Star Trek: Theurgy

Day 05 [1707 hrs.] Scrying through the Storm Front

July 06, 2019, 02:27:35 AM

Scrying through the Storm Front
Stardate: 57569.54
Sunday the 15th of March 2381

[ Lieutenant Elro Kobol | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] @Top Hat @fiendfall @Kinvarus @steelphoenix @Auctor Lucan

Elro furrowed his brow ever so slightly as he finalised his calibration of the autonomic response analysis, having spent the better part of the morning adapting the device to suit Câroon physiology. He himself was hardly familiar with the species, so it had been something of an academic challenge on his part, but the Doctor was confident that the device would be adequate to identify the key physiological changes that would denote a lie. Of course, how the extrademensional parasite tethered to the man would affect the accuracy of the device, Elro couldn’t even begin to speculate.

He’d used Thea’s data recorded from Doctor Nicander to base the parameters on, and several devices would be used in tandem to record a number of the former physician’s physiological changes throughout their interrogation. It would both monitor his brain for blood-flow-velocity changes in keeping with a traditional cognitive polygraph, alongside recording his blood pressure, heart rate, temperature fluctuations, bodily movement… All telltale factors in the demonstration of anxiety or apprehension.

And if the parasite allegedly inhabiting his body was able to influence the former diagnostic tools measuring criteria, a second device would be monitoring him for pupil dilation, eye contact, response time, voice stress, pitch, frequency, micro tremors, anything that might suggest that the prisoner was saying something that might give him the slightest reason to hesitate. Of course, from what Elro had learned about his predecessor, he imagined that the man would be well accustomed to telling blatant lies to people’s faces, so the ARA might detect only the subtlest fluctuations.

But even something subtle was interpretable, and no being could completely conceal a lie from others, and themselves…

The ARA consisted of three devices, most commonly fitted upon a biobed for more precise readings, but given the circumstances, the portable options would need to suffice. A small cortical monitor was attached to either side of the temple, measuring the vast majority of physiological changes one would undergo during the process of lying. A tertiary device would be responsible for obtaining and interpreting the data to determine whether the prisoner was telling the truth, or sowing lies, which the Betazoid would be monitoring throughout the interrogation.

With Ducote there as well, he could very readily communicate the data to his Commander telepathically, who could respond as required. He understood that they were also to be joined by at least one representative from the science department, whom would be using the valuable opportunity to attempt to establish any scientific explanation for the parasitic presence. And perhaps a means to identify or void it.

They were also to be joined by Commander Hathev, whom would be providing a fresh and appropriately sceptical perspective about the parasitic threat. Given her profession as a councilor, and her innate Vulcan perspective, between the group of them, Elro was confident that they would leave no stone unturned.

With a sigh of finality, Elro placed the devices he had been calibrating back into its protective case, closing the kit and taking tucking it securely under her arm as he stood up from his station and made a move out of the medical lab he had been working in. He had a knot of anticipation tied around his stomach that he felt far more conscious of as he began to shed off the layer of concentration that had kept his anxiety at bay whilst he’d been working on calibrating the ARA.

It wasn’t his own apprehension that was necessarily the cause of his concern however. More his conversation back a few days prior, when he’d sat in the arborium with Commander Stark and felt the eminations of negativity simply radiate off of the mere mention of Nicander’s name. She’d responded so negatively to the thought of him, that Elro found it difficult to remain entirely objective. He didn’t believe that one person could have such negative association with another without a very valid stimuli behind it… 

“Deck Seven.” Elro dryly instructed as he stepped into the turbolift, hand softly reaching up to nervously scratch at the side of his temple, his closely trimmed fingernails tracing backwards into his hairline and adjusting his hair pointlessly behind his ear.

So far in his Starfleet career, Elro had never found himself party to such a high-profile interrogation before. He’d been responsible for programming autonomic response analysis’ before, and he had treated criminals and enemies in Sickbay, and he had been used as a telepathic verification more than enough times to be familiar with the process… But still, interrogation hardly came naturally to him.

Being a Betazoid, he was still somewhat unfamiliar with dishonesty, and to have to stare it straight in the face was always a somewhat unorthodox juxtaposition to his psyche. But he was about to confront a reportedly dangerous man, possessed by an enigmatic extra-dimensional parasite that gave him the ability to survive life-ending injuries, born to a species unimpeachable by telepathy and reported abilities to ‘influence’ traditional states of matter using some form of internal energy that Starfleet couldn’t quite explain.

Not to mention that Elro was the replacement of the man whom he was about to assist in interrogating…

But as the turbolift opened, and the Betazoid stepped out, he exhaled a slow breath to a count of eight seconds as he walked, imagining the negative pockets of anxiety and fear in his mind as whiffs of smoke, and imagining his drawn-out breaths clearing the smoke from the air around him. A Vulcan technique he had been taught as a wayward child who struggled to differentiate his own thoughts from others…

Whilst his thoughts settled the majority of his concerns, the underlying current of apprehension was soon quashed in his mind as he stepped through into the security center and caught sight of Commander Ducote. If the Doctor had faith in any one person to do a perfect job, it would undoubtedly be the Commander.

“I’ve calibrated the ARA to Câroon physiology.” Elro informatively began as he approached the Commander, delicately removing the device from under his arm and holding it in his hands as he would a box of delicate cakes. “Though we may need to take the readings with a proverbial pinch of salt, given that the extra-dimensional Parasite may be able to somewhat mask the physiological responses to any mistruths.”

“But either way, seeing as our telepathy is void here, it is our best chance of obtaining reliable data we can correlate with the expected parameters for his species. It may even provide some information about the way the Parasite effects his body that perhaps wouldn't have been as significant on other scans.” Elro suspected he was being inconcise; so he concluded swiftly. “And even should the Parasite attempt to mask his responses, I highly doubt it would be so able as to outmanoeuvre every faculty of this technology.” The Betazoid demonstrated as much confidence as he could through his voice. Whilst he didn’t think he was demonstrating any nervousness, Ducote would have already picked up on it, he was sure.

But, who wouldn’t be nervous before encountering such a storm?  

Re: Day 05 [1707 hrs.] Scrying through the Storm Front

Reply #1 – July 09, 2019, 11:38:40 PM

[ Cmdr Ranaan Ducote | Security Centre | Deck 07 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Auctor Lucan @fiendfall @Kinvarus @steelphoenix @TWilkins

The newly-minted XO - well, re-minted? - sat in one of the interrogation rooms neighbouring the brig proper. He was reading through the notes available on the good Doctor... while his initial impression of the man had been dim to say the least, there were still huge holes in his information that meant he could not form a reliable context for the person as a whole. Other people's experience would have to do. His current choice of venue was not permanent, either; Nicander was altogether far too dangerous to let out of his cell. Ducote simply wanted a room to himself to prepare while he waited for the others.

He checked the time. The exos should be about ready, now. Ducote stood, straightened his tunic, and stepped into the main waiting area of the complex. The aide on duty looked over, so he nodded a greeting. Without comment, she went back to her work, satisfied she wasn't needed. The pair of exo-suited Security officers rounded the corner, striding surprisingly lightly around the curved gangway surrounding the central compartment, the just-audible whine of servos and power packs apparent under the general babble in the centre. They each held a pulse rifle at rest, though he noted that the settings visible on the outward side and top of the weapons were set slightly north of 'maximum stun'.

If the parasite pressed the issue, they might be necessary. Ops were still finishing the patch job on sickbay. His own pistol was set to a similarly-high output, holstered at his belt.

"Chief Keyah," Ducote greeted the Bolian lead, her helmet still off and cradled under her off-arm.

"Commander," came the neutral response.

"Hopefully you two won't be needed... but if he does get out again-"

"Oh, we will."

The accurate assumption and rather decisive rejoinder forestalled the rest of what he planned to say. There didn't seem to be anything to add. Ducote simply nodded at them both; Keyah slipped her helmet on and sealed it, then the pair of them stalked away towards the brig.

"I've calibrated the ARA to Câroon physiology."

The hybrid turned, grateful for the distraction, and offered a tight-lipped smile for Elro as he approached. "Though we may need to take the readings with a proverbial pinch of salt, given that the extra-dimensional Parasite may be able to somewhat mask the physiological responses to any mistruths..." the doctor continued, with Ducote listening attentively. "... And even should the Parasite attempt to mask his responses, I highly doubt it would be so able as to outmanoeuvre every faculty of this technology."

He looked down at the innocuous thing in the taller man's hands. "Lie detectors, Elro? It feels somewhat ridiculous that we're reduced to such old-school methods. Not that I'm sure what choice we have..." The two ex-Endeavour officers shared an obsidian gaze, with the elder of the two searching somewhere behind the eyes of the younger. "It'll be alright, Elro. Strongest forcefield possible, and plenty of ways to stop him going anywhere. If he's truly as willing as he asserts, this could even be quite short." God knows, I have enough to catch up on without spending half a day in here.

As the others arrived, he gathered them into an impromptu meeting by the couches in the waiting area. "Good to have you all here. I requested you because I hope that with officers who were not among the original Theurgy crew until very recently, we might be better able to maintain an objective eye on what Nicander gives us. If anything. For what it's worth, I'm not sure how much actionable information we'll get, but the effort must be made, and it would be derelict to ignore such a resource under our noses.

"I don't plan to be conducting this... interview alone, either. If any of you have a relevant question for him, please by all means ask it as they come up. None of us is going to be able to cover everything, and I'd like to keep the signal-to-noise ratio as high as possible here. Any questions, queries, quandaries, before we begin?" None seemed immediate. "Then follow me."

Ducote led the way into the brig, past the now-empty cells that had once held Klingon prisoners (returned in shame to Martok's fold), to the cell currently being stared at by two opaque faceplates of the two exo-suited security crew. Their rifles were shouldered now, though not yet aimed. Even knowing he couldn't read Nicander's species, he still lamented the fact that he'd be operating without his usual crutch here.

"Mister Nicander," he said, tapping a panel on the wall as a face-sized hole appeared in the forcefield with a buzzing border that flashed with static. "Please put your head through the oculus."

As he did so, Ducote waved Kobol  forward to attach the ARA. "Back inside, thank you," he said, when the CMO finished, closing the oculus once more.

"Please identify yourself, for the record." A formality, just to keep things above-board. Didn't think I'd be running one of these again for a while. 

"Also present at and relevant to this interrogation are Commander Ducote, first officer; Lieutenant Commanders Martin, chief science officer; Kaeris, assistant chief science officer; Hathev, chief counsellor; and Lieutenant Kobol , chief medical officer. Session begins at... seventeen-fifteen hours, stardate five-seven-five-six-nine point five-four.

"Mister Nicander, I would like to start with how you escaped your cell during the Borg attack in the Azure Nebula - were you helped, or was there some prior sabotage on your part?"

The question might appear tangential to the potential parasite threat aboard, but there were certainly some more concrete things he could address in this ship's security first.

Re: Day 05 [1707 hrs.] Scrying through the Storm Front

Reply #2 – July 11, 2019, 12:05:07 AM

[ Lt Cmdr Hathev | Security Centre | Deck 07 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @TWilkins @Top Hat  @Auctor Lucan @Kinvarus @steelphoenix

Hathev was, as ever, punctual and precise in her arrival. She had not yet had cause to visit the brig during her stay upon the Theurgy -- the cells in which she and the other Bellerophon refugees had been temporarily housed had been in the cargo hold, not here -- yet as she grew more accustomed to the architecture and organisation of the vessel upon which she now served, her ability to accurately predict the amount of time needed to reach any given area aboard was sharpened to a count of seconds, even without previous experience travelling that route.

Even so, she was displeased to find herself a full 23 seconds early. Wasteful.

Commander Ducote stood in the centre of the room, Lieutenant Kobol  at his elbow, their uniforms a splash of colour against the stubbornly monochrome surroundings. She crossed to them briskly, greeting them in a manner that was both succinct and decorous. There was no call for idle chatter and so she allowed herself to lapse into silence as they waited for the other attendees to arrive.

As the officers in question joined the small group gathering in the Security Centre, Hathev noted her teal-uniformed compatriots were to vastly outnumber those of other disciplines, the Executive Officer a single pinprick of red among them. Curious there were to be none from Security present; she did not recall the name of the officer newly-appointed to be that department’s head. Another from the Endeavour, she remembered, his was neither a file she had read nor a personage she had met. His absence here was no great tragedy, ‘Security’ all-too-often being almost analagous with the kind of military-minded young fool who considered pulse rifles a useful method of self-defense and not a deadly weapon with the capability to harm not only its target but the individual presumptuous enough to wield it. In war, such children could be and unfortunately were put to a use; in an interrogation, a more delicate hand was needed.

Hathev considered her own hand to be a veritable scalpel. Not that she anticipated her involvement in the matter would be great; she was here more as an observer than an active participant. Officially present due to her expertise as a psychologist and her rank as Head Counsellor, it was hardly a secret she was also interested in studying an infected individual for herself. The video evidence Captain Ives had shown her before their first meeting had been a confused mixture of arguably fake, disturbingly cruel, and chillingly unexplained. The experiences she had seen through Cir’Cie’s mind had persuaded her of the crew’s intent, and the questions surrounding the video feed had convinced her there was certainly something unknown at work; the two facts coupled had been enough for her to remain aboard, confident in the knowledge that the Theurgy’s mission was true.

There was, however, a stark difference between analyses of first and second-hand data. The inconclusive facts, each a step removed from the reality they described, that had been offered her by Ives had been enough to convince her of something, but conclusions drawn from data gathered and presented by others will always provide an incomplete picture. Any scientist must examine the subject of their study first-hand, giving them the freedom to fully capitalise upon their expertise that they might focus upon the details they find most pertinent, and experiment with subject and hypothesis until finally they are able to draw a conclusion based upon observed truth and real, first-hand knowledge.

This was such an opportunity for her. She would remain quiet, of course; yet her mind would never rest, analysing the minutiae of the interrogation even as they occurred. If an addition occurred to her, she was glad to know the commander would leave the floor open. His professional demeanour was appreciated; as was his brevity.

Inside the brig was unpleasant, although not for any tangible reason Hathev could determine. Perhaps it was simply her bias, having occupied a similar space herself all too recently; or perhaps it had more to do with the single occupant of the cell they stopped at, to do with the tenseness of the two faceless Security officers (pulse rifles included, she couldn’t help noticing with a mental scoff. Of course.). She positioned herself slightly to one side, allowing her a view of both the commander and Mr Nicander. The first question posed by the former was interesting; it was not the first question she herself would have gravitated towards, nor she imagined the one her teal-collared companions would have posed either. However it demonstrated an unfailing practicality she was beginning to see was something of a pattern with Commander Ducote, and that at least she could respect.

Her eyes slid to the deposed doctor in the cell. She had to admit to something of a professional curiosity at the singular enigma the man would certainly prove himself to be. After dedicating her career to recognising and parsing emotions as they were conveyed upon the faces of humans and other emotional, over-expressive beings, would she have the skill necessary to read similarly into the demeanour of a species about which she knew almost nothing? How much of her knowledge could be transferred, if any at all? And how long would it take her to navigate these murky waters until she could see through them clear as day, just as she could a human, an Andorian, even a Klingon? After nearly 100 years of study she considered herself an expert on such matters; how quickly could she learn the psychological language of this new contender?

The slight uptick in the beating of her heart told her she was experiencing slightly elevated adrenaline production in anticipation. Above all, she had always appreciated a challenge.

Re: Day 05 [1707 hrs.] Scrying through the Storm Front

Reply #3 – July 11, 2019, 09:20:48 PM

Lt. Cmdr Vivian Martin |  Security Centre | Deck 07 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy  ]   Attn: @TWilkins @fiendfall @Top Hat @Auctor Lucan @steelphoenix
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Vivian stepped out of her quarters and made her way down the corridors. It was time. Time for them to interrogate the former CMO of this ship, Dr Nicander, their own resident infested and get some answers. Hopefully Nicander would be able to provide them all some answers that would be able to help them expose the parasites and let the galaxy see the truth. Personally she also hoped that he would provide her something scientific that she would put her department to work on to aid. How the parasite's bond to a host, if they were allergic to anything, any technology they might have knowledge off that her and her team could research or replicate somehow, there were possibilities.

Stepping into the turbolift, she instructed it to take her to the Security Centre where the brig was. While riding the elevator hummed it's way through the ship, whisking her to her destination, the memory of her night spent with Nicander flashed through her mind, forcing her to shudder. She hadn't known that he had been infested at the time or how close she had come to potential death but now that she did, the very thought and knowledge that she had slept with him disgusted her to her very core.

Another shudder ran through her as she tried to push the memories of that evening back into the far corner of her mind and felt her heart skip a beat when the Turbolift doors opened on the correct deck. She couldn't back out of this, she was the Chief Science Officer now, she had said she would be there and she kind of had to be and it wouldn't look good for her to chicken out now.

Taking a deep but shuddered breath she stepped out of the lift into the corridor and started slowly but casually walking down the corridor, hearing the turbolift doors hiss shut behind her. Making her way down the corridors, Vivian allowed her breathing to slow and maintained her pace, putting on a neutral expression as she neared ever closer to the Security centre.

Vivian entered the security centre on time and looked around the room. Commander Ducote was standing in the centre of the room, with Lieutenant Kobol  flanking him and Lieutenant Commander Hathev standing nearby as well. Vivian smiled at the three and made her way over to join them, unable to help but notice that currently the three teal coloured uniforms far outnumbered the others.

"Good Morning everyone." she said as she came to a stop, already regretting not having that second cup of coffee before she had come up here. She wasn't sure who else besides Vaeris, one of her assistant chief's was attending, Vanya having already informed her that she would not be attending given both her and Vaeris's attendance, which was a fair point.

The CSO listened as Ducote told them all that if any of them had any questions to feel free to ask them and while Vivian had a few, some scientific, some more medical, she would play it by ear first, see what happened and nodded.

Then it was time to head into the brig and felt her apprehension rise just slightly but did her best to keep her face neutral and push the feelings back down deep. Of course it didn't help matters that the ship's chief counselor was standing but a few feet away from her, even more so since Vivian knew that she probably should have booked an appointment with one of them by now. Hopefully with the interrogation going on, the Vulcan wouldn't be paying any attention to her and all Vivian had to do was keep her cool, she could do that.

Inside the room there was a...feeling in the air, not something Vivian could accurately describe but it was there and before them, in the cell was the thing. She managed to suppress the shudder but also shook her head slightly. "Not a thing, Nicander is still a person, you need to remember that Viv and not just the thing that's been playing him like a puppet for god knows how long. she thought to herself and had to try to remember.

Glancing briefly at Nicander, she was at least thankful that the two security guards with pulse rifles were there, just in case. If there was one thing they all knew by now it was to never underestimate those parasites. Still Vivian forced herself to focus as she listened to Ducote start the interrogation, this would be...interesting.

Re: Day 05 [1707 hrs.] Scrying through the Storm Front

Reply #4 – July 13, 2019, 06:22:52 AM

[ Lt. Cmdr Vael Kaeris | Security Centre | Deck 07 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Auctor Lucan  @fiendfall  @Kinvarus  @Top Hat  @TWilkins

Vael had to admit he held a certain amount of trepidation in this new position he had agreed to take, but true to the assurances of the CSO, an opportunity to participate in the interrogation of the former CMO -- presumed to be one of the so-called infected -- presented itself.  In this, he could at least find some personal sense of purpose and it pleased him to know that much of the procedure would be conducted by those not previously subject to the potential hysteria and hyperbole of this place.  It would be too distracting to monitor the responses of the subject while simultaneously monitoring those of his fellow inquisitors.

He had witnessed interrogations before.  Been subject to them as well.  All precautionary efforts to train the young scion of the extended royal house against potential insurgency back home.  Starfleet training came with a certain amount of similar instruction but, for the most part, Starfleet interrogations often operated with an elevated sense of concern for the discomfort of their subjects.  Certainly, there was some tolerance for the occasional tear or despairing out cry, but few officers seemed willing to test more precarious limits.  Having seen the footage of prior infested rampages, he was curious to see what limits would be tested this session.  If nothing, the crew of Theurgy seemed ready and willing to act to excess when it suited the situation, but this impromptu team was not yet "of Theurgy".

As he rounded the corner to the designated assembly point, his eyes immediately gravitated to the Commander and Dr. Kobol , both of whom he greeted with a nod of familiarity.  He was on duty so anything more congenial was out of the question, but to those with whom he'd previously worked, it wasn't unexpected to see him so readily cloaked in his duties.  The next to meet his eyes was a Vulcan dressed in teal.  Lt. Commander Hathev, if he was not mistaken.  While he'd not had the liberty to greet her prior, he felt a certain sense of approval at her inclusion.  "Counselor," he greeted with an inclination of his head.

Finally, his eyes moved to Lt. Commander Martin, his newly assigned superior. "Chief," he concluded, with a similar nod of respect.  It was an unconventional assembly to say the least, awash in teal as they were with only a hint of red.  Curious that there would be no dedicated security staff assigned.  If the infested were half as dangerous as they were lead to believe by the footage they'd been shown, this seemed to be a woefully unarmed team to confront one.  He noted a cynical thought that perhaps this was a method by which to eliminate those from outside the established crew he might decry the validity of their claims, but it seemed overly risky to include their CSO among the potential targets.

Unless, of course, this was all by her design.  Vael took a breath.  Cynicism was healthy.  Conspiracy theories were decidedly not.  Perhaps he should have taken more of an opportunity to meditate this morning.

As he followed the team to the cell where the interrogation would take place, he took the opportunity to review the ever-present PADD.  The subject was a Câroon -- not only telepathically unreadable but reportedly capable of remote material manipulation.  A curious species and certainly a reasonable target for infestation if the motivations ascribed to these parasites was to be believed.  This added some complexity to his analysis -- without telepathy, they would be relying primarily on technological discernment of his veracity.  Lt. Commander Hathev, likely, would have her professional training for further analysis.  But what of his more preternatural capabilities?  Had they adequately accounted for such manipulations?

He made another mental note.  It was complication he would need to address at a more opportune time.

Re: Day 05 [1707 hrs.] Scrying through the Storm Front

Reply #5 – July 14, 2019, 01:43:13 AM

[ Doctor Lucan cin Nicander | Security Center | Deck 07 | USS Theurgy ]
^{Attn: @twilkins @tophat @fiendfall @kinvarus @steelphoenix}
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Since the arrival to Aldea, Doctor Lucan cin Nicander had been moved to a proper brig cell instead of the one in temporal holding. While this meant a lack of a gravity field to separate him from other members of the crew, it also meant more secure transporter inhibitors with their own power sources. More imortantly, he'd been given a fresh uniform to replace the scourged one he'd worn when his true nature was revealed. He no longer had to sleep on a hover gurney, which had been somewhat of a relief. Yet regardless his comforts, he lacked that which he needed the most.

Hope, that the crew had heeded his word, and were actually trying to finish what he'd begun.

Since the visit by Counselor Ejek before the battle, and Heather MacMillan afterwards, he'd had no new hearings. No one had visited, so he knew not if his research on transphasic light and its effect on the nameless darkness was being pursued. He appreciated that they had been wise enough to not tell him where the Theurgy had arrived at after the escape through the aperture. He'd been adamant about the necessity to keep him ignorant and not happen to show him any nav logs or sensor data, since he had no way of knowing if other Hosts were able to use the same ability her had - seeing through their eyes as he had.

So, when the delegation of interrogators arrived, he was perhaps still unshaven, but he was of proper hygiene and his uniform whole and presentable. He'd been reading things that Security had permitted him access to on a PADD, and the only sign that he wasn't on duty was his lack of footwear. It was a cultural thing, admittedly. Wind Regioneers preferred bare feet over the constraining footwear that came with a Starfleet uniform. He had no intention to wear such unless he had to.

He got up from his bunk his pale grey eyes studying the present faces - some known and some less so. What irked him immediately, was how Counselor Ejek wasn't present. The convsersation with her had been informative, he believed, but now the risk was that he'd have to repeat himself lest they wouldn't understand his plight or the import that lay in the transphasic light. Ejek might have made notes, but he knew how the distrust towards him would make them sceptic towards the truth.

Without preamble or introduction, the Commander just asked him to put his head out through the oculus, and he recognised the ARA that Doctor Kobol  had brought. So much for civility, he thought and sighed, already sensing that Ejek's account had either not been heeded, or his claims dismissed. The humans had an expression... Two steps forward and one step back? Was that what he had to expect? At least the commander said 'please'.

"Certainly," he said evenly in his deep voice, and unfolded his mismatched hands from behind his back. He put his tattooed and his artificial hands on his knees, and leaned forward enough to let the present Doctor fit the ARA on him. Once done, he straightened and folded his hands behind his back again - mien impassive and patient. He had to be patient, for loosing his temper would not be constructive if they were to pay his claims any attention. He was not the least concerned about the ARA either. Because on one hand, it might lend him some credibility, and on the other, any lies by omission would likely not register. Of course, he was under no illusion that they would rely on the device either. At least not fully.

Lucan's eyes drifted to Vivian Martin, remembering the night they had shared fondly, but he suspected that mentioning it would be counter-productive. He was asked to identify himself, so he looked away from her, keeping himself impassive and not demanding to know how far they had come with his research.

"I am Doctor Lucan cin Nicander, Lieutenant Commander in Starfleet and formerly Chief Medical Officer on the USS Theurgy." To his knowledge, he had been neither demoted nor stripped of uniform, even though he effectively was no more than a civilian prisoner aboard. The uniform he'd been given still retained his rank pips, so he felt he had little more to add... besides what he thought obvious. "I am also a Host to an alien entity, which is a part of the nameless darkness and the enemy that has usurped Starfleet Command. Until detection and eradication of his entity has been made possible, I am a prisoner aboard."

The presentation he was given held a number of surprises. One being that the Betazoid in front of him was the new First Officer, and the Doctor was his successor in sickbay, and that the unknown Vulcan present had taken Counselor Ejek's position. This might explain why she wasn't present... Lucan could but hope the Cardassian had been heard, but he was more worried than not... Had Ejek died fighting the Borg? By the winds, was he back to square one?

He was about to ask, when Commander Ducote asked him the first question. It was one that truly told Lucan that the present delegation had the entirely wrong focus, and he rolled his eyes at them. Had he given them any cause to be concerned since last he gazed into the abyss? He had been nothing but cooperative, and still the first question out of the man's mouth was about the means in which he ought to be incarcerated.

"I already told you," he said, but took a deep breath, and squared his shoulders. "The Borg tried to reach me in my holding cell, Commander, likely because they have yet to assimilate someone of the Câroon species. The gravity field was in the way for them, just like the forcefields. The power outage took care of those, and I had to escape the drones before they could reach me. I had already told several people that it was of the utmost importance that I wasn't assimilated, and not just in terms of my personal preferences of staying out of the Collective. The armoured guard detail outside my cell had already been overrun, so I had to get out of the cell unaided. I might be a Doctor, but I am also Câroon, so I am not entirely defenceless."

Not a single word of that a lie, of course. They could not know the whole truth because then they would be completely preoccupied with alternative means to keep him locked up, and too distracted from what was really important. Hoping to be able to move on to more pressing concerns, like the threat to the Galaxy as a whole, he had questions of his own.

"My turn, because I am deeply concerned about the progress of finding the right phase variance for the transphasic light of the Radiant aboard. I want this thing inside me banished from my body, and I have tried - several times - to emphasise the import of the research I began. This research ended up in Lieutenant Simon Tovarek's hands after I was locked up, and its import has increased now that the Radiant - Heather MacMillan - was corrupted by the Savi. Please tell me that all available resouces are dedicated to finding the means to not just detect the Infested, but to saving us Hosts?"

Barely pausing, he brought up his second deep concern, which was the absence of Ejek, and hope that she was still alive. "Your predecessor," he said, and his pale grey eyes moved to the Vulcan, "said she would be making regular wellness checkups on me before the battle, but I have not seen her since. No one has bothered to speak with me aside from moving me to this new cell. By the winds, I spoke at length with her about the pressing needs in relation to the threat we face, and with her not here now.... I fear I may have to repeat myself yet again."

He didn't even bother to drive home the point of how inefficient and unprofessional that would be considering the stakes involved. Then again, they might not even care, merely seeing him as a monster instead of someone who tried to not just save his own skin. "Please tell me, is Ejek still alive, and has anything of what I told her been passed on officially before this interrogation?"

Lucan had suspected that he might not be trusted, but if he'd have to repeat everything every time someone bothered to speak with him... he worried that his patience would run out long before the Infested found the ship again.

Re: Day 05 [1707 hrs.] Scrying through the Storm Front

Reply #6 – July 14, 2019, 04:45:13 PM

[ Cmdr Ranaan Ducote | Security Centre | Deck 07 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Auctor Lucan @fiendfall @Kinvarus @steelphoenix @TWilkins

Outwardly, Ducote remained as impassive as he had when he started the formalities of the interrogation. Elro, however, would have little difficulty picking up the internal equivalent of a heavy sigh at both the blunt evasion of his question and the fact that Wenn Cinn (God and the Prophets rest him) was not the only interminably verbose person aboard this ship. He wondered if there was a seminar one could attend to learn the fine art of using that many words to say as little as possible. Perhaps he spent some time near the Federation Council.

The XO took a breath to respond, but was interrupted by the ex-CMO. He let it out slowly.

"My turn."

Ducote listened through, and at a couple of points took a note or two on his PADD to serve as topics for later. As the imprisoned man got to his last question, the hybrid waited for a deliberate second to ensure he was actually finished, and then opened his mouth to reply again.

"Mister Nicander, why you escaped your cell is obvious. I don't even blame you for making the attempt. What I asked you, was how. You'll recall that the reason you were in the temporary holding area behind twenty-five Gs and two forcefields was because the last time you used your..." he checked a detail on his PADD, "farsight, you murdered three officers in the anteroom. I need to know how you escaped, so that we can send a team to disable the mechanism that allowed it - whether it's a hardware device or a malicious subroutine hidden in the data libraries."

Nicander's access codes and keys had long since been frozen and revoked, so there should have been no way he could command the ship to carry him anywhere. And he certainly hadn't made it on foot past a Borg boarding/assimilation party and six decks of hull breaches and plasma fires to wind up in a room with only one way in. Ducote's mention of the farsight should also give him an indication of where this conversation was likely to go, if he was half as intelligent as his file stated.

"Ejek is alive, but even if she hadn't been, she is quite stereotypically Cardassian in her attention to detail and diligent record-keeping. She filed an extensive report after your discussion. And there are Science teams working on the transphasic problem right now." He declined to add that they had started only this morning at 0900. Instead, he gestured to Martin and Vael. "They can tell you more, within reason."

Dark eyes appraised Nicander through the forcefield, as Ducote's hands folded in front of him clasping the PADD against his belt. "So. Again, and kindly without evasion through technical truths and lies of omission: how did you get from your cell to the captain's ready room during the battle in the nebula?"

He didn't trust the doctor - and likely wouldn't, given what he knew of the parasites so far - but that was irrelevant when it came to this. As long as the information they got (if anything, given the impatient hostility he'd been met with so far) was verifiable, or any theories produced were falsifiable, that would be enough.

Re: Day 05 [1707 hrs.] Scrying through the Storm Front

Reply #7 – July 15, 2019, 10:28:13 AM

[ Doctor Lucan cin Nicander | Security Center | Deck 07 | USS Theurgy ]
^{Attn: @TWilkins @Top Hat @fiendfall @Kinvarus @steelphoenix}
[Show/Hide]

When the new First Officer accused him of lying by omission, Lucan let the surprise he felt become plain on his face. An evasion? Would it really be so plain? Ah, of course... He had forgotten to answer the actual questions posed. He paused because it was only natural that the accusations that were thrown in his face were remarkable in their own right.

"Commander, I have already given my answer, and I don't know what you base your assumptions on." He turned away and went to sit on his bunk. He sighed and ran his tattooed hand through his hair. "If you are calling me a liar without grounds for it, I am not sure how this interrogation can be productive. If my word means nothing, what point is there? Even with this thing on my head, it seems your fear for me or the enemy inside me is clouding your judgement. I understand that. I do, suspicion and scepticism healthy to some extent when dealing with a potential threat. But by the winds, please give me some benefit of the doubt here? I am trying to help."

He folded his hands, looked Ducote in the eye from where he sat, and restated his answer after taking a deep breath - repeating the questions that Ducote had posed. "Was I helped?" He shook his head, and articulated clearly for his audience. "No, I was not helped. Was there some prior sabotage on my part when I escaped? No, I preformed no kind of sabotage when I evaded the Borg drone that tried to get into my cell. By breaking the power supply, there was nothing stopping the drone from reaching me since it had already dealt with the guards."

Patience was a virtue Lucan knew well, so he would indulge the Commander again. In fact, there was no one helping him, and his access to Thea was no sabotage, but built into the ship when it was commissioned. "As I already stated, however, I am Câroon, which allows me to use the elements around me. So I managed to escape the drone." Next, there was the way in which he might have reached the Captain's ready room, which was the easy part to explain. "There was a battle ranging aboard, but I have climbed jefferies tubes before. When Captain Vasser hijacked the ship, I had to escape sickbay together with two other officers, so I am quite familiar with the way you ascend from here to Deck 01. Sickbay is not far from here, and back when Vasser had taken command, we made it all the way up there in order to take the ship back. My reasoning was that the safest place from being assimilated was up there with the rest of the Senior Staff, who ought to have plenty of security guards present. If you find it hard to believe that I can climb the jefferies tubes from here to the top deck, you can just consult the reports from then, or ask those that were in my company during the escape. Nurse Hylota Vojona and Provisional Warrant Officer Heather MacMillan."

He truly hoped they would move on to the important parts after this extended reply, because if they found out how he'd really done it, then the focus on what he could offer them would be gone. "I hid in the Ready Room instead of immediately entering the bridge because the kind of suspicion you are showing me now has no place on the bridge during a battle. What was I supposed to do instead, go through the yeoman's door and report my presence to the security checkpoint? They might as well have shot me on sight, correct? You almost did on the bridge. But, overhearing the development on the bridge, however, I had to reveal myself, given the stakes involved... and the available option for me to use the Omega Device."

The dilemma, of course was that if they had come for the farsight rather than his knowledge... the present interrogators were in danger. He wasn't entirely sure he could remain in control, and he preferred to not loose his sanity to the darkness - to allow it a firmer hold. Using the ability deteriorated his mind... So he realised, of course, that he should have been open about his access to Thea immediately after his body had been restored. It was too late now, however. It was easy to be wise in hindsight. Now, he had no option but to stick to his word.

"Now, unless you want me to answer the same questions a third time, Commander... you mentioned the farsight I've used before." His pale grey eyes strayed to the others, searching for their intent in their eyes. "Pray tell, is this why you have come here?"

Doctor Nicander hoped not. For their sake. His personal cost was too great, valuing his sanity as he did, but for them? It would just take a single word from his lips... and he'd be out of his cell and right in their midst. He wanted to protect them, but the truth could make them kill him out of fear. By the winds, don't ask me to do it. Spare yourselves... he thought, while he looked a them. Unbidden images from the abyss flashed before his eyes, as the thing inside him tore them apart. You don't know what you are asking for.

---

OOC: Excellent post Top Hat and I am glad that matter was brought up! Now, @TWilkins goes next I believe, followed by the rest. Plenty of reactionary fodder here, but there was also the mentioning of the research re-started on the transphasic light.

Re: Day 05 [1707 hrs.] Scrying through the Storm Front

Reply #8 – July 15, 2019, 04:28:40 PM

[ Lieutenant Elro Kobol | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] @Auctor Lucan @fiendfall @steelphoenix @Kinvarus @Top Hat

Had the situation and surroundings, not been quite so bleak, Elro would no doubt have had to release one of his rarer chuckles at Ducote’s inner sentiment. He himself had learnt a considerable time ago that Commander Ducote did not appreciate any sort of description that used more words than necessary, when it came to explanations. And this Doctor Nicander certainly seemed to be an expert on the use of as many words as he could conjure to say as little as he possibly could manage. Elro felt that sentiment of half-fury from the Commander beside him as easily as he’d have felt the heat of an environmental control unit set to replicate Vulcan.

However, the situation was far removed from one where Elro could have even considered such a humoured outburst, and whilst he could appreciate the humour for a brief moment, aside from that brief digression, his concentration only wavered when he paid attention to the words that their prisoner was saying, or when he flicked his eyes back to the PADD in his hands to monitor the ARA analysis. Things had been somewhat rocky thus far, but he had expected as such; the ARA was such an imprecise instrument when compared to telepathy.

But each fluctuation in blood-flow-velocity, blood pressure, heart rate, temperature fluctuation, perspiration, movement, eye contact, blinking... Anything that the Câroon’s body did, was recorded along with the words that he flicked off his forked tongue, for them to analyse later. Elro had been predominantly satisfied with the ARA’s analysis thus far, and was mostly convinced that the Câroon was being at least somewhat truthful in his speech. Yet, Elro found that as soon as he began to actually detail his escape from the Borg during the Battle of the Appetures, the ARA began a subtle little series of dances.

Of course, he hadn’t said much prior aside from his name and a vague summary of the key events of the battle. That and the delicate little tidbit he mentioned, calm as a Vulcan master, that he was host to an alien entity, which was a part of a nameless darkness that Elro was severely unfamiliar with, and the enemy that has usurped Starfleet Command. The fact that the ARA didn’t so much as shudder from the norm was another solid piece of evidence mounding up that the parasites were indeed a real threat.

But when he began exploring into further detail, as pressed by Ducote, Elro began to notice that he was far more steady when talking about his puppeted body, as opposed to his apparent escape from the Borg whom had cornered him…

Nicander’s story began with the matter of fact explanation that his species possessed the ability to control the elements around themselves, which he justified as the means he had of escaping the drone. Whilst it was certainly credible, given that Elro himself had managed to escape the Borg, and he had no doubt that Câroon elemental abilities were vastly superior to methane gas and a laser scalpel, Elro noticed a specific jolt on the ARA as the Câroon spoke. Nothing concrete enough to determine a lie, but certainly a symptom of the same…

The former-Doctor continued to explain that he had climbed through the jefferies tubes to ascend to Deck One, going into such depth as to how he had done it before, and that was how he remembered the path. Again, he was certainly telling truths, but perhaps only partial ones… Elro recalled that he himself had undertaken his own, rather unpleasant, journey through the Jefferies tubes during the battle against the Borg. He hadn’t seen the Câroon, and several of the access points had been blocked by battle damage…

Of course, their ship was not of insignificant size, and Elro understood that he and the Câroon could have very easily missed each other… However, with lack of telepathy to verify his honesty, Elro couldn’t help but maintain a sceptical approach. Perhaps he and Ducote could review the schematics of the jefferies tubes and cross reference them with the battle damage following the battle? That would verify whether the Câroon could indeed have undertaken such a journey.

But again, the ARA was only detecting partial indicators, nothing Elro could corroborate into fact or fiction… The Betazoid couldn’t help but recalling how Commander Stark had all but promised Elro that the Câroon was a natural born liar, decept being his second nature. Their relationship, Elro was happy to posturise, was an intimate one. And judging from the empathic emanations he had felt from Vivian, Commander Stark was not the only one to have fallen to the touch of the apparent incubus of a Doctor.

The thought that he had perhaps abused his position, in order to pursue sexual relations, made Elro feel something that transcended mere disgust...

But as the Câroon continued to talk, Elro confirmed another fluctuation, subtle again, mostly indistinguishable from background emotional changes, but something that immediately made the Betazoid pay less attention to the Câroon’s tales of hiding in the ready room, and his irksome complaints of being asked the same questions again… Though his complaint rose Elro’s suspicions once more.

For an ‘innocent’ man, in this matter alone, Nicander was apparently having a great deal of difficulty remaining internally composed. Surely for a man so guilty, he would have been happy to repeat the truth over and over; it seemed as though it would be his only one…

Elro was well aware that his prior knowledge of the man, and his lack of telepathic reassurance was perhaps clouding his judgement, the man was no more real to him than a holodeck character... But his objectivity lapsed or not, from his interpretation of the ARA, he could neither confirm a truth or a lie. Apparently his vast efforts to calibrate the device to Câroon physiology was time unwisely spent…

The natural course of action, given Elro’s somewhat stunted usefulness, was to refer to the chain of Command.

“The ARA cannot confirm whether his tale is fact or fiction. There are definitely clear fluctuations on the factors being monitored, but ones just as easily brought on by stress and frustration.” Elro’s sigh was internal, and was, he sincerely hoped, not echoed across into the minds of his colleagues. “The Starfleet Database simply does not contain enough information concerning Câroon internal physiology to differentiate between standard fluctuation and indicative factors of lies.” Elro extended his explanation to the rest of the group around him, sans their prisoner, of course. It was rare for him to extend a thought to another without expressly gaining consent from them, especially a non-telepathic species, but he understood the requirement to exercise both discretion and information during such a sensitive matter. Naturally, he was not expecting replies from Vael or Vivian, and was only primarily expecting to hear back from Commander Ducote, but he was equally prepared to exchange a telepathic dialogue with Commander Hathev. It at least allowed them to communicate when it came to the non-scientific aspect of their session.

“However, this particular topic, his escape from the Borg in the brig, could be frustrating him, or causing retroactive anxiety if he is indeed telling the truth on these events. I’ll keep a close eye on these same patterns and see if they continue to crop up throughout the rest of our session; that should provide me some clue as to whether these are simply normal responses to stress or whether they are indeed indications of lies. Perhaps when we’re concluded we can corroborate his story, with the information we have from the internal sensors at the timeframe he is suggesting, and then compare the ARA results with the polygraphic cognitive scans…” Elro felt somewhat out of his comfort zones with suggesting such measures, but in one small part of him, he almost felt invigorated by the academic challenge.

“But until then, if we want to determine if he is telling the truth here and now, we may have to make an attempt at catching him out.”

Elro had ready the Starfleet issued policies regarding honesty when communicating with those held under suspicion of crimes. He considered it ‘intentionally grey’.

"If I may?" Elro telepathically posed a suggestion for a change of course that might benifit his readings the most. "Commander Hathev, if you have any questions of your own, it might help me to better establish a baseline for analysis; in my experience, people tend to respond somewhat different to Vulcans in comparison to questioning from other species."

"A predisposition, as it were."

---

My suggestion would be to @fiendfall to go next with any questions Hathev may have for Nicander?

Re: Day 05 [1707 hrs.] Scrying through the Storm Front

Reply #9 – July 16, 2019, 07:22:58 PM

[ Lt Cmdr Hathev | Security Centre | Deck 07 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @TWilkins  @Top Hat  @Auctor Lucan  @Kinvarus  @steelphoenix

Had Hathev known they were to find the erstwhile Chief Medical Officer so cordial, she might have requested they begin with a very different tone entirely. Her only point of reference approaching the interrogation was the video feed shown to her by Ives before she met with him and joined the crew of rebels and dissidents of which she was now one. From that single data point she had anticipated Nicander to be visibly unhinged, like a bad charicature of someone in the throws of a very real and very devastating psychotic episode. She had been aware of the potential for her compatriots to become cruel and demanding, and for the distress suffered by the subject of the interrogation to be ignored or even exacerbated.

Perhaps it was simply too early in the interrogation for such heights to be reached; however thus far Nicander had refuted her expectations entirely. He seemed remarkably amiable, in full control of his faculties, and despite exhibiting signs of discomfort and frustration these were hardly symptoms of anything other than confinement. The matter-of-fact way he had stated the alien infestation within him was the only sign there was anything amiss at all. Perhaps he was simply better at concealing the signs than had been the subject in the recording -- that certainly seemed to be the case -- but without any prior experience with the good doctor Hathev found herself to draw any trustworthy conclusions.

It was a pity the commander had seen fit to launch into such a practical question without preamble. There was a reason she began her counselling sessions with seemingly-innocuous questions, allowing herself to calibrate her analytical readings as it were. Unfortunately neither the question posed by Ducote nor the answer were of much interest to her, and without a stable baseline understanding of Mr Nicander’s idiosynchrasies she would find it even more trying to reach any kind of reliable understanding of his behaviour and deportment. For how could she determine when the subject behaved abnormally without first establishing how ‘normal’ appeared on them? Would it not have been prudent to request a known truth and a known lie from the man, if only to observe the results as they appeared on the Automatic Response Analysis' readout and compare future fluctuations to those observed then?

As it was, she considered the Automatic Reponse Analysis to be a distinct risk. Without fuller knowledge of Dr Kobol  she could not confidently state her trust in his ability to read the device’s output of data without allowing bias to cloud his judgement. In general, lie detectors were an exercise in preconception and false positives. It was hardly as if an individual’s entire biological system was bent towards the telling of either truth or lies; in reality, an elevated heartrate could signify a myriad internal functions, some quite subconscious, and almost all completely innocuous. A hypothesis must be drawn from data collected with an open mind; specifically seeking data to support a theory already-formed was the surest way to inaccuraccy and malpractice.

No, she would have to rely on her own judgement, her observations, and her analysis. She would also request access to the data logs of the Automatic Response Analysis after the interrogation, although she was not entirely certain whether she would be afforded such information. Ideally, she would have arranged for real-time reports of Nicander’s brain activity during the interrogation; however she understood she was present by invitation, and would not overstep her bounds. In any case, she had no experience studying Câroon brain chemistry; even had such arrangements been made, there was no guarantee she would have been able to draw any actionable conclusions from them. Most likely it would simply have led to inaccuraccies as surely as the Automatic Response Analysis was like to do. There was little ideal about the circumstances or execution of this interrogation; she would simply have to make do.

She watched Nicander with a careful eye as he replied to Ducote. He maintained a careful façade of calm -- at best passable by Vulcan standards, but for an emotional species almost impressive -- however at points his true feelings clearly bled through. He seemed frustrated with Ducote’s line of questioning, especially after being caught in a non-answer. He also seemed disturbed with her own presence, speaking of his previous contact with Lieutenant Ejek. Did he simply wish to avoid repeating himself as he said, or had he found her more receptive to his deceptions? Whichever was the case, the concern he expressed at her absense was limited to its affect on him; when he spoke of her potential death, there was little worry on her behalf.

He seemed agitated, impatient to turn the topic to his own research. Hathev had not realised there might be some method of safely extracting parasite from host; if this were true it was little wonder Nicander spoke with such urgency of the project. She understood little of his other references, unfamiliar with the intricaces of his work as she was, however his sense of urgency and unwillingness to repeat himself were curious. Cooperative though he may have seemed, he was distinctly reticent, particularly when challenged; he sought to command the topic of discussion, and though he exhibited a certain amount of contrition she would not be surprised to discover it existed on the surface level of his psyche only.

She was startled from her thoughts by ones that were not her own, echoing within her own head. The Betazoid, of course; only they would be so forward as to foist their opinions upon the minds of others without so much as a by your leave. She kept her eyes trained on Nicander, listening to Mr Kobol ’s observations and suggestions; he could confirm nothing, but that in itself was mildly reassuring as it suggested he would not be leaping to conclusions without due evidence. That he passed the baton to her was unexpected although appreciated: finally she would have the opportunity to create the baseline they so sorely needed.

Hathev regarded the subject for a moment. ‘Mr Nicander, may I clarify a few things with you?’ She waited for his assent before proceeding, posing a new question after the last was answered. ‘How long have you been aboard this vessel? Can you confirm your year of graduation from the Academy?’ Watching his expressions carefully, she continued: ‘Are all the answers you have given me completely truthful?’

She resisted the urge to glance across at Lieutenant Kobol  to corroborate, instead holding her gaze on the disgraced doctor. He would have had little cause to lie, all his answers easy to corroborate against his file. With a baseline for honesty established, now she could turn her attention to one for deception.

‘A few more questions, if you would be so kind,’ she said. ‘Have you ever willingly harmed a Starfleet officer? Do you consider yourself to be a threat to the crew aboard this ship, now or at any point in the future? Is the relation of events you have just offered Mr Ducote accurate to events as they truly transpired?’ She pinned him to the wall with her gaze, sharp as a lepidopterist’s needle. ‘Are all the answers you have now given me now the complete and whole truth?’

Re: Day 05 [1707 hrs.] Scrying through the Storm Front

Reply #10 – July 17, 2019, 05:09:56 AM

[ Lt. Cmdr Vael Kaeris | Security Centre | Deck 07 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Auctor Lucan  @fiendfall  @Kinvarus  @Top Hat  @TWilkins

Vael had to admit his appreciation that Hathev had seen her way to establish a baseline.  Prudently Vulcan and a line of questioning he was spared having to waste his own time in asking.  What he had received of Elro's telepathic message had been shuffled mostly to the back of his thoughts for later processing when he could provide the due analysis it likely deserved.

Once Nicander had responded to Hathev's inquiries, Vael cleared his throat faintly to take the next opportunity.

"Doctor Nicander, it appears that you present for this session with certain presumptions, not the least of which is that you should be the one to set its cadence and topics," Vael remarked, his tone dry and evenly measured.  "I remind you that from our perspective, you are, at the very least, either a rogue agent or worse, a compromised operative who has been not only overseeing the research meant to neutralize the threat these parasites represent while simultaneously having access to the biological profiles of an entire crew."

He narrowed his gaze, continuing matter-of-factly.  "Certainly, you can see just how big of a potential threat we might perceive that alone to be."  Said by anyone else, it would likely be a strained accusation, but from Vael, it was little more than an observation made to someone who was striving to demonstrate a painstakingly crafted mask to the others.  Vael could appreciate the effort, and yet simultaneously felt it important to demonstrate that such efforts were not fruitful under the circumstance.

Straightening slightly, he added, "Therefore, I will say that your prior research will be exhaustively reviewed.  What results from those efforts and the identities of those involved is hardly paramount at this juncture, and if, as you say, the possibility exists of other parasites eavesdropping on these developments, then it would seem your continued ignorance would be ideal for all involved, yourself included."  Again, there was no chastisement in his words, merely a statement of fact.

In his experience, it was not uncommon that those being questioned to be asked the same questions several times in variant words to ensure the consistency and veracity of response.  Fabrications often degraded with retelling, but truth seldom dissolved.

Lowering his gaze for a moment to the PADD he held, his dark irises rose once again to regard the subject of their interrogation.  "Now then, if you find the following questions repetitive I ask that you minimize your frustration and indulge the inquiry as it unfolds.  Please do not qualify, prevaricate, or wax poetic."

"When were you first infested with this parasite?  What were the circumstances by which you became infected?  You appear to ascribe a separate sentience to this entity.  How do you communicate with it?  Does it possess a name or discernible identity distinct from the rest of its species?"

Another tactic for interrogations was the rapid shifting of topics.  Again, where truth persisted, falsehoods often shattered with torque.

Re: Day 05 [1707 hrs.] Scrying through the Storm Front

Reply #11 – July 18, 2019, 12:10:39 PM

[ Doctor Lucan cin Nicander | Security Center | Deck 07 | USS Theurgy ]
^{Attn: @TWilkins @Top Hat @fiendfall @Kinvarus @steelphoenix}
[Show/Hide]

Having risen from his bunk, Lucan looked between the interrogators when they suddenly fell silent when he asked them why they had come there. That lingering quietude told him he'd been correct, and this was an immediate problem. He dared not use the farsight with them present, and he feared for his own sanity in opening himself up to the darkness again. That silence made him think, and pace the cell, for the first time actually feeling trapped inside it. Trapped by circumstance, and wish to do the right thing. To be himself, and not cause further harm. He could feel his heart beating faster, the scalpels of his mind dissecting all the options he had at his disposal.

Eventually, the new counselor didn't answer his question, instead asking to clarify things. That sparked his frustration if anything, because no doubt were she going to focus on his escape rather than the means to deal with the threat to the Federation and the fleet. He clenched his jaw, but inclined his head, still slowly pacing his cell. She wished to know when he came aboard, which they already knew, and then questioned the veracity of his claim.

"You already know I was commissioned to the Theurgy when she was launched," he said, a hard undertone to his Câroon accent, "and you have no doubt read how I graduated in 2375, and spent a year in Starfleet Medical after that since I was Doctor well before I set foot on Earth. I was at Aldea in the Epsilon Mynos System prior to that, learning neurology - their neuroscience studies advanced since they were launching their Gestalt Program in hope to repopulate." When were they going to speak of the threat to the galaxy as a whole rather than scrutinising his track record? "Yes, I am being truthful."

A few more questions? Oh, how he lamented that Ejek had not come instead, for she knew where they had left off. He clenched his mismatched hands as he paced. "I have not harmed anyone in the fleet since I was possessed with this alien entity in the Academy! After the Radiant restored my sanity during the battle at Starbase 84, I have done no harm. Quite the opposite! I am a doctor! Clearly, I am still a threat - however - because the thing is still in me! You saw what happened when I opened myself up to the darkness when we fought the Rotarran. I am not lying to you!"

Then, the male Scientist in Vivian's company spoke up, evidently named Vael Kaeris, and Nicander pale grey eyes shifted to the new speaker. He accused him of trying to narrow the focus of the discussion to certain topics, and of course he was, because they were not asking the important questions. "Regardless what you may think of me, if you decide that I am lying to you, my guilt is secondary to finding a means to save the Hosts. I remind you, that its your duty as Starfleet officers to save your fellow shipmates when under possession of an alien entity. I would think that with the voyage and evidence gathered so far by the crew of this ship... we are well past the point of discerning if the mission is based on a lie. I question the medical ethics in which I have been treated, and I protest against this paranoid hearing in which you assign guilt rather than help me!"

Of course, the point raised about keeping him ignorant was not amiss. "Of course you should keep me in the dark, that's not the issue. I have an issue with your line of questioning since it doesn't deal with the important matters. Not because you are ignorant of the threat, but because you lay your fears at the feet of an innocent man that's been trapped in his own body for years! This is exactly why I did not reveal that my sanity was restored after Starbase 84. Because what comes next? Will you cut me up again? Will you pry my ribcage apart and dig into my innards to see if you find something? Will you subject me to invasive studies and deprive me further of my rights as a patient? Where is your Starfleet morale now, I wonder? Ejected by your cowardise along with your sense of propriety?"

Lucan's heart was beating in his ears now, and he took a deep breath. He was being asked to minimise his frustrations despite how they treated him.... but then the man asked the very same questions that Counselor Ejek had asked him. It made him look pointedly at Commander Ducote, who'd claimed his answers had been well recorded prior to this hearing. He didn't have to voice his protest, he hoped, instead shifting his glare back at the man who'd asked about when he was infected with the parasite. The man even had the audacity to ask him to constrain his reply. Wax poetic? Did he have a problem with the vernacular of his people?

He flexed his tattooed hand, his eyes staring at the man through the barrier. "In the Academy, as I have previously stated, long before my first step aboard the Theurgy. How? I can tell you what I experienced, and I have educated guesses to add, but I still don't know with certainty. I was asleep in my accommodations on Earth, and when I woke up, I was no longer in Starfleet Headquarters. I found myself in a cave, suspended in chains from the ceiling. It was the only time I was there, never having seen the place again. There were figures in the darkness around me, and I could not see their shapes. I think they might not even have been humanoid. I was afraid. The parasite... it fell down upon me from above. It was real. Tangible. Physical. Unlike it's present, invisible state inside my form. This suggests that this place could not have been entirely inside the bounds of this reality, since the darkness exist in a state of flux. Absent, yet present here nonetheless. Out of phase."

Nicander paused, running his artifical hand through his unkempt hair. "The change, you ask of? I was the same person, only with another will governing my thoghts. Intents no longer my own. My memories, my abilities, my mental presence... It was still the same, but the parasite made me a willing Host. I remember I thought I managed to hold on to personal ambitions at first, but it was always there, making my will a part of the design. The common will of all Hosts... to further the cause of Un-Creation."

Lucan was still agitated, but he kept a leash on his ire. "Of course, that would mean the death of us Hosts. The possession breaks down your rationale, takes away something about your survival instincts. You don't question your own fate when the darkness achieves its goal. Your purpose, as a Host, is to act as a vessel for chaos in an orderly society. Only the Hosts gives the darkness a semblance of patience, or directed purpose. It's through the Hosts that they instigated the persecution of the Theurgy. I think that the darkness itself... I doubt it has a sense of direction or higher consciousness. It seeks only to devour."

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Lucan looked towards Vivian Martin, who had yet to speak. "Commander Martin. I met you after my sanity was restored, I wish to apologise to you for not daring to reveal what I carried inside me, because I believed I could control it. I could, before I was mortally wounded. I wanted to find the means in which to exorcise this... thing, knowing that the Radiant was the key to do it. Only she was abducted by the Savi... and now she's been altered. I failed," he clenched his jaw, looking at the others. "It seems my predictions were true. I instead find myself curtailed of my means to help, and for all I know, you will bring out the scalpels next, not able to trust me. I made a mistake in not saying something right away, and it might be a mistake that hobbles the mission entirely, and make you all forsake what the Federation once stood for, before they corrupted it."

If only there was any way he could convince them he was of his full mental faculties. They seemed unable to separate him from what he'd done under the alien influence. If they were just going to use him as a tool to spy on the nameless darkness... He may have to disable his access to Thea for their sake. He did not wish them harm. He was not so sure they didn't wish to harm him, however.

"There have been countless reports of incidents where Starfleet officers did despicable things under alien influence. Have they ever been held accountable for their actions?" he asked them all, loudly. "What makes me different?"

Re: Day 05 [1707 hrs.] Scrying through the Storm Front

Reply #12 – July 21, 2019, 02:32:59 AM

Lt. Cmdr Vivian Martin |  Security Centre | Deck 07 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy  ]  Attn: @TWilkins @fiendfall @Top Hat @Auctor Lucan @steelphoenix
[Show/Hide]

Vivian had remained quiet ever since they had entered the room, containing Nicander and his cell, listening and observing the conversations going on around her. She caught Nicander glance at her and felt her skin crawl as memories of their night together flashed through her mind, she didn't know how close she had come to death that night and honestly she didn't want to know. It had happened, she didn't die and she definitely didn't want to think or talk about it now, at least not in front of all these other people. Besides she and they weren't here to discuss her one night stand but to get some much needed answers.

However as she continued listening she shook her head in disbelief at the line of questioning. Vivian had read the reports and heard the previous interview recordings, opting to do so in order to know what to ask and what not to ask here today, yet for some reason her colleagues kept asking him the exact same questions over and over again, it was no surprise that Nicander was getting frustrated. Hell she was getting frustrated too and she wasn't the one being interviewed, how on Earth were they going to make any progress if they wasted time going round in circles asking questions they already had answers too?

The Chief Science Officer was brought out of her thoughts when Nicander addressed her directly and felt her heart skip a beat as she looked at him, knowing what they had done with that...thing inside of him made her skin crawl yet again, how she hadn't physically shuddered yet she didn't know but she'd take it as a good sign. At least the former CMO apologised for not telling her about it, although thinking about it you didn't have to be a genius to figure out what would have happened if he had, at the very least locked in the brig, at the worst killed and dissected. She didn't know what to say at first but luckily Nicander continued speaking, shifting his gaze away from her onto the others. 

However given what he had just said to her in his apology to then have the audacity to talk about being held accountable for their actions and what made him different triggered something in her that made her snap.

"How much control did you have?" she found herself asking. "You said that you believed you could control it, that you did control it for a while. How well could you? Vivian added before moving on to address the last thing he had said, about other officers under alien influence next.

"Most officers under an alien influence are under that influence until it is broken and they are freed from it, they usually don't get a reprieve from the control once the Alien takes it from them until the end, but you..." she said [color=DarkCyan}"...You did get a reprieve. You just said it yourself, you believed you could control it...did control it in fact, at least for a while and yet instead of revealing the truth when you had the chance, which would have been the right thing to do, you kept quiet despite knowing the threat that thing inside you is. By your own admission just now, you were of sound mind when we met, and yet you kept quiet about the threat you potentially posed not just to the ship but to me personally, control or not. Which by the way, you clearly had less of than you thought."[/color] she added, taking a moment to pause and take a breath, her anger rising as her hands balled into fists at her side, her eyebrows narrowing into a glare as she looked at him.

"You willingly made the choice to keep quiet and more when we met, despite knowing the potential threat you were to my life..." she continued, not wanting to reveal in detail what had transpired between them, even though it was probably obvious given how she was speaking, but she knew what she meant and Nicander did too, that was all that mattered for now. "...And you have the audacity to stand there and ask what makes you different? she snarled. ""That is what makes you different from them, in fact it's what makes you worse as far as I'm concerned. Tell me, how badly did that thing inside you want to kill me when we met? How close did it come to taking over and doing just that? she growled and asked before taking a breath and shaking her head. "You know what? It doesn't matter. It's in the past and frankly I don't think I want to know and as for your apology...if our roles were reversed and I was the one in your place and you in mine and you'd found out what I was and how close you'd potentially come to being dead, would you honestly forgive me?

Vivian phrased it as a question but it was also clearly a statement that she was not going to accept it, how could she? The man knew the threat he potentially was and didn't tell anybody when he could, didn't tell her, just fucked her instead.

Shaking her head again and taking a shaky breath, she eventually looked back at him, feeling her professional side taking over. "As for your enquiry on the progress of our research into the transphasic light of the Radiant on board, it's progressing." she told him, her voice now calm and back to normal. "However we have made little progress so far, even with the research you had already provided." Vivian added, although she would not mention that it also partially had to do with the fact they had only just started on said research what with everything else going on lately that they had had to deal with, something that she had made sure to tell Vael to keep quiet about too.

"Is there anything else not in the notes you already provided that could help? Anything you may not have considered at the time you wrote them that you have now?" she asked, keeping her question to just that for now, especially since Vael had asked a few good questions of his own. 

Re: Day 05 [1707 hrs.] Scrying through the Storm Front

Reply #13 – July 27, 2019, 09:58:04 AM

[ Doctor Lucan cin Nicander | Security Center | Deck 07 | USS Theurgy ]
^{Attn: @TWilkins @Top Hat @fiendfall @Kinvarus @steelphoenix}
[Show/Hide]

Hearing Vivian answer him, she cast Lucan's shortcomings into garish light. With every word spoken, she scorched his apology and attacked him over his mistake of not revealing the truth about his own nature as soon as possible, and specifically in regard to the intimate development between them. He felt his face drawn in anguish, and he had to look away from her accusatory stare.

Had the roles been reversed, he did not know what he would have done. He supposed she had no idea what it had been like, being under the influence of the alien inside him. He'd led a double life in entrapment, and after Starbase 84, by choice. His choice may not have been the right thing in regard to their trust in him now, but his choice had allowed him to make great progress in finding a means to defeat the enemy. If Heather MacMillan hadn't gone on the away mission to the Coreless Moon, and then been abducted by the Savi, he might even had found a way to cure himself - to rinse his being from the dark presence inside.

Vivian bespoke the research, and it was a welcome shift in conversation. It allowed him to recover somewhat from the lashing he'd received over his fear for what would happen once the truth became known. Now he knew, and so far, his fears had been confirmed. They cast his means to aid aside, crucified him over his double nature and the belief that he could provide better aid to the mission if outside a Brig cell and off a surgical table. She spoke of the research, so he gave them the insight he'd gleaned from thinking in his cell, and using the holo gurney's disconnected LCARS interface to make calculations. Those calculations had been taken from him when moved to the current cell, but they had no merit on their own.

"Yes," he said, and put his mismatched hands on his hips, speaking after taking a short breath. "I have been considering the nature of light, even though I am no scientist in that field. Still, I would believe that regardless if he transphasic light would have its own phase variance, it still ought to behave like light does. It's a theory, but if that's true, then there should be ways in which to augment the Heather McMillan's light. For clearly, when she came to the brig after we escaped the Borg, the thing inside me was still affected by her attempt to rid me of the parasite. It was in agony, screeching. In panic. The light was just not potent enough. Surely there are ways in which her light can be emphasised? I have been considering mirrors, lenses and optronics, and I hope that - diminished as her abilities have been - perhaps Heather's light can be strengthened. The unknown variable is the transphasic nature of her light, and which challenges that would pose on some kind of magnifying rig."
 
Lucan fell silent for a moment, and looked up at Vivian. "I was afraid... and I made a mistake. I feared that I would be bereft of the unique opportunity to further this research, knowing that as soon as the truth would become known, I would end up here, and even worse - given the nature and gravity of the threat to the Federation - I would be dissected or experimented upon like a lab rat. All the research you are working with now would have been forfeit. None of the progress I made would be available. I cannot make up for this mistake in regard to your trust in me, but perhaps you can see the merit in how far I came whilst unhindered and free."

He sighed, and shook his head, looking towards the deck. His access to Thea was his only way to defend himself, now that they were about to put him to trial. They had no right to ask him to use the farsight, since it posed a threat to his own sanity as much as their own lives. Whatever hope he'd held for them seeing his actions in a forgiving light... he was loosing it. "I could control it. I did. Whatever the thing inside wanted me to do, it never compelled me to act on it after Heather inadvertently treated me for my condition. It was just a whisper in the back of my mind. I... don't believe you were in any real danger. If I did... I would not have let things go as far as they did. Now, while my body is intact, and I don't stare into the abyss... I am myself."

Lucan looked up at her, his pale grey eyes drawn. "I am." He then looked towards the others. "Please don't kill me out of fear for what's inside me.... and don't ask me to loose myself again. I can help you. By the winds, don't let yourselves be blinded by the threat I might pose. Don't loose the values in which you swore to serve the Federation. Help me... or at least let me help you."

Re: Day 05 [1707 hrs.] Scrying through the Storm Front

Reply #14 – July 27, 2019, 11:13:58 AM

[ Cmdr Ranaan Ducote | Security Centre | Deck 07 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Auctor Lucan @fiendfall @Kinvarus @steelphoenix @TWilkins

This time, Ducote did sigh aloud, though it was at least a small one. Nicander wasn't interested in playing - which was fine, really. Instant acquiescence was rare, and rarer still in a case wherein the interviewee was so entirely sure of their intellectual and imperative superiority. But he had always been trained to be the water flowing around a recalcitrant stone - either you moved around the obstacle and got to where you were going eventually anyway, or you eroded the resistance down and still ended up getting to the mouth of the river.

The others took up the slack, while the erstwhile doctor continued to doom-say, and took the time to establish a response baseline for the ARA. Ducote's failure to do so was mostly born out of a lack of experience using such devices at all - there was good reason that lie detectors fell out of use centuries ago. Even with the advent of almost-perfect biomechanical detection methods, the most average person could be taught to fool such a test with time. Given how long Nicander had been lying to everyone around him, and the fact that his species were unreadable by a Betazoid's mental talents, meant that old fashioned questioning would have to do.

That didn't mean that a baseline was definitely useless, though. It was something he should have remembered. But that was also why this wasn't a one- or two-man show; several minds working at a problem would always reduce it. Slowly, Ducote paced to the other side of the forcefield, arms folded across his chest with his PADD hanging underneath one elbow, suspended between his thumb and a foreknuckle.

Vael not having read Ejek's report on Nicander was somewhat out of character for the detail-focused  Bactrican... though if he had been expecting that any relevant literature would be behind the Science partition rather than the Counselling one, he supposed it made sense. He made a mental note to offer to share a pot of gao shan later and see if there was anything he needed.

The story of Nicander's... assault, he supposed, was sobering. More so, with the aftermath - being trapped in one's own body with the mere illusion of choice, witnessing how your intentions were turned against you...

There but for the grace of God.

While he thought his way through that, Vivian skewered him with a sharp rebuttal of his perceived excuse making. Given the close nature of their prior relationship, he could hardly blame her. Nor did he disagree with her assessment of his actions, though his own perception was of course coloured by his knowledge that the man was infested before he'd ever spoken to him on his own merits.

Ducote was somewhat surprised to fully realise that Nicander wanted reassurance in a personal sense, rather than merely a professional one. Unless this was another subterfuge, of course, though that sort of tail-chasing would only get him so far.

"Mister Nicander, we're not going to kill you," he said, with an expression of distaste at the idea. "Not unless you give us cause - and being roundabout with your answers does not qualify. Wenn Cinn might have joked about cutting people open to find parasites, but he isn't here, and we're not him. I'm sure you have figured out by now that I want you to use your farsight. The safety of this crew is now my responsibility, and I need to know if there are any other hosts aboard." This time, he managed to avoid using the term 'infested' - with the given context, the term seemed reductive, othering.

"That is why I wanted to know if there was some trick to your getting to deck one during the battle. Between when I saw the power go out here on the MFD, and you stepping onto the bridge up there... it didn't seem very long at all. Not long enough to evade a Borg assimilation party, the plasma fires, and God alone knows how many hull breaches, all while crawling around the tubes on your hands and knees. If that parasite takes control, and uses some hypothetical escape route? What then? But of course, no such route exists, and we can move on to other questions."

The lsat sentence was toned to imply he'd take the doctor's word as given, but still in such a way to leave him room to change his answer if he so chose. The context around the original question might help, or it might simply cement his assertion of the truth. Either way, there were other questions that the little adhoc team needed to ask, and he couldn't in good conscience waste any more of their time with the same question again and again, despite his niggling hunch. No, he didn't trust Nicander (and had somehow less reason to after his testimony that the parasite could twist his words and actions almost without his knowledge, whether or not he was now 'in control'), but they still had a lot of ground to cover.

Ducote looked Nicander in the eye. "But after those questions, you can use your abilities, and tell me if this ship is safe."

---

ooc: reposted after jumping the gun before. Apologies, @Kinvarus!

Re: Day 05 [1707 hrs.] Scrying through the Storm Front

Reply #15 – July 31, 2019, 05:14:08 PM

[ Lieutenant Elro Kobol | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] @Auctor Lucan @fiendfall @steelphoenix @Kinvarus @Top Hat


Elro inwardly sighed, hand moving to tease the skin upon the side of his temple in a comfortingly nervous manner.

They were making neither progress nor placating their quarry. All in all, he could only describe the episode thus far as unsucessful.

Commander Hathev had attempted to put forward a thorough and logical series of questions to their Câroon, simple and efficient, if effort to help establish a baseline for the ARA based on what the team thus far knew to be true and false. When her approach elicited a mild rage, Vael had bombarded the man with a sweep of questions concerning the nature of the parasite and the circumstance of the initial meeting where Doctor Nicander had initially become infected. Vivian on the other hand had chosen to adopt a more accuseal tone as she criticised his responses, before appealing to what Elro had assumed was their pre-existent relationship for more information. And then Commander Ducote had taken them back to square one by returning to a line of questioning that they had already attempted from the start.

Their prisoner was evidently frustrated, to put it as mildly as possible, and honestly, the Betazoid couldn’t blame him. Even with a severe dampening on his ambient empathy, just in case the unknown parasite could tamper with such energy, the Doctor was beginning to discover the toll that the interrogation was taking on his psyche. Elro thoroughly believed that there was not a member of the group whom was not rippling with some hint of borderline frustration in whatever form it presented itself best for that individual. Nicander himself, on the other hand, had done very little aside from dodge questions and make solid and conscious efforts to not answer anything with an answer, but instead to pose questions back to them as if he were the interogator. It was like their prisoner viewed himself as superior to those whom were conducting their questioning upon him; that he was displeased with the rag-tag group before him. Apparently a third of the Senior Staff aboard the Theurgy was not yet enough for him.

The most trying thing from Elro’s perspective however, was simply that the ARA was yielding no data he could easily interpret. The man was constantly frustrated, stressed, angry, and all of those feelings were known to interfere with the results of such a test… But then, Elro realised as his dark eyes flicked across columns of maddeningly precise data, that Nicander would know as such. He was the former CMO of the vessel and he no doubt would be familiar with such a device, how it worked, and how best to disrupt its functioning. Either he was genuinely frustrated by the constant barrage of questions and accusations that, in his eyes, served little-to-no purpose, or he was deliberately attempting to be perverse in the face of honesty, to sow discord upon his psyche through a clever line of dialogue that prompted a certain type of aggression from the party on the other side of the force field to him.

“If I may, Mister Nicander.” Elro enquired, telepathically sending a litanous apology to Commander Ducote for cutting into his most recent comment, straightening himself and moving forward from his position he had been occupying at the rear of the group who had been conducting their investigation, the PADD with the ARA analysis temporarily down by his side as he prepared to do what he could to soothe the man, in the case that he was not deliberately trying to sow discord into the ARA’s results to make them unusable.

The Betazoid was somewhat apprehensive, being both the youngest and the lowest rank of the interrogation group doing no favour to his nerves. It had been his bold idea to use the ARA, which he believed was far more reliable than some of his colleagues seemed to give it stock, and had been his suggestion to lead Nicander on the roundabout circus that had delivered them not a shred of usable intel. Thus far the interrogation was a waste of time and he was conscious that it was his fault.

Perhaps somewhere subconsciously, he was also concerned that the former CMO before him might’ve been a trifle bitter to have been replaced by someone new to the vessel, several years his junior.

But regardless, the Betazoid had an effort to make at attempting to re-rail the interrogation in as ‘Betazoid’ a manner as he could muster.

“You may not remember clearly, given your state at the time, but we have met before, ever so briefly, when I first came aboard the ship.” Elro spoke softly, his silkily English accent lilting in a way that most tended to find easy to listen to. The Doctor made a conscious effort to not alter his facial expression as he grimmly sought to recall the circumstances in which he was addressing. “You were laying agonised against the deck of this ship, armless and writhing, in a slick of your own blood. Commander Ducote, Lieutenant Commander Kaeris and myself were all equally horrified at your circumstance, and I made no hesitation in informing Commander Cinn that keeping you from treatment was both illegal under Starfleet Regulations and equivilant to torture, no matter what crimes you may have committed.”

He was hoping that a small note of confidence might be enough to satisfy the man that nobody intended to kill him. Doing so would be such an utter breach of Starfleet Ethics that Elro would make no hesitation in using his medical authority to circumvent the idea. Perhaps, Elro hoped, hearing someone talk about those events might bring recollection about the time that he had uttered those words, would bring some clarity to the Câroon’s memory, and serve to reassure him of their intentions.

“Furthermore, following being accepted aboard this ship in an official capacity and being offered the opportunity of promotion to the role you formerly occupied, being given far more detail about your crimes and their repercussions, I still requested that Commander Stark investigate and discipline all crewmen responsible for such barbaric treatment.” Elro again, spoke honestly and freely, hoping that Nicander would understand that nobody was in any attempt trying to harm him.

Having set down what the Betazoid hoped were groundworks, Elro moved to his intention.

“Now, I apologise for the incessant level of questioning we have presented you with, but as you are surely aware, the ARA requires a baseline of calm in order to perform correctly, which we have been attempting to ply you into providing us.” Elro realised that he was perhaps disrupting the entire investigation, but in his head, each member of the party seemed to have a slightly different motive with their questions; and all Elro was intending was to get the ARA operating within required parameters. With that settled, the future of the investigation would be far more promising.

At this stage, it would be difficult to make their progress worse...

“You know how this device works, so, if I may kindly request that you take a moment to draw into yourself some calm. You have nothing to fear from us, and if you can bare our questions that you deem so unnecessary, and deliver efficient and unemotional answers, we will be able to move forwards far smoother than if we continue to disagree and quarrel akin to a rabble of bartering Telleraites.”

He sincerely hoped that the gentleman before him was mature enough to appreciate honesty.

"With that in mind, perhaps we can begin again, with a perspective born from clarity rather than doubt." The comment was purely to maintain professionality and placate their Câroon out of his fears of being targeted. Elro was hoping that with a more sterile, clinical approach, the man before them would find less reason to be hostile and perhaps even present a modicum of honesty.

Assuming of course, he understood the concept at all...

Re: Day 05 [1707 hrs.] Scrying through the Storm Front

Reply #16 – August 02, 2019, 03:36:25 PM

[ Doctor Lucan cin Nicander | Security Center | Deck 07 | USS Theurgy ]
^{Attn: @TWilkins @Top Hat @fiendfall @Kinvarus @steelphoenix}
[Show/Hide]

Being in the position he was, trapped by location as well as circumstance, Lucan listened to the First Officer give his assurance plainly, that none of the old intent to use invasive methods to find the parasites was there, Nicander still had a hard time believing it. Then again... this Commander Ducote of the Endeavour had not been on a ship that's been persecuted for five months through Federation space, so his opinion on the matter might actually be closer to that of the very Starfleet that Captain Ives tried to save...

It seemed his plea for mercy had gained attention - with his successor in sickbay giving the same reassurance - that it had somewhat reached the interrogators even though they still did not trust his word. Of course, if he was entirely self-critical, they might have due cause in terms of his hidden access to Thea, but at the same time... if they were lying, then that access was the only thing that might help him. Ducote raised a valid point, even though Kobol  insisted on using the toy he wore on his head even though they all knew - by then - that he was too familiar with such a device to lend them any aid. He would rather they wore ARAs and swore that they would not do what many aboard the ship wanted done to him. He knew better than try to argue for that, though for several reasons, one of them being that asking them to do it would confirm that he was hiding something from them.

An impasse. The wind had ceased to blow. Would he take the breath?

Lucan raised his tattooed hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. Ducote didn't know what they were asking of him, but that was beside the point. Kobol  held merit in how he'd restored his health enough for him to not have to rely on the parasite to keep him alive. That did grant him a modicum of confidence in their ethics. He wasn't sure what to make of the male scientist, but he could understand Vivian's sentiment. As for Hathev... professional and a Vulcan of clear and concise methodology. Should he take the leap of faith? He might, but he was not sure he was ready to use the farsight. If he was, then he had to protect their lives. He had enough blood on his hands, none of which he'd personally spilled. He just couldn't risk the repercussions, regardless what he chose when it came to their purpose of seeing him.

"My people of Envon have a saying," he sighed and looked to the deckhead, "it's not entirely translatable, but in Federation Standard, it is close to 'The wind shows us how close to the edge we really are."

And like that, he had yielded his defence against them. It was done. Thea would no longer respond to his personal voice commands. Bereft, he may have spared them, and he simply had to have faith that they were being honest with him. Without any pause, he continued, as if nothing of significance had been said. His eyes were wandering the present faces. "Then again, every wind is fare when we are flying from misfortune. It's the same way with trust. It must go both ways. Moreover, the saying is apt in how when a foul wind such as this darkness sweeps the land, fear might make anyone paranoid, and abandon any values they may once hold dear. This is why I must insist on protection from those who do not share your views on how I may be of use to the mission. I hope I can ask for that much, at least?"

Lucan stepped forward. "One final time. Are you listening? I have no means of escape from this cell. From any cell. And please, again, you can verify the path I had to climb during the battle at your leisure, or - as you ignored in your lack of trust - verify my foreknowledge of that path through Heather McMillan or Head Nurse Hylota Vojona. I had enough time to reach Deck 01, despite your lack of confidence in my athletic abilities. I may be a a mere Doctor, but do I look that unfit you you? Now, Doctor Kobol ..."

He reached up and removed the ARA from his head, plucking the things from himself. He smiled to the Betazoid Doctor, his pale grey eyes creasing at the corners. "Neither of you trust me, and you know how I already know how this device work. So even if you were to get any kind of readings on me, you would not rely on them in the slightest. It's an exercise in futility, and detracts you from why you are really here. You mean to use me to detect other Hosts. Commander Ducote has already said as much. I commend you, however, for standing up for my rights, and ensuring that my body was restored enough so that it didn't need the parasite to stay alive. I wouldn't have wanted anything less from a successor."

Truthfully, he had no hopes for his old position. He couldn't imagine how he'd make anyone trust him if not even Vivian Martin believed in him. No, better that the crew would have faith in the chain of command. Lucan looked back towards Ducote, his smile waning. "As for the farsight... You are aware that you're asking me to yield my body once more to the thing inside me, Commander, despite the cost to my sanity? How can I know that the thing's presence isn't strengthen if I stare into the abyss once more? How can you know? What if I slip closer to what I were before Heather MacMillan treated me? You are asking me to risk a lot, after having been lost for years."

The point made was plain. "You say you don't wish me harm, and yet you are ready to ask me this - unaware what it might do to me?" He looked towards the Vulcan, curious what her take on it would be. He was calmly holding the ARA headpieces in his hands, idly toying with them in thought. "Commander Hathev, is it? What is the logical answer to this predicament? Is it truly like that old saying of your people? Is there no middle ground? While my body may not be harmed, am I to accept my mind being a sacrificial lamb instead? I was ready to detonate that Omega Device, since then I may have redeemed myself, but this?"

He shook his head. "By the winds, going back to what I was... it's a fate far worse than death."

---

OOC: @fiendfall up next, followed by @steelphoenix and @Kinvarus , if that’s okay? Let me know if you want a revised order and I’ll arrange it over PM!

Re: Day 05 [1707 hrs.] Scrying through the Storm Front

Reply #17 – August 06, 2019, 05:31:22 PM

[ Lt Cmdr Hathev | Security Centre | Deck 07 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @TWilkins @Top Hat @Auctor Lucan @Kinvarus @steelphoenix

Had Hathev been of the kind to feel amusement, such a sensibility might have been piqued here. Emotional species were so quick to appeal to her logic: sometimes in earnest, as if such an exercise lay completely beyond their own capabilities; other times in the blind righteous conviction of their own correctness, assured her judgement would support their own beliefs and lend them credence. The disgraced former Chief Medical Officer seemed to belong to the second category, preening like a peacock in halls hallowed to his own intelligence.

Of course, the man was not entirely misplaced in his pride -- in its scope and intensity, perhaps, but in its existence it was at least somewhat justified. He was strikingly intelligent, and seemingly proficient in both dodging questions and turning them around on his interlocutor, doing so with an ease that belied his current circumstances. She had found it a challenge to gain any sort of psychological fix upon the man: it was difficult to properly gauge his mental state as the topic and tone of conversation switched course rapidly and unpredictably from speaker to speaker, sometimes in service of the interrogation, others seemingly entirely personally motivated.

It had been with interest that she noted this last seemed to induce more of a reaction in Mr Nicander than any previous approach. His response to Dr Martin was genuine; Hathev was confident in her judgement on this. She could not say with any certainty when Nicander might be lying, but emotional truth was difficult to emulate and she was coming to recognise such truth when he gave it. His frustration was true, although the motives behind it might not have been as he described; the remorseful intimacy with which he addressed Dr Martin was also true; and so too was the fearful undercurrent running through his words as he described his violation at the hands of the parasites, his powerlessness in the face of his new captors' judgement.

Once more Hathev recalled the recording of the previous interrogation an infested crewmember had undergone. There had been sentience in that individual, certainly, yet not conscience, civilisation, and no emotion, no honesty of experience or feeling, not as Nicander now exhibited. This was a crucial difference: the Ferengi were liars, Orions also, and yet if one understood their nature, their desires, then one was not blind to their deceptions. Thus she could now study and evaluate Nicander with confidence, and hope to reach an understanding of his needs and intentions, in broad strokes only and yet with more certainty than she could have expected before.

Nicander feared the power held over him, the threat of dissection; whether he did so for his own personal safety or whether because the parasite within him would prefer his internal workings kept secret, Hathev could not say. And yet regardless of the underlying motivation, that fear was real.

She had approved when she had heard Dr Elro Kobol  would be accompanying them, and though she had seen little cause to re-evaluate her judgement of his Automatic Response Analysis -- shortly to be rendered doubly impotent with Nicander’s removal of the device -- she was now reminded of her reasons for extending such approval to the doctor. He employed a curious yet effective blend of reasoning and emotional exhortation in an effort to placate his predecessor, maintaining his stance as ethical arbiter. She was glad to hear he did not intend to make real any of Nicander’s fears, although whether the same could be said of their companions Hathev could not be certain. Dr Martin was personally and emotionally compromised, the scientist Vael might be inclined to favour discovery over ethics, and Mr Ducote’s unfailing practicality could compel him to actions inadvisable.

She was not fool enough to make a promise in such an unpredictable matter. Circumstances might one day necessitate Nicander’s subjection to unpleasant treatment -- if the man fell back beneath the control of whatever it was coiled within him, for example. However the situation being as it was, she would not allow for any ethical wrongdoings or sentient rights violations to occur while she had the ability to prevent them.

Which led her to the question the deposed doctor had posed to her. He had appealed to her logic: a curious move, considering pure logic would state that the needs of the many outweighed those of the few. Regarding the matter with dispassionate reason alone, she might reach the conclusion that any risks to Nicander’s mental state were an acceptable price to pay for more information on the enemy. She might judge that even should he become compromised and return to his earlier state as little more than a puppet, considering the fact that this puppet was securely contained the risk to the Theurgy would be negligible, especially when contrasted with the benefits of potentially identifying any others afflicted in the same manner and thus posing critical dangers themselves.

Unadulterated logic would judge the potential gains in safety and strategic understanding as outweighing the risks to Nicander’s sanity and personhood.

However despite common belief that Vulcans were ruled by logic alone, that was something of a falsehood, a misunderstanding. For logic must always be informed by and tempered with morality. It was a moral imperative, not a logical one, that no sentient creatures be harmed for sustenance or enjoyment. In many ways it was morality that spurred Vulcans to join Starfleet, where logic might recommend the safety and seclusion of a peaceful home. Logic alone could too easily be used as justification for atrocity; without proper control within moral constraints, logic could very well become as dangerous as emotion.

And thus despite his request it was morality that Hathev would turn to in her reply to the former Chief Medical Officer.

‘I cannot speak for my colleagues,’ she began, circumspect, ‘nor can I claim complete understanding of the procedure of which you speak. I would be interested to discuss it and its effects upon you further, if you would be willing.' Corroboration of the risks Nicander believed to be inherent in this course of action was necessitated, and yet she would not request it take place at this juncture. There had been enough time spent travelling in circles today already; now progress seemed finally to be made she would not compromise it with minutiae. Thus she considered it prudent to continue as if such corroboration had already been reached. If later discoveries allowed them to return to this subject with new understanding she would be among the first to do so; for now she deemed forward progress more valuable.

'If the effects this course of action would cause you to experience are truly as you describe,' she continued, 'then I cannot condone the pursuit of such an endeavour. It is my oath to do no harm, physical or mental, nor to suffer any to be done; but then, you knew this when you asked this question of me.’ She regarded him lightly, an acknowledgement of their shared intellect and the game in which they were both engaged, as tactical and delicate as any match of Kal-toh.

It would make a fascinating study, to investigate the long-term effects on the psyche of living without control in one's own body, sharing a mind with a creature seemingly so devoid of any markers of compassion and imbued with the compulsion to seek chaos and destruction. She wondered how much of Dr Lucan Nicander had survived his ordeal, even as she met his eyes now.

If this was to be a game, she would offer a gambit of sorts. ‘Perhaps you may offer some alternative,’ she said. ‘You must understand you represent a unique and crucial opportunity to further study, comprehend, and perhaps even unmask the threat we face; it would be remiss of us all not to make use of this chance as it is afforded us. However your humane treatment does not rely upon the utilisation of this opportunity to its fullest; we are Starfleet officers yet.’

Re: Day 05 [1707 hrs.] Scrying through the Storm Front

Reply #18 – August 07, 2019, 01:50:57 AM

[ Lt. Cmdr Vael Kaeris | Security Centre | Deck 07 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Auctor Lucan 

@fiendfall  @Kinvarus  @Top Hat  @TWilkins

Vael took a quiet breath, watching the grievances and assurances passed around, bantered about as if this were a parlay of equal footing, but he remained quiet and respectful, only giving a nod of acceptance as his own inquiries were addressed.  Perhaps this had been a mistake -- two many disparate voices with too many agendas at seeming cross purpose to one another when in truth, they all had the same ultimate goal.

The CSO's outburst and tone told him far more than any personnel report or staff meeting might.  There was an unhealthy undercurrent among the members of this crew, but he supposed it was no less than he might expect given the recent history.  And still he was determined to secure the answers he required.  Dissection aside.  If these parasites were, as they had been described, transphasic, the most they would be able to discern would be the stresses placed on the body and such things could be readily discerned without such hands-on means.  And yet, as he proceeded to remove the ARA, it was clear that despite his protests, the one called Lucan Nicander saw himself very much in charge of the situation.

He turned his gaze to the Vulcan counselor at his side as she made her own observations known, stating the uncertainty of her knowledge to which the rest of the interrogators might seemingly adhere to the more sacrosanct ethical premises of Starfleet.  Had he been any less than himself, he might find some insult in so dry a statement.  But it was no more than he could ascribe to those of whom he'd yet to assess the moral characters.  At least there were two in whom he felt confident.  He did find it curious that she would so readily risk the loss of a subject absent precaution or back-up. 

Turning his nigh-obsidian gaze towards the prisoner once more, he moved forward.  "Doctor," he said, insisting on attributing the title that the man had earned regardless of the transgressions that seemingly followed, "you speak of the spectral emissions of the Radiant, Heather McMillan, and how they have altered since her return.  Following your initial exposures, I trust you attempted to replicate such by artificial means?  I trust such experiments were unsuccessful, which would lead me to believe that light alone is inadequate, and that there is, perhaps, a secondary element unique to the Radiant species necessary to the expulsion of these parasites?  And I say 'expulsion' or would your experience lead to the conclusion of 'termination'?"

His tone remained as antiseptic as ever, though perhaps the turn towards a topic to which Nicander himself seemed so affixed might offer some sense of relief.  "In your estimates, do you believe it is merely the intensity of her current production levels that is insufficient or could there be some other element missing now?"  He tilted his head slightly, to give the impression that he might be leveling his gaze over the bridge of a set of glasses that he did not wear.  "I ask because as the only known host on board, we clearly have no way of measuring the... feel... of the experiment.  Merely the results.  In that regard, doctor, you would be the gourmand, and we need to know if there is enough salt, or if there is some other seasoning absent."

With a slight flicker of his gaze to the commander, he added, "And please, doctor, under ideal circumstances, were we to be sitting at a table amicably speaking of this situation from an outside perspective, what is it you would want us to know that you feel we currently do not?"  It was an invitation.  If Nicander was so opposed to answering their questions with some modicum of understanding, then perhaps a turn of the table would put him more at ease.  For its part, the ARA would provide no further insights, but rather than risk the loss of the subject to some dark hole from which he might not emerge absent more intrusive elements, Vael thought it reasonable to give him the opportunity to speak his mind and offer what insights he thought important. 

Re: Day 05 [1707 hrs.] Scrying through the Storm Front

Reply #19 – August 08, 2019, 02:23:02 PM

Lt. Cmdr Vivian Martin |  Security Centre | Deck 07 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy  ]  Attn: @TWilkins @fiendfall @Top Hat @Auctor Lucan @steelphoenix
[Show/Hide]

Vivian listened to Nicander as he explained himself, and while she tried to see it from his perspective that had he revealed himself to her that it might have ended his opportunity to help rid himself of the parasite within, but that still didn't change the fact that she had potentially put her life and risk, nor had he even apologised for it, instead justifying it, it made her feel equally sick and wanting to toss him out the nearest airlock, regardless of the research that he had started or what he might provide.

Glaring at him for a few moments, she eventually shook her head. "My trust? It's not just about my trust. You had that thing inside you, you wasn't 100% sure you could control it and you willing put my life at risk that night. The least you could do is apologise for that and not some half-assed making up for that "mistake" that you gave, which certainly doesn't count. Hell in fact it wasn't an apology at all but a justification!" she said, the anger clear in her voice despite the fact she wasn't yelling, her tone was clear.

Pausing she took a breath to calm herself. "Is that how you view things? That the ends justify the means? That the potential risk to my life was nothing in comparison to the potential gained in the name of research and the advances you made?" she asked as she looked at him, her voice calm and devoid of all the anger, eerily so in fact to the point that it was as if a switch had been flipped that had shut off her emotions entirely as she looked at him, even going so far as to take a few steps closer towards his cell, her eyes meeting his as she spoke.

"That's certainly what it sounded like to me, in which case why shouldn't we dissect you? Hmm? Physically, biologically, scientifically we'd learn a lot from studying that thing inside you and how it interacts with the host body and we'd be able to trust the results and not just take your word that what you're telling us is the truth." she said, her tone still Vulcan like before she paused for a moment, letting her words sink in, knowing full well that she technically wasn't wrong in what she had said. The fact that that exact thing happening was the one thing he was afraid of was an added bonus.

"Of course that goes against everything I believe in and I would never be a part of something so inhumane or barbaric. I would never put someone else's life at risk for the sake of scientific advancement regardless of the potential benefits of doing so, that is the difference between you and I, Mr Nicander. Lucky for you huh?" she said, her voice still plain and calm as she spoke, taking a moment to look him in the eye before turning on her heel and returning to her previous position.

Having said all she wanted to in regards to her personal view and grievance with Nicander, she turned back to face him, alongside the others, switching to a more professional tone. "I have a few questions. Why do the parasites need hosts? Is it simply because they're parasites and require a host body to survive? Is it because they can do more physically within a host like us than they could by themselves? Or is it meerly as simple as the fact that it's easier to assume control over a group of people by being them and assuming their positions of power than it is to try and do so via war, as is evidenced by the situation we currently face?"

She asked before pausing "My next question is a relatively simple one: How are the parasites created? Are they a natural creation? Are they genetically engineered in a lab somewhere? Or are they created via sexual reproduction? In which case is that why they need hosts? To reproduce, mixing their DNA with the hosts to create more of them?  If their plan is to assume control by taking hosts then they clearly have to create more of them somehow and somewhere, perhaps there could be a way for us to prevent them from reproducing and limit their numbers?"

Re: Day 05 [1707 hrs.] Scrying through the Storm Front

Reply #20 – August 09, 2019, 05:11:18 PM

[ Doctor Lucan cin Nicander | Security Center | Deck 07 | USS Theurgy ]
^{Attn: @TWilkins @Top Hat @fiendfall @Kinvarus @steelphoenix}
[Show/Hide]

Of course the Vulcan would acquiesce the point of preserving his mental health, yet the question of Lucan's had been if she saw some kind of middle ground. Of course his question was somewhat skewed by her to be solely about self-preservation rather than willingness to discuss the prospects, but at that point - after suffering insult upon insult - perhaps he read too much into it. To her credit, she did wonder if he had an alternative to what they had come for. Of course he represented a 'unique and crucial opportunity' to further the mission. Was it his mood, or did it sound a bit hollow, however, when the Vulcan said that his humane treatment would not rely upon his willingness to cooperate. Perhaps it was true?

He was about to answer, saying that he had very little in terms of a counter-proposal, when Martin seized the incentive and the moment of silence to attack him for his earlier comments to her. She re-stated her accusations and threw his explanations back in his face. He thought he'd already apologised to her for what he'd done, but evidently she felt his remorse wasn't enough. She was even yelling at him, and he wondered if any apology would be sufficient. The ends certainly didn't justify the means. He'd made a mistake, but he'd also made a calculated decision to keep his own nature hidden for the sake of furthering the research on the enemy. He could understand her sentiment in that regard, and as biased as he might appear since it was about his own survival, he had made a difficult call. At least she wasn't yelling at him any more. Her hurt cut him in a deeper way than he'd thought.

Instead, she made a threat on his life, illustrating how much they might learn from dissecting him. It didn't do her any favours, Nicander thought, going so far in her argumentation, but it was just a scare she'd made, since she withdrew the argument on the basis of her never taking part in something so barbaric. She illustrated her point, however, with her line of reasoning, and turned that against him. She cleverly pointed out how he had put science before the risk of someone else's life. He wanted to argue that he'd not done it for science, but for the mission and the survival of innocent life in the Galaxy... but he didn't. She did not need another justification. She might even understand him, once her hurt subsided.

"I... don't believe I can make up for what I did, and any apology I might make wouldn't make a difference. For whatever little it may be worth... By the storms, I am sorry. I cannot change the direction of the winds that have passed, but I can adjust my sails to fly where you want me to." It was an apology made in Câroon fashion, bespeaking past centuries of kiteships that flew over Envon before more modern means of propulsion were invented.

This was when Vael spoke up, since Martin took a step back, and the scientist now raised quite poignant questions, which Lucan readily answered - the one that Hathev had posed soon to follow.

"I am a doctor, and not a optoelectronics engineer," he said with a small smile in response to the query about if he tried to emulate the lights of the Radiants - Heather's specifically. As much as Martin's accusations had stung, he tried to move on, because now the mission-important matters were discussed. "Still, I tried, but as I have stated in my research, the factor that I failed to emulate in my calculations was the transphasic quality of her light. I don't think it's that the light itself was inadequate as a component before the Savi corrupted Heather, or that there is a secondary element. Before her abduction by the Savi, the wavelength of her light extended past our current existence. We could only see the emissions present in our own phase variance, while the rest of it touches upon the phase variance in which the darkness abides. Unfortunately, after her abduction, and her alteration into the hybrid she is today, her light has lost too much of its potency. When she came to my temporary holding cell after the battle at the apertures, her light was unable to do more than agonise it. Despite how much she tried, It could not be driven out. So, her light must be augmented somehow, by whatever means you can find available."

Therein lay his hope of salvation. Freedom at last.

The open question about what they needed to know from him was quite welcome as well, and the male scientist from the Endeavour was truly showing merit in his reasoning. "Before the battle, I was hard pressed to warn you of the Borg and the design that the other Hosts had in mind, since I had just recovered from surgery. Then, after the darkness seized me and made me kill those three Security officers, no one but Izar Bila and Counselor Zeshryr would hear me. I managed to speak with one security guard named Kino - a trill - who promised to bring my words to Wenn Cinn before the battle, but I am unaware if she succeeded. Now, when the Borg is no more a threat, other matters are more pressing."

He took a deep breath, unaware how much they knew from Ejek at that point. Still, he explained it as he thought might aid the most. "This cycle is unique in how the Theurgy stopped the spread of the Niga virus, and the Borg never came through the apertures. It is unprecedented according to the knowledge I've gained from the darkness about the past cycles. At every turn in which Sonja Acreth was able to bring the seed child back to Niga in the past, and complete the paradox of seeding the planet again, the Theurgy either became a vector, or it didn't by escaping at an early stage in the outbreak, but the Borg always invaded. Today, here and now, is unprecedented. The abyss from which the parasites come knows just as little as we do about the outcome. This time, as opposed to all hundreds of thousands of cycles that have come before, we have a winning chance to do something new. We actually have a chance to both stop the loop of the paradox, and find a means to drive the darkness out of our dimension. Those should be our objectives now."

Frowning, Lucan thought of Acreth, and the fallout during the battle at Starbase 84. "As soon as Heather expelled the parasite from it's hold upon me, I tried to stop Acreth. Together with Heather, we gave chase in attempt prevent her from opening that temporal breach. Heather did not know the stakes involved, thinking that we were stopping Acreth from pulling something like the Calamity through the breach in Morali's Temporal Observatory Lab. I knew, however, what she would do, and that we had to stop Acreth from going through the breach, since she brought what would seed the Niga virus all over again. We failed, and Acreth has again begun a cycle following ours, unless we travel the same way... and try to stop it from happening. The problem is that as far as I am aware... it is a one-way journey."

After a bit of silence, Martin had new questions, which belayed Lucan's answer to Hathev about a potential compromise. Vivian was interested in the parasites themselves. Questions that Lucan had largely answered Ejek, which suggested that Martin hadn't gained access to Ejek's notes either. This earned Ducote another glance with raised eyebrows, but this time, Lucan bit down on his frustration and answered readily. "The blackness is the nexus of this crisis, an interstellar, gaping maw of atrophy, and it will consume everything. This blackness of the stars is an existence of primordial chaos, without order or thought. To it, we are all skin-puppets. Flesh it can wear. When infested, the Hosts give the blackness shape, voice and intent, a vestige of order, making it reshape what it sees through the Hosts... into what it want to consume. Like a law of nature. The presence inside me, it uses me to provide structure to its hunger, lending forethought to raw need. The parasitic presence in me is not an animal. It does not reproduce. Rather, in my understanding of what's possessed me, and what I have seen, I think the number of parasites are increasing with the nameless darkness' rising proximity to this existence in which we are."

A recent realisation, made from his solitude and means to think, undisturbed by duties.

"I've already told you how I found myself become a Host, and I would think that other Hosts must have arranged for it somehow, since selections appear to be with intent - to overtake positions of power or get close to people who wield influence. How the Hosts make the new victims transfer to this location I found myself, in this place that must have existed in some kind of flux, I do not know. I - as a Host - never partook in such an event. What I have seen suggests a slow increase of Hosts, which leads me to think that the increase by proximity to our plane of existence. Otherwise, the number of Hosts would be increasing exponentially, which from what I have seen isn't the case."

More Hosts to make new Hosts. If it was that simple, then they would be lost a long time ago.

"Perhaps the answers can be found if I use the farsight," he said, and looked towards the Vulcan, "to find a way for us to stop them from infesting new Hosts. Seeing through their eyes, I may see such a thing happening, and then I would know more. This is why I am wondering if there is some kind of compromise to be found. For sake of the mission. I do not, however, know how to retain my sanity. I cannot see how to compromise in this act, and avoid the cost upon me."

In all honesty, it frightened him - inviting the malign presence into him once more. How much more of him would be left if he did it again? He shook his head, frowning. "Four years of willingly hiding the madness inside, funnelling its intentions towards carefully laid plans, thinking it was in my own interest to aid the darkness - giving it structured thought. And now, being myself, my experience make me doubt my own actions, in lingering suspicion they are not of my own intent, even if they are." He looked up at Ducote. "I do not protest this incarceration. I should be here until it is completely gone... but I do not want to loose myself once more. Heather made a schism between me and the darkness, reduced it to a mere whisper... but I don't want to cross that gap again. For all I know, I might not come back again."

---

OOC: @Top Hat up next, followed by @TWilkins and @fiendfall , if that’s okay? Let me know over PM if you want a revised order or that I post with Nicander in-between and I’ll arrange it!

Re: Day 05 [1707 hrs.] Scrying through the Storm Front

Reply #21 – August 11, 2019, 08:46:58 PM

[ Cmdr Ranaan Ducote | Security Centre | Deck 07 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Auctor Lucan @fiendfall @Kinvarus @steelphoenix @TWilkins

Well, one thing was quite certain: Nicander had thoroughly derailed this interrogation, even if he hadn't assumed control of it. It was true that they were still guided (rather than constrained) by their ethical obligations, but that was also why the majority of the team here were newer additions to the ship's crew; they held no personal hurt feelings or intimate betrayals. However, the decision to include the relevant department heads did mean that there was a person present who had worked closely with the man before.

A problem which did indeed rear its ugly head.

Martin was angry. Arguably justifiable, but they were having enough problems making headway against Nicander's dissembling without outbursts. Ducote used his position closest to the forcefield to look back at her, his face blank, though out of sight of the incarcerated doctor. His eyes asked a silent question of her: Do I have to eject you? Vael could stand in for her quite happily, in his opinion - subjective though that assessment was due to the Bactrican's service on the Endeavour. If she couldn't contain herself, he would order her to leave. He'd rely on the more distant perspectives of the other officers.

It was mixed news from Nicander himself though, even as he opened up and started giving straight answers. There didn't seem to be an impending criticality event with regard to the number of hosts in the galaxy, at least, but the fact that their numbers were increasing at all allegedly implied that their respective planes of existence were growing closer. Ducote looked thoughtfully at the deck for a moment while he considered that.

Santa Maria. I never had a brain for metaphysics. And not for temporal shenanigans, either. The one time he wouldn't have minded a visit from the DTI, and there was no way they could have been trusted were they present.

However, critically, their source for driving the parasites away was now less than viable. They could hurt them, sort of, for now, but he could well image the technical headache ahead of the teams attempting to isolate and replicate the effect... He made a note on his PADD to speak to Ms McMillan about the possibility of finding others with her abilities.

"... Heather made a schism between me and the darkness, reduced it to a mere whisper... but I don't want to cross that gap again. For all I know, I might not come back again."

"My primary objective here is to ensure there are no other hosts aboard this ship," Ducote delivered, his responsibility to the whole necessarily taking precedence. If he could avoid the loss of the resource - and person - Nicander represented, then he would. But if it came to a choice between this man's sanity and the security of this ship and its mission... "Is it possible for you to be aware of them without using your farsight? Are the other hosts - those aboard the Archeron in particular - able to divine your position using the same method?" Or does its diminished control over you also mean a diminished presence in their consciousness? 

He'd made more difficult choices in the past, regarding people he'd known far better than this doctor. He was sensitive to the moral arguments in either direction. But he refused to let himself be led by the nose through them.

The very least he could do, if the situation came to pass, would be to look the man in the eye as he gave the order.

Re: Day 05 [1707 hrs.] Scrying through the Storm Front

Reply #22 – August 14, 2019, 03:10:03 PM

[ Lieutenant Elro Kobol  | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] @fiendfall @Auctor Lucan  @steelphoenix  @Kinvarus  @Top Hat 

Elro couldn’t help but feel a great deal of discomfort drag down upon his shoulders, the interrogation quickly transitioning from the unsuccessful, to something that was somehow worse. The Betazoid thought that his show of honesty and faith would be enough to sway the former Doctor, but evidently the man valued and enjoyed his subterfuge far too greatly to accept the extended olive branch and be even the slightest bit cooperative…

Then, as if to spit in his replacement’s face, Nicander offered a grotesquely framed smile as he removed the ARA devices from his head, protesting that the readings would be of no value to anyone if they did not plan to believe it regardless… In Elro’s eyes, it was only proof of the Câroon’s unquenchable desire to be entirely unhelpful, and perhaps clear indication that he had never possessed any intention to be truthful.

The man seemed to take great pleasure in discord...

Yet his complaints followed regarding his ability of apparent ‘farsight’ which allegedly had implications that could cause the parasite inside him to assume control of his body, even for the briefest of moments. Elro could see the distress in his face as he spat at the idea of using such an ability, and despite an obvious intention to redirect his emotions, Elro could tell clearly that Nicander was fearful of the act.

In an effort to gain the interrogation back on track, Vael returned to a more scientific viewpoint, before Vivian seemed to lose all semblance of professionality. She re-railed herself before she entirely disrupted the flow of their interrogation with a myre of personal debris, but the damage had been done regardless. Her questions were pointed enough that her personal dislike for the man before them would only have been misleading were a Tellarite to witness it.

And then Nicander continued to wobble about being helpful, only reiterating that he had already answered the questions he had been asked, accompanied by a string of hyperbole and strings of dialogue that was hardly necessary for their discussion. And then the topic returned to the farsight, and finally revealed his fear.

The following was a deeply uncomfortable situation for Elro, who suddenly had the overbearing need to go against the words of both his Superior Officer, and his friend.

“Apologies Commander, but I find myself in agreement with Commander Hathev.” Elro softly spoke, gently lilting his gaze to fall upon Ducote. “This ‘farsight’ seems to have the potential to cause harm upon Mr Nicander, and thus, I cannot condone this course of action. Both as a Doctor, and a member of Starfleet, this course breaches the code of ethics that I strive to live by.”

Of course, he knew that Ducote was headstrong enough that for his crew, he would gladly rebuke the sage council of a Vulcan and a Betazoid, even if it only offered the chance to save the life of someone under his Command.

“Whilst I will of course remain if this course of action is pursued, given that Mister Nicander may require medical attention if this parasite is allowed to gain control of his body, I would like my complaint of both the breach of protocol and the potential danger to myself, on record.” It wounded Elro to use such cold and clinical terminology when speaking to Ducote, but he had to abide by the oath he took as a Medical Officer. “And, of course, I will be forced to reference this in my logs.”

“I will also prepare a command to flood the cell with an anesthizine-axonol hybrid, in the event that this parasite is somehow less agreeable than the former Doctor, as a fail-safe if required.” Elro extended the addition to his plan telepathically to Commander Ducote, and Commander Hathev. The former out of a personal wish to show his friend that he still stood by him, even in an action that Elro believed to be an egregious disregard for Starfleet ethics. The latter, out of his wish for the other member of the party who was in agreement to be aware that he was prepared to take the necessary actions to facilitate their safety.

“My suggestion would coincide with Commander Hathev’s instead.” Elro now turned to Nicander once more. “Whilst this ‘farsight’ may be the only method for you to gain the information sought, if you can even conceive of any measures of safeguard that could be put into place beforehand, I’d request that you make your suggestions posthaste…”

Elro paused, reminding himself of one more thing.

“However, if we do find ourselves pursuing this course of action, whilst I cannot condone it, I would make a request that you re-apply the ARA to yourself.” Elro paused, lowering his eyes at the thought that the ethical course of action seemed to be falling like sand through his fingers. “If you must undertake such a discordant risk, we should use the oppertunity to gather as much data as feasibly possible, so that you may never be invited to do this again.”

It made Elro sick that he was even entertaining such an idea; putting even the slightest grain of pressure upon the Câroon to do such a task was an impossible breach of Starfleet Ethics. But if it proved to be the only option going forwards, Ducote had to make that choice and face either consequence.

“Apologies Commander." He couldn’t help but afford the man.

Elro didn’t envy the decision he would be facing.

Re: Day 05 [1707 hrs.] Scrying through the Storm Front

Reply #23 – August 20, 2019, 12:09:46 AM

[ Lt Cmdr Hathev | Security Centre | Deck 07 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @TWilkins @Top Hat @Auctor Lucan @Kinvarus @steelphoenix

Hathev resisted the urge to raise her fingers to her temples in an uncharacteristic desire to emote. This situation would have been intensely delicate no matter the manner in which they proceeded, and yet it seemed that their lack of unified focus, approach, and intent was causing a great deal of harm and actively hindering any progress that might have been made. Of course, Mr Nicander was being singularly stubborn and pedantic, and it was clear his personality more than anything was riling her fellows; yet this could have been overcome, had they united in the attempt. Instead, however, they were quarrelling like unruly children, each individual focusing on a piece of the puzzle before them and steadfastly refusing to step back to view the whole, or even to show their pieces to one another. She was surrounded by younglings ruled by pride and emotion, none of whom seemed willing to compromise their own personal beliefs and intentions in order to present a united front to the incarcerated doctor.

There had been a severe lack of preparation on all fronts, she concluded, and a worse lack of briefing. Yet such mistakes were irrelevant and dwelling upon them a waste of time, and thus she turned her attention to other things. She would bring up her observations and admonishments after the present matter was concluded. For now, she would attend to damage control.

To that end, she moved from her position to reach the side of Lieutenant Commander Martin, a woman who had unfortunately plummeted in her estimation after not one but two unruly outbursts. Nevertheless, in the interests of the unification they sorely needed, Hathev would not be so tactless as to follow in the woman’s stead and speak openly, and thus instead she moved close to the woman and spoke in low tones, acting in her capacity as Chief Counsellor.

‘Commander,’ she said smoothly. ‘If you are emotionally compromised you may remove yourself from the vicinity before I must compel you to myself; otherwise, you will conduct yourself as befitting a professional. I recommend seeking treatment for the trauma brought upon you, yet this is not the time. I would be glad to speak on the matter afterwards if you wish.’

She remained at the doctor’s side should she wish to respond, listening to the questions and answers from Lieutenant Vael and Mr Nicander. Truly she knew little of such topics, and thus she turned her attention not to the content but the context of the words, watching Nicander for any signs of malintent. She noticed that Nicander fell into a narrative description rather than an analytical one — a means of informing his audience (for it seemed that was what they had become), or of avoidance by obfuscation? She was inclined to judge the man as honest, at least in the part he was revealing, yet she could not be certain there was not more he kept to himself. He seemed to believe himself to be the most intelligent being in the room, which in itself revealed his true intellect as leagues behind.

Nevertheless, the glimpse into the psyche of one harbouring a child of the ‘nameless darkness’, as he so poetically described it, was informative. She wondered what vestiges of that darkness yet lingered without Nicander’s awareness of its presence, directing his thoughts either consciously or simply through an impression left on his mind’s structure after years of being manipulated and controlled. Victims of abuse could often unconsciously learn patterns of behaviour and thought from their abusers; the ancient human concept of Stockholm Syndrome, although misnamed, misunderstood, and thoroughly debunked long before modern psychology, nevertheless hit upon a unique emotional and psychological transference between individuals that occurs under extreme circumstances. Doubtless there would be some ‘darkness’ about the corners of Nicander’s mind, whether an active and alien intelligence or simply the shadow imprinted onto Nicander himself.

The practice of farsight, it seemed, would allow this darkness greater power over his mind in such a way that he might never return in his current capacity. Not being certain of the exact nature of Nicander’s current state, it was difficult for Hathev to properly evaluate the exact risk inherent in that course of action; and yet she would stand by her previous statement. She had been brought aboard the vessel the product of gross misconduct and crimes against the Federation; she would not allow any such a thing to occur once more if she had the power to stop it, and if those above her decided to proceed she would be forced to reconsider her opinion of them and her place aboard this vessel.

It seemed Lieutenant Kobol , at least, would not suffer such a re-evaluation. She met his eye calmly as he spoke, formally registering his advice and complaints on the record. That he sent her a telepathic message — in a manner both invasive and vulgar, as was the Betazoid way — was somewhat surprising to her. What response he expected to gain from her she could not be certain; yet she supposed if the Executive Officer was determined to follow this ill-advised and unethical path it would be better for Kobol  to be present and ready to deal with the potential consequences than for it to be left to the trigger-happy Security officers guarding the former Chief Medical Officer. Distasteful though it was that she even had to consider the best way to deal with such an illogical course of action, she could admit the reason in the doctor’s plan.

‘Have you no such compromises to suggest, Mr Nicander?’ she asked, keenly aware of the fact that, when presented the opportunity to avoid such a fate, Nicander had instead almost advocated for the use of farsight with his statement that he could use such a method to stop the parasites from infesting more individuals. ‘Can you not offer any other suggestion from your experience as a Host or your expertise as a doctor? Perhaps a method to mitigate the risks inherent in this action? An alternate method of detection?’

She included all the scientists and doctors in the room with a glance. 'Have none of you anything to recommend?'

If they did not, she would not be surprised to see Mr Ducote make a foolish decision born of hope and fear rather than logic and understanding. For even apart from the morality of the situation, the truth was that Nicander was far more valuable in this state of lucidity, no matter how frustrating or untrustworthy her compatriots found him, than he would be in the state the Host previously interrogated aboard the Theurgy had exhibited. Even if one believed every word Nicander uttered to be misdirection, the laws of probability dictated that he would eventually make a mistake and let something slip; whether such laws could be applied to the ‘nameless dark’, Hathev could not begin to fathom.

‘I believe I have made my opinion on the matter abundantly clear, Commander,’ she said, clipped. ‘As a former member of Starfleet, a sentient being, and a potential source of intel, Mr Nicander should not be subjected to a procedure that may destroy his mind. Nevertheless I am in agreement with Lieutenant Kobol ; I shall not abandon my duty here, so long as any have need of me.’

Her report, when it came, would be detailed.

Re: Day 05 [1707 hrs.] Scrying through the Storm Front

Reply #24 – August 20, 2019, 07:35:03 AM

[ Lt. Cmdr Vael Kaeris | Security Centre | Deck 07 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Auctor Lucan @fiendfall  @Kinvarus  @Top Hat  @TWilkins

Vael watched as the questions continued, but only for a brief moment.  Commander Martin's momentary outburst had taken a more directed point and had evoked a particularly curious line of thought that Vael himself was even now unraveling in the back of his mind.  Although he had some initial concerns about her stability in this moment, clearly she had managed to prod what he gauged as a certain unguarded sincerity out of the doctor, one that he, himself, worked to capitalize on. 

If hosts were necessary to create more hosts, then one cycled inevitably back to the paradox of origins... what he believed the humans referred to as the chicken and egg conundrum.  But while he'd not yet had the opportunity to review all the the recent mission files and, he was certain he had seen enough references to temporal anomalies and causal agency to make him question if there might not be some intentionally self-fulfilling prophecy involved in the propagation of this infection, at least as far the the theory of it went.

And to that end, he wondered if the radiance factor the doctor had posed might have an unforeseen chronal quality that he hadn't anticipated. 

And again the matter returned to this so called 'farsight'.  Everyone had to be aware, even without the doctor's constant protestation, that staring into the abyss invited it to stare back.  Even Elro and the counselor were on board, to the extent that they could be, ethical protests registered.  But what, perhaps, concerned him more was Lt. Commander Hathev rounding on the CSO, offering to remove her for her outburst if she could not control herself.

Were he now to intercede, he would be engaging in what he considered the most unseemly practice -- something Ducote and Elro would find familiar with their shared time on the Endeavour.  Recriminations, reprimands were things best addressed in private, and although his expression remained steadfastly unreadable, his thoughts were notably disapproving.  Clearing his throat slightly, he continued his line of questioning, clearly intending to carry through with with CSO's inquiries, his impassive tone simultaneously supportive and reprimanding at the same time.

"Doctor, have you considered that there may be a trans-temporal quality to these parasites and, as such, a trans-temporal strategy necessary to counteract them?  A chroniton wavelength, so to speak?"  It was a simple question and honestly, he was eager to see what emotion this might evoke.  Simultaneously, he realized that it was necessary to address the issue that seemed to linger in the air like an unseen weight.  "From our time here, I have already come up with several potential research vectors, as I am sure Commander Martin has as well."

"That said, I understand and recognize your concern in ... evoking this sight of yours, the potential risk to which it exposes you."  He focused his obsidian eyes on Commander Ducote and Dr. Kobol .  "I also understand the very real security risk that other unidentified hosts on the ship would pose.  I am certain, as a Starfleet officer, you are equally aware of such."  His gaze turned slowly towards Hathev as he continued, "And I would be loathe to lose a source of intelligence by engaging in such an act without proper precautions."  Finally, his gaze met the Vulcan's.  "To that end, it would be my expectation that Counselor Hathev would be versed in methodologies of directed imaging.  A low level guided hypnotherapy intended to safeguard you from the not-you.  Perhaps a mild and temporary neuro-paralytic to keep your body stationary?"

He returned his attention back to Nicander, inclining his head towards the ARA, "To that end, doctor, I would ask that you consider reapplying the ARA so that we can hopefully assess if such activities are stressful and if we are able to ensure that you remain in control." 

"If there are other hosts on board or within striking distance, it is unlikely that they would allow us to make any progress towards your restoration."  Help us help you.