Rawel's Logs

[Tachyon 0]

Henry Rawel, chief programmer for the Challenger's computers had just finished the entire base programming.

 

His workload had been considerably eased by the fact that he had four other NX class starships to model this computer after. The difficult part had been incorporating the latest advances in computer technology, and the strict security procautions Starfleet had updated.

 

His team, alongside the dedicated Starfleet engineers, were preparing the advanced programming. This would include ship-specific programs, such as the praise-worthy sensor module being installed on the Challenger. Rawel also looked forward to the new database design that would be installed.

 

Although he was very tired from feverishly working late nights, the project was proceeding smoothly. As of yet none of the advanced systems had been integrated with the ship, they still resided in the Starfleet HQ lab facilities and were reduced to performing mere simulations. Once the ship was completely spaceworthy, the computer would be installed and it would be ready for testing.

 

Rawel mused over this as he walked into the lab that morning, ready to implement some new codes he had dreamed up during his sleep. Luckily they would solve that nasty fatal loop that had cropped up.

 

-----

 

This is my first log, ever. I welcome comments and suggestions, as well as corrections if I got any of the details wrong. Eg; when the computer would be installed.

 

If you haven't read my bio, I invite anyone to assume the role of one of the six members of Rawel's team, or of any Starfleet Engineer assigned to work alongside the computer programmers. Go ahead, I urge you.

[Commodore Moose 0]

This is my first log, ever. I welcome comments and suggestions

It was a great log, Tach. Especially for a first time.

 

My only advise is to keep them coming. : ) Thanks for joining in the Challenger Project.

 

Moose

[Tachyon 0]

Ah, that was the disk!

 

Rawel was slightly eccentric. By this, the author (a Supreme Being of your choice) does not mean that he prefers mismatching socks. Or that he enjoys arming fish with tiny pieces of paper and teaching them to fight for entertainment (that would be just wrong).

 

No, Rawel was eccentric in that the most valuable, the most secret, and the most important parts of the Challenger computer were stored on small disks that were currently stuck beneath his kitchen table. He had no theory as to how this had happened, save that his next door neighbour was very interested in gravity and . . . antigravity.

 

Whatever the cause, Rawel could routinely be observed (by any Supreme Being who cared to watch) crouching down and peering beneath his kitchen table, hunting for the right disk. Then he would battle with the table for possesion of said disk, and take said disk to the lab.

 

His assistants said nothing about this, mostly because they realized that he had deserved the right to be eccentric. That was why Rawel did not fly into a rage when one of his assistants explained why the Challenger computer was currently unavailable.

 

"It's calculating pi?!!!" Rawel repeated in a quasi-rage state.

 

"Yes," replied the assistant meekly. "I wanted to test its mathematical capabilities, and told it to calculate . . . well . . ." The assistant went on to explain how the lunch orders person had come around at the time he was dictating to the computer, and that he had ordered a large slice of pie.

 

Needless to say, Rawel told the computer to stop calculating pi and start absorbing the programming on the disk.

 

A delivery person came to door. "Package for . . ." she read from a PADD . . . "some 'other guy'."

 

Rawel came forward. "That would be me." He had earned the nickname after it was clear at Starberg that he would never amount to anything. It had stuck even after the company made millions off Moatis.

 

Rawel signed for the package and took it from the delivery person, who left with a smug, unnoticed smile. Oblivious to this, Rawel opened the package.

 

Inside was a note . . . on paper. Although not unheard of--Rawel himself used paper for some equations--it was still more efficient to use a PADD, or the Net. The note just said:

 

Nine O'Clock. The Roaring Chicken. Be there . . . Afterhours.

 

Rawel crumpled up the note. It was important, yes it was. There were only a few people in this universe who knew what the letter A in his name stood for, what his middle name was . . . .

Edited June 6, 2004 by Tachyon

[Tachyon 0]

June 8, 2157.

 

Rawel returned to his labs the next morning, unable and unwanting to think about his meeting last night. But he did anyway. There were rebels on Earth, and his sister was one of them. He had no clue what she was up to, but he knew that it would not benefit the Challenger Project.

 

Just like a computer programmer, he clearly outlined his options, of which he had three. He could join the rebels and sabotage the Challenger. He could betray the rebels to Starfleet. Or he could just stay out of the conflict.

 

Rawel knew that it was his duty to report the rebels, but knowing your duty and actually going through with it are two different things. He would be much more comfortable just staying out of the conflict. Some how, however, he knew that he would not be able to afford to remain neutral.

 

With a sigh, Rawel tried to focus on his latest problem. The Challenger computer was a work of art, but it still had many flaws, the latest of which was a recursive loop which occurred whenever he tried to operate the "transporter." The computer automatically simulated a transporter operation, but then began to run incessant diagnostics on the life support systems.

 

Although he couldn't focus, he found the source--no pun intended--of the problem. As usual, it was a coding error that was entirely human generated. But he didn't remember putting it there. So had one of his assistants directly modified it, or did somebody else?

 

Rawel accessed the log on the computer that was his interface to the actual Challenger software. Apparently, an anonymous person had made changes to this code last night during his visit to the Roaring Chicken.

 

Fascinated, Rawel instructed the computer to continue the simulation. As he watched in horror, the computer continued in its loop, adding functions until it would no longer respond to any exterior commands. Eventually it locked up and refused to work at all, shutting down so that the ship was doomed from power and life support failures.

 

It had not been a mistake, a flaw, an error. Someone was deliberately rewriting the Challenger code, and now Rawel had to comb through every gigabyte of information. It was not a job to which he looked forward.

 

But he had learned that he could trust no one.

[Dumbass 0]

"It's calculating pi?!!!" Rawel repeated in a quasi-rage state.

 

"Yes," replied the assistant meekly. "I wanted to test its mathematical capabilities, and told it to calculate . . . well . . ." The assistant went on to explain how the lunch orders person had come around at the time he was dictating to the computer, and that he had ordered a large slice of pie.

::ROTFLMAO:: I just read this now.

[Tachyon 0]

He spent days feverishly working on this computer project. Rawel had made a cursory report to the project head, stating that he had found errors in the code that may have been deliberate. However, he was trying to avoid a visit from either Cdr. Moore or Starfleet Security.

 

The most vexing problem was answering the question: How did that person gain access? It was not like the most important computer on Earth could just be accessed by anyone who sat down at the console. He had run over the security subroutines, but nothing had been bypassed. Whoever made the changes had either been extremely competent -- which was a rarity these days -- or had already been given access.

 

Rawel dug deeper into the program files, examining every byte of code for flaws, errors, and sabotage. He discovered more fatal loops as he continued to dig to the key programming, where he was shocked to find that the key program module had been completely overridden with a new module.

 

That was technically impossible. Firstly, the only people who had access to that module were Cdr. Moore and Rawel himself. Not even one of his assistants could have accessed it. And even someone with access could not write to the module, it was a hardwired program. It could only be viewed, not modified, copied, or deleted.

 

Luckily, he had a backup module on a disk stuck to the underside of his kitchen table. Hopefully he could find some way of installing the module without having to completely wipe the computer database. Otherwise, the entire project would be set back.

 

Now it was no longer a problem, it was a threat. As Rawel examined the key module, he found that everything had been changed in a way that only a skilled computer programmer would notice. There were some discrepancies that even he did not catch, because even he could not memorize every bit of code in the program.

 

Silently, Rawel shut off the computer and locked the lab, returning home for some rare sleep and to retrieve that disk. He knew that he would have to notify Cdr. Moore now, the threat had escalated to serious proportions. Someone was able to access their computers and overwrite even their most secure programs.

 

The thought that it might be from an alien source never even crossed Rawel's mind.

 

----------

 

Well, although I'm currently expanding the rebel movement (along with Trichon), it's still important that our various alien antagonists get a chance to mess up the Challenger Project. So which alien species has the technology to stun our complex computers.

 

::Takes out spinner and spins the spinner::

 

And the winner is . . . ah, someone else choose. Because I doubt that even the rebels have the expertise to hack into a program buried deep in a read-protected error, and then rewrite the supposedly unwritable program. So it must be aliens, logically . . .

[Dumbass 0]

And the winner is . . . ah, someone else choose. Because I doubt that even the rebels have the expertise to hack into a program buried deep in a read-protected error, and then rewrite the supposedly unwritable program. So it must be aliens, logically . . .

Why would aliens know Earth programing language better than Humans?

[Tachyon 0]

Why would aliens know Earth programing language better than Humans?

I'll tell you why. This is a little story that is entirely unrelated, and completely ignores the fact that the obvious answer is: Because their computers can do it for them.

 

Microsoft, that insidious corporation, outsourced all of its work to third-world (or is that third-galaxy?) alien planets, thereby reaping huge profits while lowering the GDP of Earth. Muwahahaha!

 

Then, many years later, more techonologically advanced aliens came and conquered the third-galaxy planets. These conquerors forced the terrified aliens to teach them the infamous programming languages used by Microsoft. The aliens meekly submitted, teaching their conquerors everything there was to know about Earth computation techniques.

 

Then it came to the point that the conquerors, being outside observers, could see the big picture. They realized that humans don't have a heck of a clue what they're doing when they write computer programs. So the idea came that they could secretly overwrite some programs, thereby gaining control. (After paying generous royalties as part of their secret alliance with Microsoft, of course.)

[Chaka 0]

Well, with those generous royalties and licensing fees, wouldn't Earth's GDP increase again?

[Tachyon 0]

Sure. In a million Microsoft years, maybe. As if Microsoft would really let any of their . . . transactions . . . be recorded. Hah.

 

Actually, yes our GDP is increased by Microsoft's lucrative production of computers. As you can see throughout the series (that's plural), Microsoft has standardized the entire Federation . . . even the Vulcans (although they get Microsoft Vulcans, not Microsoft Windows).

[Chaka 0]

Gee, and all this time I thought Starfleet used Lcars.

[Tachyon 0]

That's what they want you to think (it's Microsoft's new acronym). ^_^

[Tachyon 0]

First: If you haven't read Rawel's brusque memo to Cdr Moore, you should.

 

Second . . . never mind.

 

---------

 

Rawel felt better for sounding off like that. At Starberg he had always been used to doing things his own way, the "chain of command" was not his largest concern. As long as he could achieve results. While normally placid, Rawel didn't really care to observe protocol if he had something on his mind. It's always the quiet ones, after all, that you have to watch.

 

So far the increasingly shortening schedule hadn't been that painful. Rawel was used to working alone and late into the nights. But setback after setback was taking its toll, and Rawel's supposed resources weren't very resourceful.

 

He was down to a team of three assistants, all from Starberg, plus himself. The Starfleet engineers supposedly assigned to help him had never shown up, and his Starfleet liason was nowhere in sight. Rawel was essentially on his own.

 

He sighed and sat down, trying to calm himself. "I need to calm down," he said aloud. "Maybe I'll go to the lab. I need to do some work anyway." The best thing was that work would calm him.

 

Or would it? When Rawel arrived at the lab, the security seal on the door was broken. And the inner rooms were completely trashed. Metal beams had fallen from the ceiling, crushing databanks. Months of work . . . ruined.

 

Rawel tapped on a still-functioning communications panel. "Rawel to whoever the heck is in charge of security on this project. Get down here. Now."

 

He sighed and hoped he wouldn't have to write another memo.

[Images 0]

First: If you haven't read Rawel's brusque memo to Cdr Moore, you should.

 

Second . . . never mind.

 

---------

 

Rawel felt better for sounding off like that. At Starberg he had always been used to doing things his own way, the "chain of command" was not his largest concern. As long as he could achieve results. While normally placid, Rawel didn't really care to observe protocol if he had something on his mind. It's always the quiet ones, after all, that you have to watch.

 

So far the increasingly shortening schedule hadn't been that painful. Rawel was used to working alone and late into the nights. But setback after setback was taking its toll, and Rawel's supposed resources weren't very resourceful.

 

He was down to a team of three assistants, all from Starberg, plus himself. The Starfleet engineers supposedly assigned to help him had never shown up, and his Starfleet liason was nowhere in sight. Rawel was essentially on his own.

 

He sighed and sat down, trying to calm himself. "I need to calm down," he said aloud. "Maybe I'll go to the lab. I need to do some work anyway." The best thing was that work would calm him.

 

Or would it? When Rawel arrived at the lab, the security seal on the door was broken. And the inner rooms were completely trashed. Metal beams had fallen from the ceiling, crushing databanks. Months of work . . . ruined.

 

Rawel tapped on a still-functioning communications panel. "Rawel to whoever the heck is in charge of security on this project. Get down here. Now."

 

He sighed and hoped he wouldn't have to write another memo.

ooh spooky. i thought my pair of oh-so-mean klingons were the only current sabatouers in the base. This place is less secure than a new york alley!

[Tachyon 0]

That's because we have no security. If you look on the Project Roster, you'll notice that no one has deigned to become a security guard. So effectively, anyone can walk right in.

 

That is, unless the workers start arming themselves and forming the "Challenger Project Militia" ^_^

[STSF Jorlis 0]

That's because we have no security.

Actually, we do have ourselves an armory crewman. And a weapons expert who can probably work with our engineers to get some security systems installed.

 

Aside from that, we can assume there are some NPC's running around. Anyone can write a log for them. ;)

[Tachyon 0]

Aside from that, we can assume there are some NPC's running around. Anyone can write a log for them. :P

Heh heh. Redshirts . . . expendable redshirts.

 

I like where this is going . . . indeed I do . . . heh heh. ;)

[Tachyon 0]

A security team, clad in blue uniforms with red stripes, arrived after an intolerable interval. <<Expendable redstripes ;) >>

 

Rawel was not happy. The security team made a cursory search, but could not really find anything that could identify the saboteur(s). They even deigned to call in a forensics expert, who's only mentionable input involved spilling coffee on the lab floor.

 

The entire room had been ripped apart. Databanks had been crushed by falling ceiling plates, and burnt out by a long-gone electrical fire. Chairs were overturned, and red lights blinked feebly. The room was dimly light, few interior lights were functioning and the atmosphere was therefore eerie. Had Rawel been less angry, he would have tread carefully around the sharp shadows.

 

Engineers arrived around midafternoon to clean up the mess, but the lab was clearly totalled. Rawel couldn't get to the Challenger software, it had been destroyed. So although he was far from a detective, he knew one thing: whoever had done this was more interested in destroying the computer, rather than stealing its information.

 

But it just didn't make any sense. Why go to the trouble of overwriting computer programs just to destroy the entire system later? Unless . . . could there be two opponent groups? More than two? Just how complex did this web of intrigue become?

 

Rawel returned home while the engineers cleaned up the labs. He searched beneath his kitchen table, peeling off the appropriate disks and studying them. These had enough of Challenger's basic and core programming to get the computer project back on schedule. But if there were any further setbacks, Rawel was at a loss as to how he would cope. He had just never had to deal with these situations before.

 

He dropped the disks into his pocket and went outside, looking up into the stars. He wondered what was up there, how dangerous it was, and what humans had gotten themselves tangled into.

 

Rawel remembered that hasty, surprising reunion with his sister at the Roaring Chicken. He remembered finding the security breaches. And he remembered watching the massacre by the Xindi Probe. He remembered, and fumed.

 

So it was not surprising that when the Netcall chimed, he answered. And it was also not surprising that he showed little hesitation when he saw who was speaking. . . .

 

----

Food for thought, eh?

[Images 0]

rather strange he's so calm when there's a break in and people are getting killed! ;)

[Tachyon 0]

He's pretty pensive right now. As you can see from his brusque memo, he's bottling up a lot of his anger. He's very introspective and is trying to get to grips with these whole other worlds that are literally right on his doorstep.

 

I think that at this moment I'm illustrating how out of touch a lot of humans in the 2150s. Oh sure, there are space-babies like Travis Mayweather, but a lot of humans still haven't set foot on a spaceship. So Rawel is being confronted with things that he's never discovered . . . .

 

So yeah, he's angry. But remember that he's very work-oriented. And so far, no one has been killed. Not a single lab assistant has been crushed, and unfortunately I haven't managed to work in a clever death for an expendable redshirt. Oops, I guess in this era I have to call them redstripes.

[STSF Jorlis 0]

And so far, no one has been killed.

I think Images is referring to the two Klingon intruders.

[Tachyon 0]

Oh. Well, Rawel isn't really paying much attention to the goings on everywhere else, he's been wrapped up solving other problems, such as rewriting the entire source code to the Challenger Project. But if he sees some Klingon's he'll be sure to run the other way.

[Tachyon 0]

Yes, the call that Rawel got was supposed to be very insidious. But that didn't end up happening right now. So I'm sorry to disappoint, but:

 

-----------------

 

Rawel walked into his newly repaired lab on a sunny Wednesday morning, completely oblivious to anything else going on. With renewed determination, he plugged a disk into the terminal and began to swear profusely at the idiotic computer.

 

The ominous call he received had been from the head offices of Starberg Inc., currently located in an undisclosed location for tax purposes. It was from Rawel's old assistant who was temporarily in charge until Rawel finished up the Challenger Project.

 

She said she had heard of the computer failures and wanted to know if Rawel needed any help. Rawel had replied in the negative, but not before she convinced him to let her help reinstall the Challenger software.

 

So Rawel received twenty new assistants from Starberg. It was strange, he recognized none of them, and his old lab assistants didn't either. Anyhow, the new assistants sped up work on the project greatly, and by the end of Tuesday they had Challenger's core programming back online.

 

----Meanwhile, somewhere else----

 

"Did he fall for it?" a voice asked.

 

She replied, "Perfectly. He didn't suspect a thing. It's ironic that we used his software." Rawel had designed an espionage program called NetFayker, which allowed government operatives to completely mask their voices and faces by using false individuals. She had assumed the guise of Rawel's Starberg assistant.

 

"We deployed the operatives yesterday," she smiled. "He thinks they're new lab technicians from Starberg."

 

The other voice, male, laughed softly. She sighed. "Ah, my brother can be quite dense sometimes. I just hope he comes to his senses before it's too late."

[Tachyon 0]

Moving. To Mars.

 

The announcement came as a surprise to Rawel and his staff, much as the Andorian blockade had been a surprise. He had always been sort of out of touch with reality, and external events mattered to him little.

 

"Are we moving to Mars too?" asked one of his technicians.

 

"No," Rawel replied, "we can work on the computer here, moving the project would just set us back even more and cost too much."

 

So that was that. The project stayed in San Francisco, and the technicians continued to build the awesome brains of the Challenger.

[Tachyon 0]

The 'pastry break' had been refreshing, but now the real work had to be done. Starfleet--no, the entire Solar System--was tense about the Andorian blockade. Rawel walked the corridors of the San Francisco lab building, wondering what separated them all. He had never even seen an Andorian until the latest news broadcasts, and those were only videos.

 

His lab assistants took his absence in good humour, although Rawel was not surprised that little work had been accomplished. The twenty lab technicians from Starberg seemed very stiff, and had yet to assimilate into their think tank, so any new work that needed to be done depended upon their cooperation. Supposedly they had been a temporary loan from Starberg, but now Rawel realized the real reason they were here. Starberg wanted 'in' on this project, Starberg wanted to know what Starfleet was doing with their computer technology. Inter-sector espionage was over Rawel's head, however, so he decided to focus on the project.

 

The project. How was the project going? Terribly or wonderfully depending on how you looked at it. That was, until Rawel overheard one conversation that would change his life.

 

------------

 

Before his usual late-night work began, Rawel retrieved some computer disks from home. When he returned to the lab, he was surprised to find one of the lights still on. He was usually the only one around at this time of night.

 

Curious, Rawel approached the lab with caution. It was probably just one of his technicians, he assured himself, but ever since the sabotage had occurred, he was wary. As he rounded the corner, he could see light emanating from the open lab door. Those present were having a conversation.

 

"How goes it?" asked one, with a female voice that seemed awfully familiar.

 

"All is proceeding perfectly. He doesn't suspect a thing." Now that voice was familiar--Rawel recognized it as Owen Banks, one of the new technicians from Starberg.

 

The female voice asked, "And the project?" There were tremors in her voice, and Rawel crept close enough to peak around into the room. Owen Banks and four other Starberg technicians sat around a communications station, where they talked to a familiar face. On the small screen appeared the face of his sister, Robin.

 

Rawel struggled to contain a gasp of surprise. So the Starberg technicians were not Starberg technicians at all--they were spies for the rebels, saboteurs.

 

"Rawel trusted us from the start, and gave us complete write access to the main computer programming. We have corrupted most of the data."

 

"I hope you did a better job than the last idiot we assigned."

 

Owen laughed, "Don't worry, I warned him that he better not mess up again. No, we've made sure our work is nearly untraceable."

 

"Nearly?" Robin's voice sounded skeptical. She had always been a perfectionist.

 

"Whatever your brother is, he's not stupid, just dense. If he knew exactly where to look for our perturbations, then he would find them. Don't worry though, no one will tell him where to look."

 

Rawel slouched against the wall, wondering what he should do. Clearly the rebels had been behind these sabotages all along . . . but now who could he trust. Could he trust his original lab staff? Did he have a choice?

 

"If we encounter problems . . ." Owen left the question hanging, because its content was obvious.

 

His sister's voice closed with, "My brother has refused to see reason. He has remained oblivious to the threat this project embodies. I have no desire to see him harmed, but if it comes down to him and your mission objective . . . complete your mission at all costs."

 

Final betrayal. Whatever doubts Rawel had left in his mind evaporated, whatever reservations about Starfleet's objectives dissipated. Rawel's own sister had put the last straw on the camel's back, to make this project fail.

 

Like his sister, Henry was a perfectionist. And he did not like to fail.

Edited July 14, 2004 by Tachyon