The Grid-Part 2

Posted on Sat Jan 31st, 2026 @ 4:50am by Warrant Officer Emily Douglasdale & Commander Thomas Carey & Lieutenant Commander Mattys Plaatjes & Major T'Ria & Warrant Officer Steve Baxter
Edited on on Mon Feb 2nd, 2026 @ 3:28am

1,892 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Operation Shadow
Location: Various Locations

=The Grid: L'Dira=

Putting a heavy hand on the L'Dira's shoulder, Plaatjes grinned. 'Help is our business.' He shrugged, and sniffed as he considered the options. 'Reconfiguring your entire grid is more than I can do on my own, though. We'll need some additional help - I think I can get an Engineering crew down here pretty quick, and one of our science officers to work through any problems we come up against. How does that sound, friend?'

Yoto looked over and smiled at the engineer. There was a sense of hope that he hadn't felt in a long time. "Thank you so much. Your Federation is nothing like what the Orion's were telling us about. Actually, you are exactly the opposite."

'We and the Orions don't see eye to eye,' Plaatjes replied with a short laugh, 'law and order don't exactly fit well with their business model. The further out we come, and the more planets that join the Federation, the less the Syndicate will be able to control things. The Trading League will do just fine if they stay above board though, plenty of opportunity there for them.' He looked up at the dull grey sky. 'So how about it, should I call my friends in?'

"Yes please. Follow me, I can take you inside to get access to communications."

'Thank you kindly,' Plaatjes replied as they walked into the building. As they stepped through the threshold, he could see that the building was old. Older than he had imagined. A thick coating of dust had settled over everything apart from a narrow channel in the middle of the hallway where L'Dira had been making their way back and forth. The paint was peeling and the walls had cracks in them. He grunted as he followed his guide. This would be some job.

L'Diran workers stared at the stranger who was being escorted through their facility. The looks of their faces was not of hate but more of fascination. Neither individual there had ever been off-world, let alone ever laid eyes on a Human. Among the observers were whispers.

"You're going to have to excuse them Commander," the Advisor apologized. "They have never seen anyone from another world before."

'Oh no, that's quite alright,' Plaatjes said as he favoured those gathered with a smile and wave. 'I imagine we look quite strange to you. You start appreciating that fact once every Andorian you've come across tells you to your face that you look weird. At least no L'Dira have poked me in the face ... yet.'

"That actually happens in an organization as diverse as the Federation?" Reaching the communications panel, he entered the access code. "There you go Commander."

'Thank you,' Plaatjes said with a smile and nod as he leaned towards the screen, keying in the Meridian's hailing frequency.

=Meridian: Bridge=

Steve Baxter had been at communications when a call came down from the surface. "Commander, we have a call coming in from Commander Plaajes from the surface."

"Onscreen." Thomas replied as he looked away from the console he was looking at. The orion had scanned them numerous times, but at minimum strength, and non evasive. He showed no concern, at least at the moment, that they would be attacked by the orions at this time.

'Commander Carey,' Plaatjes' face lit up on seeing their First Officer manning the center chair. 'Good to see you have things running well up there, eh?' he said with this trademark Afrikaaner accent and good humour. 'Some L'Dira have come to us on the down-low, asking us for help with getting their energy generation up and running. It's a bit much for me to do on my own. Could you spare some personnel? I'm thinking an Engineering team, a few scientists, and uh, Major T'Ria, they've mentioned some ill-effects from the plant down here. Would do us good to have a trained hand looking out for us too, you know?'

"Absolutely. I will send everything and everyone you need. Whats the status. And why was it on the downlow."

Yoto stepped forward to be seen on viewer. "The Governor requested the help from your Captain regarding the Grid. Most of the people on my world don't realize how dire out situation is at this time. The medical is me, bringing it to your Chief Engineers attention."

'It's on the downlow because the L'Dira are a proud people. One of the reasons they're in this mess is that they find it difficult to ask for help.' Plaatjes shrugged, 'sounds like quite a few people I've served with in my time if I'm honest. If we can help, hopefully this cycle breaks and soon the L'Dira are swimming in friends, and things improve. Not just for them, but for everyone around them too.'

"We shall see."

The L'Dira felt truly humble and yet ashamed at the same time. "Commander Carey, I appreciate everything your people are doing for mine. I am aware that this is asking a lot. Our pride has gotten us in this current predicament. So, putting pride aside, I assume will get us out of this and will allow us to make better decisions in the future.

"Not meaning to sound disrespectful. I apologize for my response. Just a lot happening in the past six hours. One that may make things more interesting, for all sides involved. We hope to be able to include the L'Dira as a member of our friends list. I am sure, that this will enable to work together in the future."

'So, we have an ETA on our reinforcements Sir?' Plaatjes asked with a smile, 'or will the interesting things delay them?'

Douglasdale looked back to the Commander from her post. "I can assist with getting a shuttle prepped and helping to get everything and the needed personnel to the surface."

=Meridian: Sickbay=

Emily Douglasdale entered sickbay carrying a PADD. The longer the away team remained on the surface, the more issues they discovered with this world. Apparently, this latest development was that the power grid was responsible for many of the locals who had resided around it becoming terminally ill. No surprise that L'Dira medical advances were at an all-time low. This was similar to radiation sickness in another form. "Major T'Ria, we have a situation on the surface that requires your medical expertise."

Major T’Ria accepted the PADD and fell silent. Her gaze moved steadily down the columns of data, one finger resting along the edge of the display in unconscious concentration. Heart rates. Blood indices. Cellular decay markers. Environmental readings near the grid hubs. At length she exhaled through her nose — not quite a sigh, but the Vulcan equivalent of conclusion reached.

“I can stabilize the most critical cases and slow further systemic degradation,” she said at last. “However, unless the underlying field irregularities are corrected, continued exposure will result in recurrence.” She looked up at Emily as she handed the PADD back. “This will require an engineering solution in parallel with medical intervention. Has Commander Plaatjas been informed? The structural waveform variance indicated here suggests a containment or grounding failure within the grid network. An engineer with his expertise will be necessary to prevent further harm.”

"Commander Plaatjes is the one who found out and made us aware of these illnesses," Douglasdale answered. "Currently he is working on a way of making their grid safer for those living in the vicinity."

Major T’Ria inclined her head once, accepting the answer without comment. Her fingers folded neatly behind her back as she turned slightly toward the biobed displays, already shifting from assessment to action.

“That is logical,” she said. “If Commander Plaatjes is addressing the source, then medical mitigation may proceed without redundancy.” Her dark eyes flicked back to the PADD Emily still held. “I will require access to the affected population immediately. Priority should be given to those with elevated mitotic failure and advanced neural degradation.” She looked closer at the data...it appeared that the energy affected portions of the brain that dealt with sensory processing, motor signals...the thalamus was particularly sensitive and plays a crucial role in consciousness, sleep, alertness, attention, memory, and emotion. T'Ria began considering exposure timelines along with potential crew side-effects. That she could be potentially affected by this energy in far more significant manner than her human colleagues was a non-issue, currently.

"I am prepared to travel to the surface immediately, but setting up triage / treatment center would take..." The Vulcan doctor paused with the numbers, having observed that humans did not react positively to that level of detail. "Hours..."

"I don't think it's that dire down there," helm officer replied. "A few hours won't affect much regarding the condition of things down there. Guess we can coordinate with engineering and prepare a shuttle to get everything down to the surface."

Major T’Ria’s gaze lifted—slowly, deliberately—from the PADD to the helm officer after they finished their statement. There was no irritation in her expression, but there was precision. “A...few hours,” she repeated calmly, tasting the phrase as if it required verification.

T'Ria set the PADD down on the nearest biobed and turned fully now, hands clasped behind her back once more. “Based on the projected rate of thalamic degradation indicated from the biometric scans, a delay of several hours will not result in immediate mortality. That assessment is accurate.” She gave a fractional pause. “However,” she continued, “it will result in increased incidence of irreversible neural impairment. Loss of fine motor coordination. Disruption of circadian regulation. Heightened emotional volatility. In later stages, fragmentation of consciousness.” Her dark eyes returned to the officer. “These outcomes may not be immediately observable. The accumulative damage, nonetheless, be permanent.”

Another pause—this one thoughtful. “Additionally,” T’Ria said, “given the field’s affinity for sensory-processing centers, I recommend baseline neuro-scans for all Starfleet personnel who have spent more than four hours within the grid’s influence radius.” T'Ria tilted her head slightly, inwardly considering. Vulcan neuro-architecture was more sensitive. More ordered. More vulnerable. It would make for a novel research project during the slower times in the medical bay to extrapolate how this energy could impact Vulcanoid sensory processing regions of the brain...

Her inner thoughts were intruded upon by pesky reality. Douglasdale was still standing in front of her - her expression questioning. "Apologies." T'Ria began, recognizing her temporary lapse of immediate focus.

“Please inform Commander Plaatjes that I will require real-time telemetry from the grid as adjustments are made. Even marginal waveform shifts may produce acute neurological responses in the exposed population.” Her eyes flicked briefly to the shuttle status display. “I will begin medical preparations now."

The helm officer had taken in everything that the doctor had said. Realizing that the few hours comment was a premature oversight. "My apologizes doctor. I'll get things ready down in the shuttle bay, so we can head down to the service as quickly as possible."

=================
Commander Thomas Carey
Executive Officer/Chief Armory Officer
USS Meridian

Lt. Commander Mattys Plaatjes
Chief Engineer Officer
USS Meridian

Major T'Ria
Chief Medical Officer
USS Meridian

Warrant Officer Emily Douglasdale
Helm Officer
USS Meridian

Warrant Officer Steven Baxter
Communications Officer
USS Meridian

 

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