The Difficulty of Doing Nothing

[Victria 0]

“Incoming message. Decryption level seven omega ten,” Ensign Langer announced without enthusiasm.

 

He’d been monitoring security’s incoming and outgoing messages for the last half of his shift and was extremely bored with the process. Most of them were mundane in the dullest sense possible and required no thought on his part. This new message, however, made him sit up a bit straighter in his chair. With such a high decryption level, it was bound to be interesting.

 

“You’ve read that wrong,” Ensign Chou pointed out as he leaned over from his console. “That’s a level seventeen omega ten.”

 

“No effin’ way. That has to be a typo,” Sid rechecked the message heading and balked. “It is seventeen! Bullocks! I was looking for something to do. Can’t touch this one, though.”

 

He sighed and turned halfway in his chair, searching for the ranking officer on duty. Unfortunately for him, the only one within sight was Lieutenant Victria. That still bothered him. Why couldn’t she have a last name like everyone else? Calling her Lieutenant Victria reminded him of his childhood when his mother had forced him to address her friends ‘Mrs. First-name-only’, like Mrs. Betty, Mrs. Cordelia, Mrs. Patricia, and Mrs. Anabelle. It made him feel young and foolish and stupid.

 

“Lieutenant,” he called, deciding to leave off her name altogether. “We have an incoming message. Seventeen omega ten.”

 

“Very well. Send it to Segami’s office and I will run the decryption programs on it,” she replied, though she did not glance up from her screen.

 

“Hang on,” Benjamin elbowed Sid to reclaim his attention. “You really need to start reading these closely. This isn’t for Segami. It’s for Victria.”

 

“Someone sent Victria an essteeohtee?” Sid asked incredulously.

 

“Indeed,” Victria confirmed as she leaned over their shoulders to view the heading, causing both ensigns to jump at her sudden appearance. “Send it to the briefing room. I’ll decrypt it there.”

 

They stared after her as she walked away, though Benjamin was the quickest to recover. He cleared his throat pointedly and turned back to his screen. Sid blinked and glanced at his friend.

 

“Since when is she getting essteeohtees?”

 

Benjamin shrugged. “I have no idea, but you’d better send it before she comes back to see what’s taking so long.”

 

“You don’t suppose it could be some sort of… spy… message… thing?” Sid looked back at his display and packaged the file to shift it to briefing room access only, though his fingers moved slower than usual as he stalled.

 

“Don’t be daft. Any sort of illegal message would not have come through the proper channels. Besides, the heading says it was bounced from Camelot and came from the Alpha quad.”

 

“True,” Sid admitted as he finished the sequence and sent it off. He turned to peer at the briefing room door again, still puzzled. “Should we say anything to the Chief?”

 

“Say what, exactly? That she received a high-priority message and we cannot even begin to speculate as to what was inside? Perhaps you should think ahead to that conversation. He’d probably tell you to stuff it and mind your own business.”

 

“Probably. I guess you’re right.”

 

“I usually am,” Benny said smugly, grinning at his friend.

 

 

In the briefing room, Victria engaged the door locks and the privacy seal before moving to boot the computer. It took a few moments for the programs to cycle through and blink ready. The decryption modules took even longer to load, though they were primed in less than a minute. She stood at the desk and waited for the message to appear, pensive at what it might contain. Just when she was about to head back into main security to find out what was taking so long, the file blinked into existence. She initiated decryption and moved to the general seating to wait.

 

The decryption progress displayed on the room’s main viewer: a horizontal bar that slowly crept upward as the completed percentage increased. She watched dispassionately as it inched to the very top and hovered at ninety-nine percent for what seemed an eternity. Finally, it jumped the last percentage and the bar disappeared. The standard Starfeet Command insignia took its place.

 

“Computer, play message.”

 

“Lieutenant Victria,” the man on screen said. “No doubt you are surprised to hear from me. We haven’t contacted you in a while for several reasons, none of which are important enough to broach during this session. Somehow I doubt that our lack of communication has broken your heart.” He smiled in amusement.

 

“Anyhow, the main purpose of this message is to tell you this: ‘Do nothing’. I am sure that means little to you at this moment, but I must request that you make that your current mantra and repeat it to yourself as much as possible. ‘Do nothing’ or the consequences will be dire. You have your own contacts and, by now, must be fully aware of the Al-Ucardian rebellion in effect. The Federation has signed an agreement with the Scorpaid to not interfere as this is an internal matter and we have no wish to engage in another full-scale war with such a formidable opponent. Both sides were fairly decimated after the last encounter and it has taken months to recover from everything that transpired. I know this is a poor excuse to one whose people are fighting valiantly for freedom, but the bureaucracy demands non-action at this time. This situation is subject to change, but our hands are tied just now.”

 

“Do nothing. Remember. Do. Nothing. I say this because I am well aware of both your temper and engrained loyalty to your people. These two things coupled make a dangerous, explosive combination that will not serve you well right now. Despite that, I must share some distressing news with you. I entreat you to ‘do nothing’ even as I know what your reaction will be. Still, I think you have a right to know and should hear it from me rather than having the shock of discovery later when you may not be as prepared to check your emotions.”

 

“The U.S.S. Saladin recently reported a disturbance in the Salin system. Upon investigation, they found that the entire planet had been destroyed, obliterating whatever Al-Ucardian force was present there. We can hope that the base had not been in use for some time or that it had been recently abandoned, but no one can be certain exactly what transpired. And though we assume that this was caused by the Scorpiad, we cannot be certain of that either. None of the information we have on them hints that they possess a weapon of this magnitude. If you have knowledge of such power, we need this information sent to us Priority One.”

 

“So in closing, let me remind you to ‘do nothing’. I know you’ll get tired of hearing that, but I cannot stress it enough. You are too valuable an asset to us for you to fling yourself into the first battle you can find without considering the consequences. And please do not attempt to finagle your way off the ship by approaching Captain Corizon. I have informed him of these same events so that he is fully aware of the situation. Don’t do anything stupid. I would very much like to see you again so we can continue our interesting discussions.”

 

“Until our next encounter, I wish you well. Doctor Ethan McConnell, Captain. Starfleet Intelligence, Earth.”

 

“Pompous ass,” Victria grated out as she threw a chair at the view screen.