Ad Astra

Posted on 31 Mar 2015 @ 8:31pm by Ensign Ibrahim Dragovic

2,252 words; about a 11 minute read

Mission: Episode 08 - NIMBUS
Location: USS Galileo, Deck 7, Astrometrics
Timeline: MD-3 - 1345 Hours

ON:

Though notionally on shore leave, all the talk of the prototype deflector got Ibrahim to thinking about other potential uses of the advanced prototype. He found himself in the Astrometrics Lab, running some calculations on deflector performance in various navigational hazard scenarios. Of course, since the crew was actually on shore leave, he took advantage of the opportunity to wear his typical civilian dress of jeans and a graphic tee with the logo of some inscrutable Novan pop culture reference, exposing part of his nautically themed half-sleeve tattoo. Plus, if his understanding of the manifest was correct, the lab could get pretty crowded when the crew came back on duty, and so the ship's near abandonment seemed like an ideal time to work on his pet project.

After what seemed like hours typing simulation specifications into the console, Ibrahim leaned back into his chair and rubbed the strain from his eyes. "Computer, run 200 instances of simulation Zeta 921, set the Galileo's speed at warp 6 and increase nebular density by 2 percent in each successive instance, please. And an ETA on that calculation."

"Calculation will be complete in... twenty... nine... minutes and... five... seconds," it responded in its annoyingly mechanical voice.

Longer than he expected, Ibrahim sighed and rolled his chair over to the far counter where he left his coffee. Grabbing it, he leaned back and put his feet on the desk as he took and long drink. Might as well get comfortable, he thought.

Never having been to astrometrics before, Wintrow had actually gotten lost on the way once or twice. Despite this being a very small ship, apparently, that was still quite possible. Carrying a single PADD, the boy finally walked inside and stood watching for a little while. He noticed the man in casual dress and arched a single eyebrow, then gave himself a once-over. He was in uniform, because he'd been on duty in the morning and would be getting off in about fifteen minutes.

Dark eyes still on the sole occupant of the area, he waited until the man had set down his cup again before clearing his throat to get his attention. "Sir?" he queried, hoping not to startle him.

Ibrahim spun the chair around towards the sound. "Oh, hey, I didn't see you there." He maintained eye contact for a few moments before realizing what he was supposed to do. He stood up and approached the younger man. "I was distracted thinking about some science nerd stuff." He extended a hand and smiled amicably. "Ibrahim. Friends call me Eebs."

"Eebs?" Wintrow tried, arching both eyebrows in surprise. Then, he shook his head, accepting the offered hand. Briefly. "That sounds so wrong," he admitted with a shy smile. "Wintrow Paragon, though most call me Win because it's all rather a mouthful." He feebly gestured towards the console. "What were you doing?"

Ibrahim looked over his shoulder back at the console. "Hmm? Oh, I had a little orientation session of sorts with Commanders Kohl and Stace yesterday and the topic of the new prototype deflector's capabilities came up, so I was just running some simulations." He turned back to the younger man. "You one of the cartographers?"

"Me?" Wintrow shook his head. "Oh no sir...I'm a support craft pilot." He indicated his uniform. "I haven't even graduated the academy yet. But I do would like to learn more about cartography. I know how to read a starmap, but I'd like to learn more. What if my equipment fails, how would I go about orienting myself on where to go?"

"Ah, looking for a little cross disciplinary education eh? In that case come in, make yourself at home." Ibrahim turned and made his way back towards his chair. "Honestly, I just graduated myself a few weeks ago," he said over his shoulder before plopping himself bodily into the chair, sending it rolling backwards into the desk. "Were you on the San Fran campus last year? You know Jimmy Cho? He should be a senior now, but he's in Flight Control."

"No sir, I spent the last two years on the USS Sarek, as an apprentice fighter pilot."

"Ah well, you weren't missing much, he was kind of a tool. Also, feel free to nix the 'yes sir no sir oo-rah' business with me. Unless there's brass around. Can't have them thinking we're having too much fun," Ibrahim said with a wink.

"In any event, yes, shuttle navigation. I know a thing or two about shuttle systems going offline... So basically the main thing to do if your long range sensors give out is to use your short range sensors to detect and analyze stellar wind, so that you can extrapolate distances and directions to nearby stars." He reached for his mug on the desk. "Of course when we talk about 'nearby' in astrometric terms, that's about three to five hundred light years away, depending on what sensor suite your shuttle is equipped with. Er, I was just assigned to the Gally a week or two ago, what kind of shuttles do we have here? Type 9? And a Danube runabout?"

"I think so yes. I did my shuttle qualifications a couple of weeks ago and I passed. I also prefer to maintenance what I fly but now with a possibility of sensors giving out, I'd like to know what to do." He paused, not wanting to seem dumb. "What are stellar winds?"

Ibrahim was surprised only for a moment, and hoped it didn't show. Not everyone had taken astrophysics courses, and hell if he knew how to fly a shuttle after all. "Ah, well... Imagine a campfire, yeah? It gives off smoke. Stars of course don't 'burn' exactly - it's a nuclear reaction - but the principle is the same: the process turns regular matter into energy and a waste byproduct. As stars 'burn' they project out waste particles, usually leftover protons and electrons but also certain types of gases. sort of how a campfire lets out smoke. So imagine you're in a deep, dark forest, blindfolded but with a superpowered sense of smell. Obviously the easiest thing to do would be to just look around, but if you can't for some reason, you could find campfires by literally following your nose. Such is stellar wind navigation with just short range sensors and no long range sensor capability."

He took a drink and set te mug back down, leaning forward his elbows on his knees. "And the type of star can be identified by the speed of the particles as well as the type - sub-atomic particles, charged gases, and so on. So if you're somewhere and you know there is a Federation outpost in a system with a main sequence star within 300 or so light years, you can cross-reference the speeds and makeups of the wind particles to find which ones match up, and just fly towards them. And just like smoke, the density helps determine distance. As the smell gets stronger, you know you're getting closer. Make sense?"

"So...in order for this to work you'd have to be near a star system then right?" the teenager asked, while making notes on his PADD. "What if I'm in the middle of nowhere?"

Ibrahim leaned back and clasped his hands on top of his bald head. "Well 'near' in this case means a few hundred light years, and there's not many places in the Alpha quadrant where you'd be further than that from any kind of star. If you happened to be in such a place, or in a frontier region without reliable star charts, you could tune the short range sensors to Sagitarrius A's frequency. Ah, Sagitarrius A being the source of radio waves at the center of the galaxy. Then you would at least know what direction the galaxy's center is in, and from there make your way back to civilization, where you could pick up ionic wakes left by other ships, or follow stellar winds. All this assumes your comms are either also knocked out or out of range, of course."

"Galaxy radio," Wintrow chuckled, "I like that one. I'll have to remember that." He made another few notes. "Have you ever been in such a situation? You know so much about it!"

"Ah... not precisely..." Ibrahim murmured, his tone suddenly somber as unwelcome images of the fatal shuttle accident that left him the sole survivor of an away team bubbled up in his mind. "Although I do know how fragile a shuttle's systems can be..." Not wanting to bring the mood down, he perked back up as he changed subject. "That's all knowledge gained the old fashioned way, hundreds of hours of boring Academy lectures and late night study sessions. I'm sure you know just as much about piloting. Or at least you will once you graduate."

Sensing the shift of mood however, Wintrow looked away briefly, feeling as if somehow he'd trespassed. At the change of subject, he nodded. "I learned all I know while on the job though," he explained, "I've never physically attended Starfleet Academy. And I have two years to go."

"Makes sense, I'm sure the flight control curriculum requires much more hands-on education than the sciences." He set his now empty mug on the desk. "Anyway, that's about the most I can think of as far as navigating a shuttle without long range sensors. If both long and short range sensors give out, you don't have many options besides a distress signal. Did you have any other questions?"

Wintrow nodded. "How did you choose your current field?"

Ibrahim leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "Same as everyone else. Lot of staring at the stars as a kid, imagining all the different worlds out there. Always liked maps too, old nautical charts and star charts alike. Turned out I had a knack for the science, too. There are astronomers where I'm from, and a few civilian interstellar shipping companies, but Starfleet seemed like the only place where I could make a living being a real explorer." His eyes snapped back to Wintrow's. "In theory at least. Seems like Starfleet is becoming more militarized every day. But it is what it is, right?"

The boy nodded. "I know how to navigate by stars when I'm on water," he admitted. "I actually have a small boat, back on Earth...a gift from my dad when I was younger."

"Ha!" Ibrahim barked. "No kidding? My ancestor were maritime explorers in early Terra Novan history. Space is much more like the sea than most people realize, between stellar winds, gravitational currents, subspace eddies, and so on. Sounds like you're halfway there already."

"Really?" Wintrow had never really looked at it that way but now that someone literally told him, it actually made sense. "Are stellar winds visible on a shuttle's sensors?"

Ibrahim bobbed his head from side to side in his homeworld's distinctive 'so-so' gesture. "Perhaps visible is the wrong word. More like 'detectable,' there's a fair amount of fine-tuning first. Sailing on stellar winds is also possible - Bajor's ancient lightships being the most famous example - but compared to modern propulsion it's terribly slow and more than a little unsafe."

The boy's eyes lit up with interest. "It is? Oh I'd love to try that sometime! And what would I have to do, to let my shuttle's sensors pick them up? Or any other craft I fly?"

"Set the short range sensor's frequency to maximum, for molecular readings, and set it on an oscillating narrow band scan. Then track a article's movement over successive scans, giving you a direction. I would assume that a shuttle's computer would have specifications on stellar wind specifics would should help out with the rest."

"Hmm it's worth a try, perhaps try it out in a simulator sometime....would you help me if I can get the holodeck time to train for it?"

Ibrahim winced slightly at the thought of being on another shuttle, even a simulated. He had always been a touch queasy about them since the accident, but maybe he could use simulations to gradually overcome his fear. "Ah, sure. Yeah, of course. I've heard that some holo-simulations run simplified algorithms for things like stellar wind to save processor power, so for authenticity's sake we'll have to make sure it's one that doesn't."

"I'm sure I can get someone to help me with the program," Wintrow promised, studying the man for a moment. "Are you alright sir?" he asked, having observed the wince, and a brief change in the emotions he picked up on.

Ibrahim blinked a moment. "Mmm? Oh, yes, I'm fine, thanks."

"Calculations... complete," the computer chirped from the console behind him.

Ibrahim looked over his shoulder. "Ah, yes, I suppose I should be getting back..." he absently muttered to himself. He turned to Wintrow with a smile and slapped his hands on both knees. "Well, sorry if I'm cutting your visit short, but I should check on those." He stood and extended a hand.

For a moment, Wintrow looked at the offered hand, then took a small step back. "I'm an empath sir, it's probably best if I don't touch you." He smiled slightly. "But thank you so much for a very useful lesson in navigation sir, I really appreciate that."

OFF:
Cadet SO Wintrow Paragon
Support Craft Pilot
USS Galileo

Ensign Ibrahim Dragovic
Astrometrics
USS Galileo

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