Ghost in the Machine - CIC, Part One
Ghost in the Machine - CIC, Part One
Summary: The virus slips containment; fit hits the shan.
Date: PHD 099 (26 July, 2009)
Related Logs: Other 'Ghost in the Machine' Event logs for the above date

-[ CIC - Deck 2 ] — — [ CEC Kharon ]-
IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #99 OOC Time: Sun Jul 26 18:46:23 2009

Bathed in dark blue light, this warfighting nerve center is a room that might more closely resemble a cave but for the illuminated displays and activity, creating an effect that detracts from the claustrophobic feelings it could impose when fully lit. Situated with all the major displays at the front of the room, crew members sit at work stations facing that wall as if an audience to a performance. Liquid crystal screens track everything from DRADIS contacts to the fuel status of airborne Vipers and Raptors. Off to the side, smaller screens hang from the low ceiling that provide video footage of the Flight Deck and Hangar Bay One's Viper Tube airlock doors.
To the rear of the room is the primary plotting table - the only white-lit object in constant operation within the room. Its pale illumination is just bright enough to back-light the maps that are lain out on it. A separate DRADIS display is placed at the rear of the room to provide the Officer of the Watch with a view of the tactical situation no matter which way they are facing. A set of yellow-lit glass plots are stood vertically to the side of the room, allowing the historical view of anything that might be tracked via sensors.

-=[ Condition Level: 3 - All Clear ]=-

Persy Praxis
CIC Terminal 301
[WEP] Weapons [H] Hallway

Praxis has worked in this CIC for goodness knows how long. Ensuring the steady operation of this vessel in the CO's absence, watching the DRADIS for unknown baddies, and of course chatting it up with some of his favorite members of the bridge crew. All right, so he doesn't really 'chat it up' so much as ask them questions specifically pertaining to their stations, such as the status of the camera feeds, or when the CAP is due to land and refuel, or if that stupid virus is showing any signs of advancing beyond its little pen Persy has created for it. However, if there was one rule to working in the CIC, Praxis knew it was never to put a cup of coffee on the plotting table without a coaster. Scowling at the fact that there is a brown ring solidified under his mug, Demitros lifts it and shoves it aside, quickly looking for something to wipe up the tiny mess with.

Lt. JG Persephone Tanner sits at the ECM terminal, eyes scanning the readout, monitoring the ship's systems for abnormalities. As she does so, she sings a once-popular ditty under her breath. "Take me down to Caprica city where the grass is green and the girls are pretty… take, take me ho-a-wome…"

Ever attentive to the needs of her boss, Persy grabs a little packet (one of those pre-moistened wipes made for computer screens) and tosses it over. "Heads up, sir!" She tippity taps at her keyboard a bit, then blinks. "Our little viral friend looks like… it looks like it's shut itself down, almost, sir. No activity. Dormant."

Were Knight into morbid humor, he'd say something about the grass being dead and the girls green (with radiation) instead. Praxis snatches the wetnap out of the air and begins to open it, looking towards Persy and nodding his head. "Thank you, Lieutenant." he says with gratitude before he wipes up that mess on the plotting table, a bit of a smile creeping up his features before he wipes it off. "Understood, but I want you to keep one eye on it still. There is no fathomable reason I can currently think of to let it go just yet."

Frowning, Persy's fingers start flying on the keys. Her eyes scan. She blinks again. Types some more. "Actually. Actually… sir, this is /weird/. It's not dormant… it's /gone/."

The hatch opens and a small child dressed like a Marine comes scampering through. On second look, it IS a Marine. She's a little older than she looks at first glance. She skids to a stop, a touch breathless, as if she's run the whole ship to get here. Her feet take her to Praxis where her journey ends in a forehead-cracking salute.
The tatical officer places the used wet nap into one of his pockets before narrowing his eyes at the report of the Countermeasures officer. "Well, where did it go then?" Praxis asks with a bit of a worried tone in his voice, before turning to the marine that had just entered. "Corporal Jarot, this is the last place I expected you to be. How may I help you?" Demitros asks, of course subsequent to returning that forehead-cracking salute she was so kind enough to offer in his direction. This must be important.

CIC is, as always, reminiscent of a hornet's nest tonight. Like the flight deck, Kharon's nerve centre never really seems to sleep. The Commander is absent tonight however, having placed Lieutenant Demitros on duty as watch officer.

"That would be the question, sir," Persy mutters distractedly, all her attention on her terminal. "I'm checking all ship systems for the virus's fingerprint… if it hasn't mutated, we should pick it up pretty quickly." She breathes out. "I hate to say this, sir, but viruses don't just vanish like that. We didn't have a fix to kill it, yet."

Epi hesitates for just a moment. Whatever she has to say to Praxis, she -really- doesn't want to say. "Sir, we're missing some G-4 from the weapon's locker. Not a whole lot is missing, just enough to do some nasty damage to a good sized room. There's no signature on the forms and no one knows where it's gone."

Not only is he receiving some bad news, he receiving some bad news from two different people at once. Demitros looks towards Epi with slightly widened eyes at the news of the missing G-4, before snapping his neck to the ECM station as well. "You have to assume the worst, Lieutenant Tanner. You need to find out where it is and find out fast. We could be in trouble if it escaped containment." The watch officer turns to the security station. "I want security camera feeds on the arms locker brought up and reviewed immediately." And then a slight deviation to the communications officer. "Page Commander Sheridan and get him on the phone immediately, tell him we have a situation." Finally, after belting out those orders to the rest of the CIC crew, Knight lays his eyes on the childlike marine. "How long do you think the material has been missing for, Corporal?"

[Intercom] Praxis says, "Attention. Commander Sheridan, please call CIC. Commander Sheridan, call CIC immediately."

"It definitely slipped containment, sir. I don't know if my code wasn't up to snuff, or someone let it out, somehow. I mean, who but you and me'd have the chops?" Persy looks deeply worried but fixed on her task. "I'm still checking systems, sir. I can't find anything yet."

"Less than 24 hours, Lieutenant," Epi says quietly. "It was all there when Private Parts took stock last night around the same time." No, Epi's not shaking in her boots, yet. But she's not happy.

Acknowledging the report of the Marine, Praxis strolls over to the camera feeds and asks, "Have you found anything out of the ordinary yet?" Regardless of what kind of answer the person at the station gives, the TACCO grabs the attention of everyone who is working on the bridge. "As of this moment right now we're to assume that the virus has escaped containment. All personnel are urged to report any anomalies experienced at their station immediately." Epiphany is once again regarded by Lt. Demitros, hands folding behind his back. "Understood, Corporal. If you have any other information to give now is the time; if that is all you are dismissed. And thank you."

There's a guttering and sputtering of lights across the ship, and then a sudden *thunk* as everything's pitched into darkness. Five seconds, six, seven, eight.. after about ten, there's a thrum of power returning again, and lights flickering back on."

<Intercom> Attention! Set Condition Two throughout the ship.

Persy jolts as the power goes out. "Frak. ME." She sits stock still for a moment, as though completely impotent without her terminal… then breathes out in relief as the power returns. She swings back to the ECM screen. "Frakity frak fraking frak. Sir, I'm going to have to start this process from scratch…"

Epi jerks back to a salute, shaking her head. "No, no more information, Sir," she says quietly. "Going down to Security to report it there as well, Sir." There appears to be someone's kid sister in a Marine uniform in CIC. At least someone taught her how to salute. If her spine got any stiffer, it'd crack. She's just been dismissed and is about to leave. In fact, she's headed for the hatch at a head-long pace when the lights go out.

Sheridan storms — yes, storms — into CIC, still in the process of fastening the top few buttons on his uniform as he breaches the hatch. SOMEone just woke up. "Demitros, report!" is barked across the room at the hapless Lieutenant.

[Intercom] Sen says, "Available Damage Control personnel to Engineering. Fire. I repeat. Fire."

A salute is snapped right back at Epi, of course, but eyes won't linger after her for long as Demitros has his hands a little bit full right now. "This is not going to do us any good, Lieutenant Tanner. If the worse comes to worst, the system will just keep resetting itself and plating us back at square one. We need to find another way. Perhaps hardware-oriented." Then Sheridan enters. Not really much of a savior, more like trying to face your dad after you ran his car into a lamppost. "Sir! The virus has suddenly escaped containment and is currently affecting systems. Corporal Epiphany Jarot has just reported missing G-4 from the storage locker, and now, apparently fires have broken out in Engineering." Way to state the obvious. Coffee stains are now the least of all of their worries.

"I can still find it. I'm sure I can. If I can just find it and get ahead of it…" Persy mutters. She's barely paying attention to anything else in the CIC.

Sheridan gives the hem of his uniform a sharp tug, and scales the few steps to the illuminated planning table. Someone's coffee mug is shoved aside, and he untucks a pair of glasses from one pocket and slides them on. "Tanner," he growls at Persy, "I want you to find that godsdamned virus. Demitros, assemble a marine fireteam to find those frakking explosives, and get on the line with the CAG. Make sure he's apprised of the situation. I want the CAP on close alert."

Well, at least now his watch duties are over. Praxis is quick on his feet, immediately heading over to the phone before carrying out his intended task. Soon Demitros' voice will be booming over the intercom…

[Intercom] Praxis says, "Now hear this: Marine fireteam, please report to Lieutenant Demitros at CIC at once. I say again, marine team to CIC immediately."

"Sir," Persy turns to address Sheridan, "since our systems aren't networked, I can't find the virus unless it's in the CIC. It doesn't see to be. It's probably in fire suppression and power supply — for starters — from what we've experienced. I can network the systems from here so I can monitor — and hopefully locate — the infections from one location, or I can try to physically chase the virus, going to engineering to check their systems and so forth."

Nostrils flared, the Commander cuts his eyes from the planning table, currently being stacked with reports coming in from a petty officer, to Persy when she starts speaking. He stares at her for a full twenty seconds, teeth gritted together firmly, before giving a single nod. "Do it."

Praxis is still talking with the CAG on the phone, briefly glancing over to the commander and the ECM station when they mention they're going to network the systems. However, if he trusts anyone to perform; it's Persy. A nod of encouragement is there, if she even catches it.

Persy turns quickly back to her terminal. "Beginning to build the network, sir."

Praxis looks up from the phone and promptly reports, "Sir, Captain Marek is standing by and ready to launch alert fighters. His pilots are ready to go when they're required."

Sheridan nods curtly to Persy, then turns back to the reports being dropped in front of him. He starts sorting through them diligently, glasses shoved up on his nose when they start to slide down. "Thank you, Demitros. What's the situation in Engineering?"

Persy's fingers fly over the keyboard, her brow furrowed in concentration. Is that a little sweat beading on her brow? Her shoulders are visibly tense.

Praxis picks up the receiver again, this time looking to get a report from another section of the ship. Words are murmured into the handset, eyes scanning around the CIC while he does this, especially up on the DRADIS to see if anyone has taken advantage of their little situation. The man's demeanor is chillingly calm, although this doesn't make him any less active. Once he gets the reply, he places a hand on the receiver. "Commander, we've lost contact with Engineering."

Sheridan slams his palms flat on the planning table, jostling some of the crap people have piled onto it. He cuts his eyes toward Demitros, and looks for all the world there like he's judging how wide he'd have to open his mouth, to bite the man's head off. "Get down there and get me a status report. And where is my godsdamned fireteam?" Poor Praxis.

And back into CIC comes Epi. She's moving fast, but not running. There's no skidding, no squeaking. She comes up near to Sheridan, hand going to her forehead.

"We've got a network up and running," Persy announces, smiling a little shakily. Stress much?

Then… DRADIS starts to beep and bleep. Not with contacts, but as though it's been reset.

Persy looks over her shoulder, checks her terminal, then looks over her shoulder again with a deep wince. "Frak. That was me. It should be back online in a few."

The lights flicker again. Off, on. Off, on. There's a BANG heard in more than a few corridors then as circuit breakers are tripped and power goes out entirely. The ship's not only plunged into darkness, but gives a creak and a groan as its engines spin down and stall; Kharon is literally dead in the water.

Yeah, poor Praxis. He has way too many things to do and he's drawing the hostility of the Kharon Commander. Bypassing everything and everyone, the tactical officer hangs up the receiver, acknowledges Sheridan's order and begins to run towards the hallway, certain to dodge Epi and not run into her (read: bowl her over). "I will return soon, Commander." the Lieutenant calls from the hallway, hoping that he'll be able to be a bearer of -some- good news. Maybe he'll gather up that fireteam along the way. Of course, when he's in the hallway the lights go out, and Demitros is wandering through darkened corridors….

Pike makes her way into CIC after Epi, medical kit slung over her shoulder, looking around for any one in need of medical attention. And then the lights go out. She bites back the urge to curse and makes for the side of the bulkhead so as not to be anyone's way.

"Oh, Lords of Kobol, frack me…" blasphemes Persy, her voice small in the dark. "Commander, sir, I can lend a hand in engineering to try and get the power back up. I'm a fair hand with repairs. And… without a terminal, there's not much else I can do."

Sheridan watches Praxis' retreating back for a moment, then lifts his head to a ceiling-mounted console just as the power starts to sputter again. "Major," he greets Pike gruffly. "Accompany Demitros to Engineering. We may have casualties." Epi gets a nod, and he starts to speak— when the power cuts out completely, and the ship literally grinds to a halt. He has to grab the edge of the table to keep from pitching into it. "Report, Corporal. Tanner, get that backup generator up and running." The one in a closet beside the comms terminal, that can power most of CIC in case of an emergency, that is.

"Corporal Jarot reporting with fire team, Sir," she tells Sheridan quietly. "Didn't think you wanted three other armed Marines in here, Sir. Permission to search for the missing explosives, Sir? With everything else going on, Sir, I don't think it's smart to postpone that search." Pause. "Sir." Poor Epi.

Hearing orders from the CIC, Praxis waits in the shadows for the Major to appear, the intention to stay close through the shadows so one of them doesn't accidentally wander down an open stairwell, or something. Eyes wander to the bulkhead at the dead, creaking ship before they proceed. Well, at least that fireteam had arrived. It's too bad the TACCO can't deal with that now.

"Aye, sir," Persy responds at once, feeling her way carefully from her station to the generator closet. Breaking a leg right now would be bad.

Sheridan kind of stares at Epi for a few seconds, like she might've grown an extra appendage or three. Of course, it's hard to discern in the almost pitch black. "Permission granted, Corporal. And you can inform the MaA that I want a word with him after those missing explosives have been found." And then he shoulders his way past, to go help Persy with that backup generator. Hey, sometimes even the CO has to get his hands dirty.

Sgt Nikos catches up to the fire team shortly after, having been caught back by the Sec Hub when they were dispatched. She hits the door just as Sheridan moves out. She steps out of the way smoothly, and moves up to Epi and her backup sing—er beefy companions. "Corporal. Did I hear scavenger hunt?" Word moves quickly in the blackened corridors.

Yeah, there's a thought bubble over Epi's head of "Ohshitohshitohshit" as Sheridan talks to her. "Yes, Sir," she says quietly. "Right away, Sir." She turns to go and catches Salazar, nodding. "Gotta go find some G-4 that went missing. It's enough to take out a small room - and make a damned mess. It disappeared from Weapons One sometime in the last 24 hours. It was there when Parts did the inventory last night."

There's some clanking from the generator closet. And some banging. Some more clanking. A little grunting, even. "Got the panel open…" Persy reports. "Okay… doesn't look like it's TOO frakked up in there. I think I can get it back online in ten. Maybe less."

Sheridan gets down on his knees, and 'helps' by holding the panel open while Persy does her thing. There's a grunted suggestion from the Commander now and then, but otherwise, he lets the countermeasures officer work. Nothing like having your CO breathing down your neck. Literally. "The quicker we get this thing online, the quicker we'll know whether we've got company out there," he notes, unnecessarily.

"… G-4 went missing." Salazar's tone is flat. She nods to the much smaller marine, and then nods to the hatch. "Smells like a scavenger hunt. He who explodes loses. Lead the way. I'm new to this ship."

"Yessir," Persy agrees with Sheridan, rerouting wires, as fast as her little fingers can. "Can you move that flashlight a little to the left?"

Sheridan complies, verily, with a little nudge of the flashlight in his hand. If he could make the beam brighter, he likely would. But they're stuck with its sickly pale glow, which only barely illuminates the bank of wires and switches in the generator closet. And.. there it is, the source of the burning smell— a cluster of wires that fizzled when the power cut out.

Epi dips her head to Salazar. "Scavenger hunt," she affirms, sliding out the door before Sheridan can catch her again. She moves decently in the dark, slowly, using what little light's available.

Salazar taps Epi on the shoulder with a black maglite type design flashlight. It's pretty hefty, but smallish. "Don't lose that. Saved my life more than once." She has all kinds of neat survival toys from the surface. Should see the knife collection. "I can see over your shoulder anyway." She makes her way out on the other woman's heels. Wonder twin powers activate!

"Smells kinda like bacon, doesn't it?" Persy remarks, yanking out the offending wires. "Now it's just a matter of repurposing some of the other ones…"

Sheridan and Persy are huddled by the closet housing CIC's backup generator, the CO with a flashlight in his hand as he tries to assist the countermeasures officer. It's dark in here like everywhere else, and strangely.. quiet. Tactical officers without their terminals are like fish out of water.

Steele steps into the CIC at a jog, a handlight making an erratic dot of light move in front of him to guide his way. "What do we know?"

SNAP! Spark! Persy YELPS and snatches her hand back from the panel. "Okay…" she pants, nursing her fingers in her mouth. "That coud hab been worz… Ad leeds now I know for sure where duh wirez go."

Shaking out her hand, Persy resumes her work, muttering under her breath. "Well, that's ONE way to find the live connection…"

Sheridan turns sharply as the MaA's voice echoes across CIC, and barks at the man, "Get to the sec hub and pull any and all tapes of camera feeds, Gunny. And I want a word with you, once we find those explosives. GO." He turns back to Persy, and shines the flashlight on the wires she'd just pulled. And grins fleetingly. "Knowing's half the battle, I'd wager. Come on, get this thing running, Lieutenant."

Steele nods to Sheridan, "Aye, sir." Heturns on his heel, having just left the Hub and jogs back out of the CIC and down the corridor, the white bouncing in front of him as he moves.

"Yes, sir," Persy nods as she (far more carefully) rewires the generator. "Sort of starting from scratch here, but it should just take a few minutes more."

Praxis, running back into CIC, it is a wonder how he didn't run into anything on his way back. The man seems a little bit out of breath at the moment, but has enough composure upon his entry to make his engineering report. "Sir." he says, even though he hasn't quite located Sheridan yet, that part can come later. "Electrical fire contained in corridor Juliet November Seven. Two casualties, no fatalities. Engineering team is enroute to backup generators. No damage assessment yet." Not exactly good news.

Sheridan is crouched on the floor by the backup generator closet, shining a flashlight on the network of wires and switches that comprise the beast while Persy makes her best attempts at getting the fried piece of equipment running again. He looks up as the revolving door of CIC revolves again, and nods curtly to the TACCO. "Thank you, Lieutenant. As soon as the generator's up, I want you watching that DRADIS console. Do we have an ETA on getting main power back, from Engineering?"

Persy sings under her breath, "And the blue wire's connected to the — white wire… and the white wire's connected to the — yellow wire." She secures a few more connections. "Come on, baby, power up for mama…"

Our intrepid, fearless hero once again acknowledges and answers Sheridan when his unmistakable voice is fired off in his direction. "Yes, sir." he replies to the order about watching the DRADIS. At least that part is easy. "No, sir." he replies to the part about the ETA. "I would imagine they are working as quickly as they can, sir…" Heading to the assigned station, Demitros plops down in the seat and trains his eyes on the inactive monitor.

Sheridan scowls slightly at the answer from Praxis, though his irritation doesn't seem directed specifically toward the man. He goes back to holding that flashlight. Yeah. This is why they pay him the big bucks.

Flicker. Flicker flicker. The lights in the CIC flutter, trying to sustain that familiar blue glow. Terminals buzz, lighting up one by one. DRADIS beeps loudly, powering up.

It would seem the CIC is back in business.

Persy whoops and does a little end-zone celebration in the confines of the generator closet. It's not much room to shimmy, but one does what one can. "Lords of Kobol, THANK you!"

Praxis looks over in the direction of the closet when Persy's voice raises, a silent thank you tossed in her direction before he is sure to keep an eagle eye on that cool green parabolic sweep of the representation of the space outside of their ship. Raiders? A few basestars? Hopefully not? The Lieutenant can only sit and watch as he was ordered to like a good boy.

And he sees nothing. Great! For now.

Sheridan gives the poor countermeasures officer a hearty slap on the back as she gets them back in business. "Good work, Lieutenant. Demitros, report. Lockley, how are my weapons looking?" The Commander switches off his flashlight and pushes to his feet, as CIC once again returns to its familiar bustle of voices and motion.

Persy takes .05 seconds to glow in light of the Commander's praise, then her eyes go wide. "Oh, frak, my frakking /network/…" she dives for the ECM station. "I'm going to have to rebuild it…"

Praxis is briefly distracted by Tanner's pretty much -leap- back to her station, before Knight reports what's going on with the DRADIS, which is pretty much jack all. "DRADIS reports no contacts at this current point in time." his report comes simply and plainly.

Sheridan smoothes his uniform jacket down, and returns to his own 'station' not far from Praxis' shoulder. Nothing like performing under pressure, eh? "Good. Let's keep it that way," he tells Demitros curtly. "As soon as Captain Eos is on the horn with our main power back online, I want a report from the fireteam. Tanner, let me know the instant you've got that network online. I don't want it up any longer than necessary."

"Recreating the network should only take a few minutes, sir," Persy reports, ruffling a hand through her already-mussed hair. "I still have the schematics in my head."

Praxis ponders for a moment exactly how he alone is going to keep the DRADIS clear. Should he put his hands over the display? If they can't see it, it's not there? Of course, failing to mention that particular problem to the CO, he continues to track the sensor sweep with his eyes. "Yes sir. Standing by."

Sheridan grunts something at the pair that seems to suffice as approval, and then bustles away as the XO comes jogging in with yet another report.

"So! Good times, good times," Persy says, eyes on her terminal as she pulls the network back together. "CIC goes long periods without a lot of action, I guess, but when we see it… holy SHIT."

Praxis looks up from the radar, out towards Persy and her tip tip tapping away at the keys of her console. He gives her a bit of a look - one that outlines the fact that it's been an interesting day before taking a casual glance back at the screen. Of course, 'holy shit' gets his attention, but of course it's nothing important, just her relating the situation. "Somehow I believe we're going to get reprimanded for this." Knight remarks to Tanner.

Persy, who says 'frak' more than any five people should, shoots Praxis a sidelong glance that would be amusement, if the situation weren't still so urgent. "Could be, sir," she rubs her eyes and then watches her screen, waiting for the systems to affirm their connections. "But I'm not gonna worry about that until our collective fat's out of the fire."

Lines of code scroll across Persy's monitor as she works, compiling then linking then… success! The systems are brought back up, and the status of the ship's network goes from 'disconnected' to several dings of 'active' across the board, one by one.

Praxis nods his head slightly. "That is a sound plan, Lieutenant JG. It's up to you to do that, it seems." he mentions. No pressure. Glance to DRADIS. Glance to Persy. Glance to DRADIS. Which one is he going to pay attention to the most? Hard to say.

Slapping her hands down on the station surface, Persy beams. "Commander, sir, we're networked. Permission to search and destroy."

"Permission granted, Lieutenant," comes the Commander's voice from nearby, where the XO is dropping photo after photo onto the planning table. Looks like snapshots of a weapons locker, from the security cameras' static feed. "Demitros, give her a hand. I want this godsdamned ghost out of my ship."

Praxis looks over to Persy with a bit of an incredulous look. Permission to get rid of the virus? She must be joking. Of course, before he can say anything his back is made straight and rigid by the Commander's orders, Knight standing up from his station to move over to ECM. Now, Persy is way better at this virus spotting thing than Praxis is, but fortunately Demitros has an eye for certain patterns. "Yes sir. Let's see what we can see, Tanner."

"I know we could only contain it before, but now I'm pissed," Persy to Praxis, by way of explanation. "We had time to study it. Let's use that knowledge. I'm going to cycle through the systems, here. You look for the pattern. I'm going to program a phage — a virus to infect the virus. Let's see if we can make this son of FORTRAN 'splode."

Praxis pastes his eyes to the screen. "Do not scroll too fast or I may miss it. I am not the speed reader you are, I think." he mentions both cautiously and modestly, hands clasped behind his back while he leans forward over her shoulder to get a bit of a better view. And then he starts to see, yes, patterns. "There." he mentions, pointing with his finger. He thought he had found the virus. However, that same pattern is popping up in more places. "There….there…..there…" Demitros turns around. "Commander, we have a problem. Or rather, we had a much larger problem from the beginning than we had originally thought." The TACCO turns back to the monitor. "Persy, would I be correct in my observation that there is not one, but many viruses infecting Kharon's systems?"

Persy glances up at Praxis, her expression pensive. "This is bad," Lt. JG Obvious notes. She nods. "Yeah. The different mutations were so… /different/ they didn't even look like the same species. We were looking for… mutated parakeets while we had monkeys and giraffes running around, too." She shakes her head. "It could take weeks, even with Engineering pitching in. We'd have to flush the systems entirely, everything infected. It'd be like amputating to avoid the spread of gangrene. We'd have to rewrite a lot of the code from scratch."

Sheridan has drifted in closer while the pair work, scowl deepening as he listens to the banter going back and forth. Ship falling apart does NOT make the Commander happy. "Acknowledged, Lieutenants. I want backups of key systems made, before we proceed any further. And then I want you on the horn with Captain Eos, as soon as we have power back. There's no sense flailing around at this like we've been doing; we're going to have to sit down and noodle this one out." Did Sheridan just say 'noodle'?

Persy looks crestfallen, drawing a breath as though to say… something. Which she doesn't say. She simply nods, saying instead, "Yes, sir. No more flailing."

Ship falling apart wouldn't likely make the rest of the vital CIC crew happy either. Viruses mean that there are more long shifts ahead, meaning no sleep and tag team coffee breaks and trips to the head again. Praxis nods his head curtly, turning to the Lt.JG. "Let's backup and put it on external storage where it can't hurt anything." A hand pats on Tanner's shoulder before the tactical officer moves back to his station. "Sir, we will accomplish our original task this time." Demitros assures the CO.

"See that you do, Demitros." And then the Commander's backing off, and returning to a somewhat agitated prowling of CIC, while they wait for word from Engineering that main power's back.

"Maybe I should talk less and… noodle more…" Persy theorizes, reaching down beneath the workspace for backup tapes. It's the beginning of a long — and boring — process. What joy is hers.

Ping. Pong. CIC sent someone to engineering last round, so here engineering is to reciprocate. And boy does engineering stink. The sharp tang of soot and burnt…something…follows Roubani along through the hatch to CIC. His cheeks have streaks on them where he did his best to scrub dirt off them with the backs of his hands, now looking sort of like a mentally challenged raccoon. He draws up to salute, face unjoking even through indignity. "Sirs."

Demitros looks over to Persy's station, raising a bit of an eyebrow at her attitude, getting up from where he is and heading back to her, pulling a chair right up next to the woman and leaning on the counter next to her. "I don't believe that is the Lieutenant Tanner I have grown to know." A beat. "I will get you a coffee and a sandwich, Persy, and then I will listen to you talk while we work. The same as the last infection." Cheering up Persy might help the work go faster after all. Standing back up when Roubani enters, Demitros raises a chin at Roubani. "Ah, Ensign. Glad you made it up here." Praxis greets.

"Ensign," Persy shoots Roubani a wan smile. "You look terrible." Then, to Praxis as she sets up begins the backup of the first system, "No worries. I'll bounce back. It's just… I'm fine." She nods. "And I won't have my boss bringing me sandwiches, sir," she stands, stretching. "I'm your flunky. That's my job."

CIC is currently a mess of flickering consoles being brought back to life, wires spilling out of the backup generator's closet, and what appears to be an ad-hoc network taking its first wobbly steps on a few screens. Now and then, a network gateway flips to 'disconnected' with an angry red marquee and a noisy bleeping, but for the most part the things seems to be holding. The Commander himself is alternating between prowling the raised platform at the centre of CIC, and reading reports handed to him by a harried-looking petty officer. He looks up when Roubani enters, then gets back to his reading. Praxis, it seems, is trusted to handle things with the snipe.

"Lieutenants," Roubani says, as that's about as personal as he gets on duty. "Commander, sir." A formal address to Sheridan, but he ainn't about to bug a reading Commander. Back to Praxis. "Main power should be back online within a few minutes." His thumb rubs over his cheek again. Smear. "Once it's up we'll be conducting a point of origin sweep of the fire and dumping our system error readouts for analysis. Our information is yours should you desire it. Is there anything I can do to assist you here?"

There's a shudder and then a low whine as Kharon's main power cells come back online. Lights flicker on as emergency lighting in the hangar bay, CIC, sickbay and Engineering fade out, and the ship's engines begin spinning back up in tandem.

At parade rest, Praxis listens to the report, refraining from smiling too much as the news comes through that the power is going to be coming back on-line which hail mary, it suddenly does. Demitros rotates his eyes up to the ceiling and then back down to Roubani. "Thank you for the report, Ensign. Be advised that multiple spawns of the virus has spread itself through the systems. Inform Captain Eos that we will be doing a backup and subsequent wipe and rewrite of the system to eliminate them. We may need your assistance later for that particular task." A beat. "The system error readouts will be beneficial to have, yes please, Ensign." Glancing over to Sheridan once to ensure, Praxis leans in for a more suble murmur.

As the power kicks in, a big, warm smile manages to push its way past Persy's exhaustion. She nods at Roubani. "Good job…" and dumps herself back into her chair, checking that the system backup is coming along swimmingly. "Hades in a handbasket, I do need coffee."

Roubani replies back mildly, in a murmur that won't reach either Persy or the Commander, then goes on with a slight frown, "Do you know, sir, what this particular version of the virus is exploiting? I'm not sure if you had the time to read the reports on the first incidents we had."

The briefest of smiles pass onto Praxis' features while the whisper exchanges between the two men, though no more under-the-breath murmuring is done as Demitros replies to the query of the snipe. "This particular incarnation of the virus is mutated and dynamic. It has inhabited a range of systems from the DRADIS to the hot water systems. The particular security flaw it exploited is unknown as we have been unable to trace the origin as of yet, unfortunately." The answer comes formally and eloquently, much like the rest of the TACCO's speech even while offduty. "Thinking we had contained it, we were unaware of other spawns still lingering within the system."

[Intercom] Kai says, "Available MPs to deck 1, forward hall. Pass the word, MPs report to deck 1, forward hall."

Roubani's dark eyes make a very brief flicker up at the intercom call, then return to Praxis and he nods. "Engineering has several dedicated clean machines off the networks that we've been using to keep track of all this since the first version. If you and Lieutenant Tanner would like somewhere more private to work, you are welcome to use them with us." He glances at the other consoles in the room, then back to Praxis. "And it may be beneficial to be able to speak more at length. There are some issues from both times that perhaps you and Tanner might be able to shed light on."

Praxis acknowledges. "Yes, of course. The situation has been rather demanding of us lately, I apologize for the lack of communication over the past several days." he says. "I will be sure to follow up with you and the rest of the engineering crew. Expect word from me soon." The tactical officer salutes the Ensign. "Thank you…Roubani, was it?"

Persy nods, raking a hand back through her hair. "I can come down and have a look, Ensign. The backup, now that it's started, will probably take a couple of hours. Nothing for me to do here until then."

"The error dump will take us a little time as well, sir." Roubani replies to Persy, as Praxis gets urgently called off. "One may as well take a few minutes to get one's head together. The night isn't over."

Persy pushes herself up out of her chair. "True, that." She calls one of the CIC Ensigns over. "Could you cover for me for a bit? It's just a standard backup to tape. Just hail me if you see anything… weird."

She looks Roubani over, smiling wryly. "Thank you for everything you've done tonight, Ensign."

"You as well, sir," Roubani replies. His face would be well-suited to smiling more but he doesn't. The lines at the corners of his eyes and between his brows are already getting etched at his young age. His eyes flicker up to the PA unit on the wall, lips thin. "I do hope they've found what they were looking for."

Persy nods. "Me, too." She blinks. "Did they ever find the explosives? Or do you think that might have been it?"

"If they are calling the military police," Roubani murmurs, without moving his lips much, "Then by grace of the gods they've stumbled upon what they've been missing."

Nodding, Persy heads for the hallway. "Well, let's get the hell out of here while we can, Ensign. I want coffee. I'm sure you could use some tea. Maybe a damp washcloth."

You paged Willem with 'So how much longer you got before you are beddy bye?'
"Even tea on the washcloth would do," Roubani replies, drily. He steps back so the senior can depart first.

Persy grins. "Now /that/ is economical."

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