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Ens Countrymouth - "A Grave and Dark-Clad Company"

Posted on 2016-07-26 09:10 by Ensign Horan Countrymouth
Edited on on 2016-07-26 09:17

Mission: Black, White & Red All Over
Location: Earth

Horan sat at his terminal, browsing through the photos he had taken on his evening walk along the bay. He adjusted the levels and curves and white balance a bit of almost every photo, almost automatically. The cafes and evening colors of the bay front had allowed for numerous photo ops, and he had spent a good hour taking pictures.
The cameras he could buy could capture whatever he fancied as holographic projections, or even 3-dimensional bursts of color. But he preferred the frozen motion of stills. His camera was almost vintage, but he swore by it. He had hacked it a bit so it could read isolinear chips, and he almost never had to worry about running out of storage space.

The dorm was quiet at the hour. The silence was broken only by the soft snores of his bunkmate, who looked like a heap under his sheets.

Horan needed the quiet to chalk out a plan. Under the camera cable, he could see the glint of the isolinear chip that Sienna had given him. He was almost sure which terminal he would be using to get the data she needed. He had thought about it the instant Sienna had mentioned 'the terminal has to be in the secured intranet of intelligence'. That same realization had led him to go on the photography spree and get some pictures he could use.

In a few quick swipes over a PADD, he downloaded the tutoring schedule of a certain professor and marked out a few lines. The he got ready for bed, feeling rather silly about his elaborate plan for something that would be mostly mundane.


The terminals in the academy and the dorms were not part of the intelligence intranet. The easiest way to access one was in the area just inside the HQ administrative section, or the staff computers in the library. However, a Starfleet Academy candidate sitting on a terminal there would definitely arouse suspicion.
And so he waited outside one of the training halls of the Academy, twiddling the isolinear chip between his fingers. He had managed to squeeze a few photographs on the chip.

He glanced at the time every few moments, keeping an eye on a classroom door some distance away. As far as he remembered, the professor took a few minutes for due assignments and general bater after class. Horan waited a few minutes after the class end time, and then casually started walking towards the door. He hoped the professor would walk out just as he was passing -- having to linger or walk ahead and turn back would be awkward. Luckily, the professor walked out of the classroom door just as Horan arrived - and they almost bumped into each other. Perfect.

"Professor Rihl!" Horan feigned surprise.

The small Trill man turned around and was genuinely pleased to see Horan. "Horan Countrymouth! How have you been son!"

"I am doing excellently well, professor. How have you been?"

The small professor and Horan started walking along the corridor. Emom Rihl taught Trill at the Academy part-time and worked in the Trill Ambassador's office. Horan had been in his class, and had been good at picking up the language. The professor also had discovered still photography from Horan, and was fascinated by it. He loved to take back photos of Earth to his home-planet and hang them around his house.

"Just fine. Just a few months to go for the annual trip home." the professor smiled wistfully.

Horan found the break he needed. Lady luck had been generous with him today.

"Then do I have something for you!" Horan said, pulling out the isolinear chip. "A few photos of the bay front I took last evening."

The professor made a move to take the isolinear chip. "Well that's quite a co-incidence!" he remarked.

"Uh, prof, I cannot lend the chip to you, it's got some stuff I need to look at tonight. We could upload the photos to your personal archive from one of those terminals there though." Horan pointed at the array of terminals inside the academy library.

"I have a better idea." Rihl said, "Let's go to my chambers and do it."

Horan had not thought of this. Although he was willing to put the chip in a public terminal, he did not want to risk the prof's neck in case the data theft was caught. It could be easily tracked to the prof's terminal.

"Actually prof I really need to be somewhere. We can pop in into the library and copy them. Saves time for both of us." Horan begged.

"Oh alright, you people are always in a hurry." the professor started walking towards the library. Being with a professor, nobody asked for any ID, or make an entry in the visitor log for Horan.
Horan found a terminal in a corner, next to another one which someone had just left. The screen was still on. Horan knew that if someone decided to get to the bottom of things, they could trace exactly which terminal had been used to deploy the program. The fact that they were not in the visitor log made it a bit safe.

Horan turned on the terminal and popped in the chip. He realized then he hadn't asked Sienna how long would the program need to do it's job. He cursed himself for the oversight.

He hoped the program would do his job, while he browsed the contents and pulled up the photographs. The professor smiled appreciatively, and proceeded to login and copy them to his personal archive. The whole thing took less than two minutes. "Well, quick as you said. Let's go."

Horan wasn't sure the program had run, but he had no choice. He popped out the chip and walked out of the library.

"Okay professor, I better run." he said, keeping up the act.

"See you around, Horan." the old trill man had started walking towards his chambers. Horan felt a pang of guilt for using him, but he promised to make it up to the prof and tell him about it if what Sienna had said about the traitor ever came to light. For now, he hoped the program had worked.

He turned around and made his way to the bayfront for a quiet drink.

=/\= End Log =/\=

Ensign Horan Countrymouth
Infiltration Specialist
USS Joshua Norton

NPC by Harshad: Professor Emom Rihl, Ad-Hoc Professor


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