his stride.
How rude. Young men these days, no respect, no common courtesy. Owens continued down the hall.
[color=#FFFF00]The Hangar
As Hart wandered back to the far table for more coffee, Angela Wight found the case she was looking for. "Here we go." As she shifted the case from out of the stack, she glanced at Doyle as he left the fighter and she cringed visibly. At his inquiry she replied; "It's been getting warmer in here ever since you've been in contact with your ship. The enviromental controls had been fighting to keep the hangar temp ever since you got out of your ship earlier, and it wasn't enough. We all noticed how cold it was. Except you, for some reason. The last time you left it, your ship, and as a result, the hangar we're in, started getting colder. Which means we might see that again."
On her knees, she slid the case in front of her, and opened it. Extracting the Starling and Cobb model R110 portable scanner, a metallic white box about one half meter long , a pair of lenses at one end , with a handle each at the rear end, and at one side. She pulled a power tripod out of the same box, stood, and walked closer to the table, next to Doyle. She looked at him a moment, a nervous look, as if Doyle might suddenly explode next to her. She glanced back at the fighter and swallowed. "Would you mind posing for a scan Lieutenant?"
Gwen Hart returned with her coffee cup. "Almost set up huh?"