Information Management
Posted on Sun Oct 26th, 2025 @ 9:39pm by Lieutenant Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil & Crewman Emiliano Echevarria & Captain Remy Johansen & Major Clay McEntyre III & Lieutenant Commander Ryan Keel & Lieutenant JG Sakkar & Lieutenant JG Jezra Siv MD & Lieutenant JG Fulvia & Lieutenant JG Jason Williams III
2,660 words; about a 13 minute read
Mission:
Peril at the Unification Accords
Location: Bridge
Timeline: Concurrent with "Avoiding the Shards" / "Medical Emergency"
Jean-Baptiste stepped out of the turbolift first, jaw tight, eyes swinging over the Astrea's bridge the way a vulture might survey a cadaver. The ship had already been brought to Yellow Alert–panels now breathed amber, voices clipped and hushed, only efficiency needed in crisis. Even the usual hum of the vessel seemed sharper. It was as if Astrea knew the tone of the day had changed direction.
Four auxiliary stations aft of the bridge had been cleared on the port-side quadrant, screens alive with static and systems handshaking. Someone had already dragged up the tactical overlays of Barisa Prime, a spiderweb of transmission routes and comm relays spanning the surface of the planet. The world below gleamed blue, green, and gold in the forward viewscreen–all catching the light of their sun.
"Start a secure channel with the reception grounds," JB said, voice low but carrying. "We need eyes on every exit and transport pad. Full audio stream, crosslink with medical telemetry from Sickbay."
The turbolift doors opened again, admitting Lieutenant JG Fulvia.
"Fed nets light up like a terran Xmas tree," she added before barking, "Scramble all cargo transports coming in and out of the station, have them transported to our primary cargo bay."
JB seated himself at a terminal next to Fulvia, his fingers moving fast across the console. "Everything between the Vulcan delegation, Romulan security, and Starfleet Security comms--prioritize for command-grade encryption. We have to flag anything that smells like interference." He inserted a small communication unit into his left ear that was connected into the ship's communication array.
Over the comm, JB heard a conversation between two members of Astrea's Diplomatic Detachment:
[Keel here,] came a familiar voice to JB. [Still in the building and shepherding dignitaries to the cordons--we can process and question them that way. Work out who's missing.]
There was a pause.
[Uh, if any of you can find me a tricorder, we can take some preliminary readings of the space.]
Jean-Baptiste tapped into the comm channel and said, "Keel, hold your position. I'm having a tricorder beamed to your location in just a moment."
[Thanks Jean-Baptiste,] came Keel's grateful voice. [I owe you one once this situation is locked down.]
JB could only smile on the inside but he made a mental note that he and Keel were due for another drink-and-chat. Maybe once the current crisis was resolved and the Ambassador was back on her feet, they could breathe a sigh of relief and truly enjoy it.
He threw open another comm channel and winced as several panicked voices overlapped in his ear--mostly officers and marines at the conference center. Having squelched the remainder of the noise, he opened a comm link to transporter room two. "Bridge to Transporter Room Two."
[Hitchens here. This is Transporter Room Two.]
"Ensign," JB said, seeing some startling information cross Fulvia's display from Sickbay. "Please prepare a tricorder and have it transported to Lieutenant Keel's location. I'm aware it's currently flagged as a no-transport zone but given the situation--"
[Understood, Lieutenant. Taking care of it now.]
"Fulvia," Jean-Baptiste whispered to the Magna Roman woman seated next to him. "What's the Ambassador's status?"
"Been taken to the station's medbay. Status is still unknown," came her reply, her eyes not leaving the screen and the incoming radio traffic.
JB nodded once, grimly. If her status was still unknown, it likely meant the Astrea's medical staff were still busy working on her. If she were conscious or stable, the status would likely have already been updated. The implications of T'Varel's death would likely set the Unification movement back another decade at least. Though, he reminded himself that he was there to coordinate--not to ruminate.
Sakkar was at his station, having reported aboard only an hour prior. He'd had just enough time to acquire the necessities to become a functioning member of the crew, a working comm badge and personal security codes to access the helm, when the ship had gone to yellow alert. Now he was monitoring the shipping traffic in orbit. If the unfolding incident with the Ambassador proved to be a crime, then perhaps the perpetrators would be eager to leave the scene.
Assuming they hadn't already departed hours ago, he thought to himself with furrowed brow. "Three ships have been granted departure clearances today," he reported. "A Nidean bulk freighter, A Rigellian-flagged pleasure craft, and a survey vessel registered to the Arkus Concordance." With satisfaction he noted that he wasn't the only one who had thought of it. "The starbase is hailing all three to have them hold their positions." He tapped more commands into his console. The next step was to examine yesterday's departures.
Without looking up from his console, Jean-Baptiste called back to Sakkar, "Good work. Let's confirm those vessels are holding."
He straightened, fingers tapping across his own console, opening a narrowband link. "Dorsainvil to Squadron Leader Williams."
Jason had been relaxing in the pilot's wardroom when the yellow alert sounded. As soon as it did, he stood and hurried to his fighter, issuing orders to have three other birds readied for immediate launch.
As he was climbing into his Raptor, his comm beeped. Pressing the connect control, he replied. "Williams here, go ahead Dorsainvil."
"Lieutenant," JB said, his focus on the display showing icons and coordinates of each of the vessels that had departed the Barisa starbase. "We've got three outbound vessels flagged by the starbase. A Nidean freighter, a Rigellian pleasure craft, and an Arkus surveyor. We need your element in the net around them--a non-aggressive posture for now, but feel free to make your presence known."
"Understood. Launching now. We will ensure no one leaves the area without authorization. Williams out." A few moments later, a quartet of starfighters launched from Astrea's shuttlebay two. The small craft sped around and past the mighty starship in a diamond formation, Williams in the lead position.
Jean-Baptiste adjusted his earpiece and keyed open a secure line to the planet surface. The channel opened with a tiny pop--then the background murmur of shouting voices bled through.
"Major McEntyre, this is Lieutenant Dorsainvil in Command Center," he said, tone clipped. "Be advised--Fulvia and I are in position. All planetary communications are now being monitored in real-time. You and Lieutenant Xalanth will be receiving immediate flag alerts if we catch anything unusual."
"Acknowledged. We're standing by here." Clay promptly replied.
JB turned toward another series of buttons at the upper right of his console and keyed-in an open channel.
"This is Lieutenant Dorsainvil," his voice carried over the channel of all personnel currently planetside and throughout the Astrea. "Central Command Security Protocol Alpha is now effect. All Starfleet and planetary security elements will respond in order of designation followed by a short sitrep."
He paused a moment before cutting his entry to channel, letting the various teams begin to report in.
[Green-Alpha-One reporting all-clear,] came a solemn female voice.
A gruff marine's voice broke through the frequency. [Green-Alpha-Two reporting all-clear.]
[Green-Beta-One--we're all clear over here at the northeast entrance.]
As the nearly two-dozen security teams sounded-off over the channel, Jean-Baptiste glanced over at Fulvia for a moment to see what information she was gathering.
The Magna Roman's eyes still glared at the incoming radio traffic. There was something she just... "Xalanth believes he's found a suspect waiting on support. He was on some kind of communicator, looking for any high encryption channels," she called out as her fingers began to work.
Jean-Baptiste watched as Fulvia managed the radio traffic on her console. Multiple bands, dozens of frequencies--all active. He turned his attention back to his own console and began to watch the planetside traffic, noting several diplomatic shuttles still on the ground. However, one shuttle was moving at low power.
"Lieutenant Sakkar," JB called across the bridge. "I'm picking up one diplomatic shuttle that has left the conference facility without authorization. What do you see?"
Before the chief flight control officer could answer Lieutenant Dorsainvil, the turbolift doors opened and Captain Johansen stepped onto the Bridge and made her way to her right and toward the tactical and intelligence stations where JB and Fulvia were working.
"What do we know?" Remy asked to the officers on the Bridge at large, not addressing anyone in particular.
JB rose halfway from his seat, giving the Captain nod before answering.
"One unauthorized launch from the surface," he said. "Diplomatic shuttle, registry marks match one of the Romulan escort craft. Running low power, no beacon. I've already directed Sakkar to verify its vector."
JB turned back to his screen upon hearing some comm traffic from the Starfighter Wing element. They had made their approach around the three vessels from the starbase and were in full intercept.
The first two ships acquiesced immediately, turning their craft back to the station. The Arkus surveyor refused to fall in line. Via the display, it appeared Jason was forced to fire a few shots past their bow. Finally, they gave up, and fell into formation with the starfighters, as they returned to the station.
JB breathed a sigh of relief. "The three ships that left the starbase are returning, Captain." He then turned his attention back to the other moving parts of this crisis.
He gestured to his Magna Roman colleague's station. "Lieutenant Fulvia's tracing active comms--Marine teams are reporting all-clear, but Xalanth appears to have apprehended a suspect." He glanced at Fulvia, his expression professional and curt. "We don't have an update yet on the Ambassador's status."
"Is there enough to detain and bring aboard for questioning?" the Captain asked. "Do we know enough yet? Any idea what actually happened to the Ambassador? Information on the ground was limited."
Sakkar cut in with an urgent report. "Captain, the diplomatic shuttle is leaving orbit. Heading one-one-seven, mark one-five." He turned his chair to face Remy. "They are heading for open space, and increasing speed."
Jean-Baptiste's eyes locked on the sensor trace pulsing across his screen--one smell vessel, light green against a grid of gold and grey. He leaned forward, examining the same information Sakkar was seeing.
"Captain," he said, voice cutting through the Bridge's noise, "the diplomatic shuttle in question is the RFS Vhathal, registry confirmed to the Romulan delegation's support staff. It's not responding to transmissions ordering it to halt."
His hand moved to stabilize the feed, zooming the view. "Telemetry's showing shield modulation and power cycling. I can't explain why."
Are they expecting an attack? We need to know what they know, or at least what they suspect. Open a channel to the diplomatic vessel and put Astrea on an intercept course," Remy ordered. "Do we have pilots ready to send out to tail the other vessels?"
"Lieutenant Williams' element has already been scrambled, Captain--en route to intercept the Vhathal now," JB said, voice steady and flat. "They've just altered course and are closing. No weapons lock yet."
JB stood and moved with grace toward the tactical station, tapping the young woman on the shoulder--an indication he would be assuming her post. "Captain," he said. "I'm patching Williams through your channel. He'll give you live updates when they've intercepted. I've got tactical from here." He tied into his aft station through the tactical console. "Channel open," he said to Remy.
"Lieutenant, Report," Remy stated.
Over the open Comm channel, Jason's voice could be heard on the bridge. =/\=Wraith here, Astrea, we have already warned the shuttle pilot to reverse their course and return to the planet, or we will be forced to lock tractor beams on them and physically fly them back.=/\=
"Is anyone tracking the other vessels that are in the process of leaving?" the Captain asked.
Jean-Baptiste could hear the chatter between Major McEntyre's marines and the Astrea's security contingent on the surface through his ear piece. It sounded as though Williams' group was giving the Vhathal no room to escape. "Captain, the shuttle is reversing course and returning to Argentia City Spaceport Control," JB relayed.
"Tell Clay to get a team over there to find out what in the hell they were trying to do," Remy barked, her patience wearing thin.
"Yes, ma'am," he answered quickly, already keying the command through. "Major McEntyre, you heard the Captain. Task your first-response element to secure the Vhathal and detain that pilot."
"Copy that, Astrea." Clay replied, gathering up his rifle and leading his men to the transporters.
At that moment, the dark-haired and slightly tanned Emiliano Echevarria emerged from a turbolift, moving swiftly to occupy JB's previous position beside Fulvia among the aft bank of stations. JB nodded to the young operations officer before smoothly removing his ear piece and tossing it gently into Emiliano's cupped hands.
The Bridge was a flurry of lights and sounds - officers exchanging information as it came in, relaying orders, calling out to one another across the bullpen, getting up to exchange PADDs or share more directed information. The team was working well together, even the newest officers quickly took on their roles, quickly becoming part of the team as if they'd always been there. It was energizing. But all of that energy came to a drastic stop, and Remy turned to see what what had caused the sudden shift.
The turbolift door slid open. Jezra stepped out onto the bridge, gaze lifting from the PADD in their hands with visible reluctance. Monitoring the medical diagnostics could wait, at least for a minute. The white vest from the reception hall med station was gone. The collar of the teal dress uniform was loosened, as if tugged open after a long day. A dark smear stained one of the sleeves. Jezra's usual friendly demeanour was absent, replaced by a sombre weight on her shoulders that made it clear she'd rather be anywhere else. She looked... exhausted.
"Doctor?" the Captain asked. Remy said nothing more, she didn't need to.
Jezra looked at Remy for a few seconds, as if trying to find the words, then just tilted their head toward the ready room doors. This was already unpleasant, and they did not want to disclose this so publicly. They'd let Remy bear that responsibility, if she chose.
Remy simply held out a hand, gesturing for the Doctor to lead the way.
"Andersen, you have the Bridge. We'll be in the Ready Room," Remy ordered, looking over at her second officer.
Captain Remira Johansen
Commanding Officer
USS Astrea
Major Clay McEntyre III
Marine Commanding Officer
USS Astrea
Lieutenant Ryan Keel
Chief Diplomatic Officer
USS Astrea
Lieutenant JG Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil
Assistant Chief Security Officer
USS Astrea
Lieutenant JG Jezra Siv
Chief Medical Officer
USS Astrea
Lieutenant JG Fulvia
Intelligence Officer
USS Astrea
Lieutenant JG Sakkar
Chief Flight Control Officer
USS Astrea
Lieutenant JG Jason Williams III
Squadron Leader, Starfighter Wing
USS Astrea
Crewman Emiliano Echevarria
Operations Technician
USS Astrea
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