MC_Escher

Meritorious Achievement Award Escher’s life had been waterlogged. His every action had coursed under the weight of muddied currents, opaque eddies. He had worried that the river would never clear. Now, for a moment, the sun had broken through the brown swirls and pierced all the way to the bottom of Escher’s heart. He wished it would go back to the way it was, though. At least the pain was less then. Deflector control gleamed in the way that only starships can, and med techs bustled around Syndrx’s crumpled corpse as only those who see death every day can. To them, Syndrx was just another body, created for their disposal by the Manticore’s calamitous journey through dimensions. To Escher, a department member, and valued scientist, a man – a friend – had just been snuffed out. The heap of flesh and bone lying on the deck were simply a mockery of what had once been a person. Horrible echoes range through Escher’s ears. He had issued a stern order to place T’Prise at deflector control, away from Syndrx. Escher knew with the absolute certainty reserved for the most uncertain that her presence, her cold Vulcan logic, would have saved one of Escher’s best friends and fellow officers. She would have acted quickly, not let Ian’s frantic actions surprise her. She would have been better, faster, smarter. Escher’s throat grew tighter as a million alternate endings spun themselves out in his head, all ending with a smiling Ian, bruised and tattered and exhausted but happily content, having successfully helped the Manticore get home. Escher closed his eyes as he imagined himself wrapping a surprised Ian in a bear hug, pulling back, slapping him on the back. Ian, he would say, I’m not sure if I’ve told you how good of a friend you are – how glad I am to have you in science. Ian’s confused but grateful expression would make Escher laugh. The warm, yellow glow of contentedness would suffuse the scene and – Escher’s eyes snapped open and he was surprised to find tears staining his cheeks. As the never-can-bes had unfolded in his mind his fists had started clenching, and the feeling of something being squeezed in his right hand had broken him from his reverie. He sat down heavily to look at the photograph that he had taken from Syndrx’s body and that had been sitting, forgotten, in Escher’s right hand. He wiped the salt water and desperation from his eyes so that, for a moment, he could see clearly. And then his eyes grew wide. Picture T’Prise and Picture Escher stood next to each other. Escher’s arm wrapped firmly and lovingly around T’Prise’s shoulder, who was leaning ever so slightly into the embrace. The grin that encompassed Escher’s expression in the picture was glowing. Even T’Prise was smiling a little, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly in a way that the Escher sitting in deflector control, leaning over the photograph, had never seen before. Both Picture T’Prise’s and Picture Escher’s gazes were pointed down, where standing between them, grabbing their hands, looking curiously at the camera, was a small boy. His ears were slightly pointed and he already had a keen, intelligent edge to his gaze. He could be no older than two or three. Escher snapped back to deflector control and blinked as the waves of realization hit him. This had to be the son he had discovered among the wreckage of the alternate Manticore. But how had Ian come to possess such a photograph? Escher turned over the photo to find a scrawled note. “I was his godfather. You three were so happy.” It was interesting, the small, detached part of Escher’s brain thought, how strange it feels to switch from abject despair to complete confusion. The waters were muddled again. Escher felt that this time, the murkiness went much, much deeper than before.

Stolen Dreams The dying screams of the captain of the colonial ship still reverberated through Escher’s mind. It scarred him deeply, but new scar tissue looks much the same when layered upon the old. What more is a hundred people dying if a man has witnessed thousands before? What about entire worlds? The tumultuous thoughts going through Escher’s head spun off on wild tangents but kept coming back to one thing: the difference. Somehow, the world before and the world after the explosion of that colonial ship were…altered. There was some intangible change that had come over the universe. The effect was strong enough that Escher broke out his almost catatonic shell he had entered a month after coming aboard the ship, causing him to reflect on how he had gotten into this dire situation in the first place. Both of his parents were scientists, and powerful enough that the Intelligence Police stayed away from their house. This meant that young Malcolm had a unique experience growing up. His parents, being hopeless idealists in a world dominated by madmen, let him read as much pre-First Contact literature as they could find. Escher grew up in an optimistic haze, dreaming of scientific method, of advancement of humanity, of traveling the stars. The Imperial Fleet propaganda drew him in, and he saw being assigned as a ship’s science officer as a dream come true. Knowing the truth, Escher’s parents cautioned him away from it, but they were too cowardly to bring themselves to tell him truth, so their nebulous reasons and vague warnings made no impact on him. He flew out for his aptitude test with the hopes and goals of a long-gone era resting on his shoulders. The test should have warned him, but he was too naïve to read the warning signs. He was slightly puzzled when most of the questions covered such topics as neurotoxins, poisonous aliens, mass drivers and planet killers, but shrugged it off and concentrated on the test. He did well. He did so well, in fact, that the Fleet decided to post him to the premier Imperial Psi ship – the ISS Manticore. He arrived on the Manticore ready to better humanity and save the world. He was given menial tasks to do for the first month. Then, an assignment came through – a colony station was to be gassed with a new drug that had come down from IFSciHQ, that was totally undetectable and would be blamed on systems malfunction on the station. The science officers were all excited, eagerly prepping the toxin and testing it on prisoners in the brig. After taking one look at what it could do, Escher told himself that he would not let this plan go through. At the last second, Escher sabotaged the toxin capsules so that they would vent the gas into space and arrive on the station empty. When IFHQ sent an angry message to the Admiral requesting why everyone on the station was still alive, the Admiral turned his wrath to the science department. One by one, every single science officer was called into the Admiral’s office, told why they were failure to the Empire, and summarily executed. When Escher was called in, he was already dead inside. His attempt to save a population had killed all of his superior officers. Any spark of life had been extinguished by that one blow. He didn’t even blink when he was promoted to Chief Science Officer instead of killed. Apparently, the Admiral considered him too low down for the incident to have been his fault, which left him the ranking science officer. Since then, Escher has seen entire worlds leveled, entire species wiped out, all without blinking an eye. He in fact helped engineer even the most horrid of the atrocities. Nothing fazed him anymore. What could a single colony ship destroyed mean anymore? Except that was the thing. For the first time in years, Escher felt something. It was only a small glimmer, to be sure, but it was there. As Escher recovered from the Admiral’s blow, wiping the blood with his sleeve, he realized that he cared again. He knew that it probably wouldn’t last, but with his new found awareness there was a chance that something could change. And considering his situation, it could only be an improvement.

Many Matters A Log by Lieutenant MC Escher Escher stared gloomily at the official Star Fleet orders readout. He didn’t know if he was angry, shocked or just plain sad. He also almost regretted ever bringing the Cremorian barking spiders on board…almost. Dark matter…dark matter…Starfleet Academy Science hadn’t spent much time on it, simply because it wasn’t particularly useful or interesting. Oh, it served its purpose in the universe, but it couldn’t be used for anything. In the mid twentieth century, scientists discovered a colossal error in the universal arithmetic. When they measured a galaxy cluster by looking at it, based on its brightness and size, they got a mass 400 times less than the mass derived from the affect of the galaxy cluster on objects around it. This “missing mass problem” was solved with the concept of dark matter. It is an unseen, universal type of matter. While only a few hydrogen atoms worth of it exist in a cubic meter, every cubic meter in the universe has those atoms (unlike observable matter, which is concentrated clumps with massive empty voids in between), so it adds up to a lot. That was pretty much its purpose: maintain the gravitational pull in the universe so the things don’t come crashing back together again. It didn’t do much. Until now. Escher’s main sore spot with this whole affair was that Starfleet hadn’t told him the special properties of the spiders. They had duped him into getting them for the ship by planting shiny facts in front of him that no good scientist could turn down. They had made some vague (and completely false) reference to magic sweat, and left it at that. Nothing about possible uses in dark matter, nothing about possible endangerment of life and limb brought about by these unique traits. Apparently, they had planned for the spiders to hitch a ride on the Manticore all along. It was a black ops ship; it was under the radar; it wouldn’t be missed if it suddenly disappeared. Escher really, really hoped it wouldn’t do that. He tabbed to the next page on the PADD. It had the complicated schematics for the inner workings of the containment device and dark matter scoop. Manticore would head to the quasar cluster, around which was a concentrated ring of dark matter. The ship would fly along this ring so that the scoop could collect the dark matter and send it along channels into the containment box in Science. (That was another problem. It would have to be assembled in four different parts in the Cargo Bay, then physically walked to Science for installation because the massive magnetic coils in the containment device rendered the structure un-beamable.) There, the magnetic fields would concentrate the dark matter, at which point the spiders would be let into the chamber. They would encounter the collected dark matter and concentrate it or focus it in a way that nobody who has observed the spiders before could say anything about, other than “something happens.” If the spiders actually make a product from the dark matter, it will get sucked into a separate chamber and stored for later use. Escher sighed and pushed back from his desk. He went over to the replicator and replicated himself a drink. It worried him that he could only see dark and dangerous times on the horizon. Mark my words, he said to himself, this is only going to end in trouble….

Note: This takes place right between last sim and the one before that. No cure was in sight, and people were desperate. Scratch Scratch A Joint Log by Mele and Escher Dr. Mele was mad. Very mad. He gripped Lieutenant, Junior Grade Escher’s arm possibly a little tighter than necessary as he steered Escher toward his office. “Inside. Now,” hissed Mele. Escher, looking positively bewildered, entered the chief medical officer’s personal work space. The door whooshed shut behind Mele as he strode in and around his desk. “Sit,” he practically barked at the lieutenant. Escher hurriedly sat down in the lone chair across from Mele. “What,” Mele started, barely controlling his fury, “were you thinking? Standing up in the middle of the room and yelling about how everyone should be happier? I could make a permanent black mark in your record. You wouldn’t rise above JG!” By this point Escher was shaking. “Sir!” he managed to get out. “I was only trying to be motivational. I thought everyone was feeling a little down and that they…needed a boost.” “A boost?” retorted Mele. “A boost? What you did in there in no way helped them. You asked them why they weren’t happy! Do you want to know why they aren’t happy? Because they’re scared. They don’t know what’s happening to them and frankly neither do I. We are operating in the dark here and little ‘motivational’ speeches like that aren’t benefiting anyone!” Escher’s lip quivered. “I know! And I’m sorry. It’s just…with the possibility of death hanging over everyone…I mean, I saw someone’s skin start to slough off in there! And I just didn’t know what to do, so I…spoke out of turn.” Mele sighed and his anger broke. He wearily collapsed into his chair. “I understand. We all have that feeling. This disease refuses to cooperate!” Mele’s com badge beeped. He angrily pressed it into his chest. “Mele here. Go ahead.” “Sir, Starbase 36 just contacted us. Apparently, the members of the Exeter crew that first came down with the disease…have just died.” A blank look passed over Mele’s face. He sat there, motionless, as Escher gasped and then quickly looked at the floor. “Yes, thank you for telling me. Mele out,” replied the doctor, and cut the connection. He looked over at Escher. “I have to go to the lab. If there is one last chance that we can save anyone…I have to find it. I won’t make a note in your permanent file, just don’t let it happen again.” He strode over to the door and exited the office. Escher was left to contemplate mortality and humanity and the wall across from Mele’s desk. And he continued to scratch. All over, he just scratch, scratch, scratched.

Tarantella Two Days Prior To Current Sim Time Escher took a deep breath and stepped up to the holodeck door. "Computer," he said in his most commanding voice, "please start simulation, in natural environment, training subclass, for the Cremorian barking spider. Safety protocol: on. Definitely on." The computer beeped, and the omnipotent computer voice responded: "Simulation activated." Escher took another deep breath and opened the door, thinking to himself. "Now, this training simulation is so that I will be able to handle the real thing. Here we go." Escher stepped into the room. Green foliage arced overhead, and the humidity hit him like a sledgehammer. A rainforest, alive with bug sounds and bird calls, greeted him. He was now dressed in full body, acid proof, decibal checking, stylishly pink armor, and holding a long pole with vacuum on the end. Sitting in front of him, in a nest made out of (Escher gulped at this point) bones, were four spider looking creatures. They had ten legs however, and were about four feet in diameter. Also, they were bright green, very hairy, and had 12 inch long pincers coming out of their heads. As soon as Escher entered the holodeck, the spiders swiveled around to face him, making low hissing noises. Escher found it hard to believe that these creatures were some of the most medically and scientifically valuable creatures in the galaxy. When threatened, they secreted a chemical rife with totipotent stem cells, cells that when treated correctly could turn into almost any organ in any body, of any species. The trick to getting this serum, according to Cremorian Barking Spiders for Dummies, was to annoy it just enough to get its secretion, but not enough to cause it to start spitting poison, bitting your head off, or using its paralyzing bark. Escher picked up a rock from the ground, carefully aimed for the tip of the leg of the closest one, and heaved. The rock smacked directly into the spider's twelve eyes. Unleashing a terrifying scream, the spider ran backward, underneath its bone nest. The other three spiders, which were slightly smaller (they were the children), started making strange poses. One reared up on its two back legs, one flattened itself to the ground, and the third rolled onto its back. Escher saw, through his steadily increasing fear, that all three were dripping clear fluid. He started taking cautious steps toward them. “Nice spiders,” he muttered under his breath. The baby spiders seemed to be ignoring him, instead concentrating on something over his head. He kept edging his way towards them, and then realized that there was probably only one thing more interesting to the baby spiders than him. Escher spun around and looked up in time to see a very hairy body drop towards him. Razor-sharp mandibles closed around his helmet. Escher yelled and shook his head, which dislodged the spider and left Escher extremely dizzy. He staggered backwards, slammed into a tree, and fell to the ground. Escher winced as he stood up. The training program was designed to so that a trainee felt all non-permanent injuries, in order to instill the belief that this was not a game. Brandishing the vacuum tube, Echer turned around only to have his face covered in green slime. The acid, while not actually burning through anything, was extremely sticky, and almost totally obscured his vision. The barking spider charged him, issuing a loud bark that would have paralyzed Escher if not for the holodeck and suit. Escher yelled and ran towards the beast. They met head on, grappling with each other’s limb, the spider trying to go for the neck of its foe, and the Starfleet officer trying to suck some of the liquid of the spider’s back. They battled over to the door of the holodeck, its smooth gray metal looking strangely out of place amongst the deep green and brown trees. Forcing the spider back just a little bit, Escher turned to the terminal and gasped, “Computer, deactivate barking spider simulation!” A beep later, and Escher was panting in the mercifuly empty section of rainforest where he had had his battle. He prised the icky green acidic goo off his mask and looked down at the meter on his vacuum: 0%. He sighed, then glanced back down at his suit. There were traces of clear liquid entirely covering his suit. The spider had secreted on him in the tussle! Humming to himself, knowing that if this had been real, he hadn’t absolutely totally failed, he limped out of the holodeck.

Escher rocked back and forth in his quarters. He was stupid, stupid, stupid. He went over the situation again. Why does he have a permanent mark of misconduct on his record? Because he shouted during a lockdown situation. Why did he shout? Because he had just gotten a side to have all the same color on a Rubik's cube. Why did he have a Rubik's cube? Because he bought one in an antique shop in New Berlin. Cause and effect. He had been an Ensign for exactly seven hours, and he already had a black spot on his record. He knew that there was no way he could advance in rank. There was no other way for him. To go back home would be to go back under the smothering confines of his parent's domain, and he did no have the money to put himself through school for another line of work. He might as well end it all here. How do you commit suicide on a starship? Throw one's self into the fusion core? "Accidentally" mix the wrong compounds in the science lab? Override the safety protocols on an airlock? Or just the good old fashioned way, phaser to the brain? Come on, Escher thought to himself. I will be okay. Breath in, breath out. Steadily unknot the big ball of worry forming in my chest. I'll get through this. Escher sat up straight. He thought he could now face the world at large, or rather, the spaceship at large. He would just have to make sure his gaze did not linger on those escape hatches.

MC Escher’s Bio Name: Malcolm Christopher Escher Technical Age: 6 ¾ (see birthdate) Actual Age: 27 Date of Birth: February 29, 2356 Place of Birth: New Berlin, Earth Moon, Alpha Quadrant Race: Human Gender: Male Weight: 180 Height: 6’ Hair: Brown Eyes: Green Discerning Marks: A scar running from the corner of the right eye down to the right cheekbone MC Escher was born to wealthy parents on the Earth's Moon (he is called MC because he dislikes the name Malcolm on its own). His father is a defense attorney and his mother is high up in the Federation. Escher’s parents were away from home most of the time. He was looked after by a series of mentors to further his study of law and the government. He led a pampered, spoiled life, until one of his mentors intervened. This mentor, who was named Julius Green, was a different sort of person than all of his other instructors. Julius had a son who died on board the USS Agamemnon in the line of duty. So Julius told Malcolm of Starfleet, and adventure. He showed MC what a spoiled child he had been. He told him stories of the old days, of the exploration of the Alpha Quadrant. He told him of the hordes of fierce Klingons and the bone-chilling Romulans. At that point, Escher realized that he didn’t really like law and did like biometrics and quantum DNA manipulation. He became particularly distant with his parents and developed a close bond with Julius. The two became like father and son. On his fourth and a half (actually eighteenth) birthday, Julius surprised Malcolm with a ticket to take a tour of the solar system on board a Galaxy-class ship. Malcolm’s parents disproved of most space travel, and Malcolm had been in space only once before. Malcolm left a message with his parents (who both were away for the week) and boarded the ship. Before it could take off, however, his parents found the message, were horrified, and told the local police that Julius had kidnapped Malcolm. The police stormed into Malcolm’s and Julius’s room and took Julius by force. Malcolm started protesting the arrest and getting in the way, and in the ensuing chaos got the scar across his face from a misfired phaser blast. He never saw Julius again. Secretly, he applied to Starfleet Academy. On his fifth (twentieth) birthday, he ran away from home and entered the Academy, having gotten in on full scholarship. The Manticore is the second ship he has served on, after the Excalibur. Graduated Starfleet Academy with a major in Biometrics and a minor in Quantum DNA Manipulation

MC Escher’s Bio Name: Malcolm Christopher Escher Technical Age: 6 ¾ (see birthdate) Actual Age: 27 Date of Birth: February 29, 2356 Place of Birth: New Berlin, Earth Moon, Alpha Quadrant Race: Human Gender: Male Weight: 180 Height: 6’ Hair: Brown Eyes: Green Discerning Marks: A scar running from the corner of the right eye down to the right cheekbone MC Escher was born to wealthy parents on the Earth's Moon. His father is a defense attorney and his mother is high up in the Federation. Escher’s parents were away from home most of the time. He was looked after by a series of mentors to further his study of law and the government. He led a pampered, spoiled life, until one of his mentors intervened. This mentor, who was named Julius Green, was a different sort of person than all of his other instructors. Julius had a son who died on board the USS Agamemnon in the line of duty. So Julius told Malcolm of Starfleet, and adventure. He showed MC what a spoiled child he had been. He told him stories of the old days, of the exploration of the Alpha Quadrant. He told him of the hordes of fierce Klingons and the bone-chilling Romulans. At that point, Escher realized that he didn’t really like law and did like particle physics and ship engines. He became particularly distant with his parents and developed a close bond with Julius. The two became like father and son. On his fourth and a half (actually eighteenth) birthday, Julius surprised Malcolm with a ticket to take a tour of the solar system on board a Galaxy-class ship. Malcolm’s parents disproved of most space travel, and Malcolm had been in space only once before. Malcolm left a message with his parents (who both were away for the week) and boarded the ship. Before it could take off, however, his parents found the message, were horrified, and told the local police that Julius had kidnapped Malcolm. The police stormed into Malcolm’s and Julius’s room and took Julius by force. Malcolm started protesting the arrest and getting in the way, and in the ensuing chaos got the scar across his face from a misfired phaser blast. He never saw Julius again. Secretly, he applied to Starfleet Academy. On his fifth (twentieth) birthday, he ran away from home and entered the Academy, having gotten in on full scholarship. The Morningstar is the first ship he has served on, choosing it mostly because it was as far away from his parents as he could go. In the Gamma Quadrant, they couldn’t reach him. Adventure was waiting. Graduated Starfleet Academy with a major in Shield Theory and a minor in Quantum Macroscopic Application