A Possible Third Party

[John Randall 0]

OFFICIAL LOG

LIEUTENANT JOHN RANDALL

USS CHALLENGER

 

(Personal Log Stardate 11407.21)

 

John awakened from sleep in his quarters. He checked the chronometer, and was surprised to see he had slept for 11 hours.

He got out of bed, and headed to the shower. Fifteen minutes later, he exited, toweled off, and went to the bedroom to put on

a fresh uniform. He made his breakfast drink, and sat down at his computer terminal. He logged in, and requested a status

update on Challenger's current mission. The fighting had escalated on the planet, and Captain Ja'Lale was trying to get the

leaders of the opposing nations to sit down for a negotiation, but wasn't having much luck.

 

John also read that the probes sent to the planet to try to shore up communications were having problems again, and swore

under his breath. He now knew what the day had in store for him. He logged off, and left his cabin, heading for the turbolift.

"Deck 12," he snapped as he entered, and the lift sped off. He arrived at his destination, and exited the lift. He went along

the corridor toward engineering, nodding at crewpersons along the way. He arrived at engineering, and strode through the

doors. The crew greeted him as he made his way in, and he acknowledged them. He made his way to his station, and sat

down at his terminal. He logged in for duty, and took the conn from Lieutenant (j.g.) Steve Davis.

 

He pulled up the reports from the delta shift, and read them. He then requested a status update from the computer, but

nothing much new had occurred. He then arose, and made his way to the main console, sitting down at a terminal. An

ensign showed him the current status of the probes, along with the engines and systems, and he nodded thanks. He was

gratified to see that his idea of using the navigational shields to help shore up communications was still holding up, but

the probes themselves were in need of reprogramming. Ensign Susan Maloney was in charge of that task, and John

nodded to her, asking if she required assistance. The ensign nodded gratefully, and John smiled at her. They began

working together to reprogram and realign the probes.

 

A little while later, Randall and Maloney completed the task, and the female ensign thanked him for his help. John smiled

at her, and told the rest of the team to carry on. He went back to his station, and pulled up the program showing the status

of the nav shields. To his dismay, the port side nav shields were down 25% over the last three hours. He sat there thinking

a moment, then looked over to the main console where Lieutenant (j.g.) Jeff Michaels had reported in, and was helping the

team there. John arose from his terminal, and walked over to his friend.

 

"Hey, Jeff," he said as he approached, and Michaels looked up briefly at his friend. "Hey, Lieutenant," he said. "Jeff, the nav

shielding on the port side has dropped 25% in the last three hours," said Randall. Michaels looked up at him, puzzlement

on his face. "How did that happen, John?" he asked, and Randall shrugged. "Not sure at this time," he answered. "Take a

team to the upper deck of engineering, and check on the generator." "Aye, sir," replied Michaels, and quickly pointed a

t three of the ensigns. The team headed for the warp core elevator, and John sat back down at the main console to

supervise the remainder of the team.

 

Around a half hour later, Michaels' voice came over the comm. "Michaels to Randall," it said, and John answered.

"Lieutenant, the panel regulating the generator was completely fried, sir," the junior grade lieutenant reported, and

a frown appeared on John's face. "That's not all, John," continued his friend. "We analyzed the panel, and it was fried

by some sort of a transtator feedback through it, shorting it out." John sat up straighter in his chair at that report.

"Transtator feedback?" he queried. "Source?" "Unknown at this time, sir," answered Michaels. "Very well," replied the

assistant chief engineer. "Report back to your stations." "Aye, sir," said Michaels. "Team returning. Michaels out."

 

John sat there, a puzzled frown on his face, which was making the ensigns at the main console nervous, though he was

not aware of it. They kept sneaking glances at their commanding officer, who was obviously deep in thought about

something. John was turning over in his mind the possible causes of transtator feedbacks. A few moments later, an

answer hit him like a phaser bolt, bringing him bolt upright in his chair. The ensigns around the console reacted to him,

but he waved his hand, letting them know they were all right. He wondered for a moment about contacting someone, and

then came up with an idea. He would send an e-mail to the navigational officer of the Challenger, Lieutenant H.G. Reed,

to modify the short range sensors. A scan needed to be done to verify the possibility of some sort of tracing beam that

was locked into the data stream coming from the probes to the ship. 'Someone is monitoring our communications,' he

thought to himself as he composed the e-mail, then sent it to the navigation console on the bridge. 'It's incompatible with

our data stream, and that's what caused the transtator feedback,' he thought.

 

The team headed by Michaels re-entered engineering, and went to their stations. John caught his friend's eye, and

beckoned him over. Michaels went over to him. John motioned him to sit down, then leaned over to him, speaking in

a low voice. "Jeff, someone is monitoring our communications," he said, and his friend's eyes widened. "You're sure,

John?" he asked, and Randall nodded. "And it's not coming from the planet," he finished, and the two friends sat there,

staring at each other.

 

END LOG