Jaruq/Trichon Log -- 37906.18

[Thomas Jaruq 0]

If there was one thing in the universe Thomas hated more than water, it was Sickbay.  Not for the typical reasons that most Starfleet officers hate Sickbay--the chilled instruments, the week-long bed-stays, the blood extractions.  The reason Thomas hated Sickbay was that it violated one of the race traits that came inherently to any Felinian ... his self reliance.  Being aided was simply against his nature.

      Thomas finished his tinkering with one of the medical tricorders he had swiped from a tray on his way to this private cubicle, then looked around the small room.  It wasn't a horrible fate being stuck here.  A nice comfortable biobed, the rythmic beeping of biomonitors on a console next to his pillow, a lovely white ceiling ...

      Nah, definitely ditchable.

      "Catch!"  He tossed the tricorder over the wall of the cubicle, and then listened as it crashed against the floor of the next one.  He shook his head.  "You need to work on your reflexes, Ensign."

      "Sorry, sir."  Trichon's response came over the wall.  Jaruq could hear him fumbling with the tricorder.  "Now ... how do I do this again?"

      "Simple.  First, just turn the tric on yourself and hit the 'bioscan' key, then the 'record' key."

      "Ok ... scanning ... recording ..."

      "Good.  Now let it run for a few seconds."  Jaruq was now seated in front of his own biomonitor's control console, using it to hack into the Sickbay records.  The medical systems were protected, to a degree, but all by standard Starfleet security programs.  It was nothing Jaruq couldn't handle with a bit of effort.  "That should do it. Hit the 'end' key."

      "... umm ... it's still scanning."

      "Not scanning.  Just looping back and playing what you recorded.  Part of my modification ... it'll keep doing that.  Now, hook it up to the biomonitor."  Jaruq found the current records and listed them on the screen.  Sure enough, there were his and Trichon's names listed as rehabbing in private recovery cubicles for three hours with 'No Disturbance' instructions.  With a few keystrokes, Jaruq modified the record.  It now showed Jaruq and Trichon rehabbing for eight hours.

      "Hooked up ..."  Trichon's voice said.

      Jaruq grinned.  "Excellent.  Now you'll need to make some modifications to the biomonitor's pattern recognition module.  It's not as easy to fool as just looping a ten second bioscan ... it would notice the pattern and send an alarm back to the main bay."  Jaruq cleared the records from his screen and looked at the repeating bioscans on his own monitor.

      "I see what you're saying.  I think I can manage to work around it."

      "The module will recognize two things ... one, the break when the signal you recorded loops back to the beginning and, two, the signal's repetition.  You need to bypass both.  If it recognizes either one, it will be considered a glitch, and the medical chief will be notified.  Bad for us.  Watch out for the security software"  He heard Trichon release a deep breath, and the sound of his fingers working at the console.

      This would be, partially, a test of the Ensign's abilities.  If he succeeded, it would be a deed worthy of commendation.  If he failed, security alarms would sound all over Sickbay and they'd probably find themselves transferred from the recovery cubicles to brig cells.  Jaruq's standing on the ship was already in the dumpster, what with Captain Moose hearing the comments he made when he was floating in space, so he had nothing to lose.  This Trichon on the other hand ...

      Jaruq believed that true strength could be forged by challenges ripe with danger.  This was a very Felinian belief, Jaruq knew.  But the life of an engineer is, typically, not a dangerous life.  Security officers, who often found themselves in the heat of battle, could test their mettle with the threat of death looming over their heads.  This challenge that Jaruq bestowed upon Trichon was no life-or-death scenario, but it provided its own level of danger.  He was sure Trichon was aware of the danger ... but that was the point.  Either the Ensign would emerge victorious from a risky situation, or he would spend a few days in the brig nursing the moral wounds that he would know he inflicted upon himself by following Jaruq's idiotic scheme.  Either way, he would benefit from the experience.

      "I think that should do it."  Jaruq could hear that Trichon's voice was reserved.  He was unsure of himself.  That was something he would need to grow out of ...

      "Are you certain?"  Jaruq asked slyly, allowing a moment for the trepidation to sink in.  Before the Ensign could respond, he said, "Send the tricorder feed to the biomonitor."

      "Right."  A beep sounded over the wall between the cubicles.

      No alarms.  Trichon's biomonitor did not recognize the intrusion of the tricorder signal, which meant that he had succeeded at making that particular modification.  Now, would it recognize the repetition?  Jaruq waited.  The seconds passed.  Only the beeping of the biomonitors could be heard, until ...

      "The signal just repeated.  I guess it worked."

      "Great.  We've got eight hours until the docs come here to wake us up.  They shouldn't go near these cubicles until then."  Jaruq pulled aside the curtain and poked his head out.  The coast was clear.  He tiptoed through the opening and shut the curtain behind him.  "It's safe.  Come on."

      Trichon emerged from his own cubicle.  It appeared as if he had been sweating.  "Now what?  If we try to leave through the entrance, we'll be spotted."

      Jaruq walked over and patted him on the back.  "Another lesson you'll need to learn, Ensign, is the location of every Jefferies Tube access hatch on the ship, including the ones I'm going the show you ... the ones only we engineers are aware of."  He showed Trichon a toothy grin   "Just follow me."  He pointed at the entrance of a supply closet nearby and lead the way to a stealthy escape ...