Counselor’s log supplemental. With large portions of the ship missing we’re assuming that they’re in pocket dimensions, or at least that is the hope. The USS Casanova and their away team are leading the efforts to restore out reality to normal but for now with the vanishing of the Captain and First Officer, and the Second Officer Lieutenant Commander Tashai is in charge with Lieutenant Washborn taking the First Officer role. 

Given that Lieutenant Junior Grade William Hume has been taken, along with the holodecks, I am not objective about this, but then so many crew have been taken that few of us are. At the very least this is a disaster if it’s not corrected, a fairly simple mission bungled through no fault of the Seattle’s own. The main desire at this point though is to get our people, and my boyfriend, back from nothingness. We’ll deal with the fall out later.

[? – Conference Room]

”So we’re spies,” Captain Hawthorne asked.

”Well if this is my holodeck program then yes,” Cruz said, “This is based on old twentieth century spy novels and movies that I used to enjoy.”

“But we were in the conference room, not the holodeck and well frankly I didn’t think you liked stuff like spy novels,” Hawthorne said.

”First I don’t know, all we know is that these aliens seem to appreciate immagination and play. Secondly I contain multitudes, I can like spy stuff it I want,” Cruz shot back, approaching a man she smiled, “I’m Cruz, Adriana Cruz. I’m here for the package.”

The man who acted just like a holodeck NPC eyed her and nodded, “Here. Don’t let the Russians have it.”

Commander Cruz took the envelope and nodded seriously.

”You can like spy stuff, you just never mentioned it,” Captain Hawthorne protested, “And also you look good in that dress.”

”I know. You look good in a tuxedo,” Cruz returned the compliment as she folded the envelope so she could stash it in her dress, “Look about the forms, and dating, we can try if we survive this. I think you’re right, we’re going to keep making the same dumb mistakes.”

”I’m not thrilled about being called a dumb mistake, but I’ll take the win,” Hawthorne said. 

“Chere,“ a man with an exaggerated French accent said, approaching. He also wore a tuxedo and reached down and kissed Cruz’s hand which made her giggle even though she designed both him and the interaction that was playing out just now, “You are as lovely as they say, but are you as cunning?”

Hawthorne clearned his throat, “This is really, umm, revealing. Look guy. I don’t think we need what you’re selling.”

The man glanced at Hawthorne as if just seeing him, a behaviour that the two crew recognized from NPC characters on the holodeck, where the computer was not sure if someone was taking part in the play. His eyes focused on the Captain and he glowered.

”And who is this Chere? Miss Cruz wishes me jealous, and uses this Yankee brute to do it?” he scoffed, Hawthorne did not even really know what scoffing was but he was pretty sure that the French man had just done it.

”I started working on this program when I was a Lieutenant, it may be rough,” Cruz apologized or explained. Hawthorne doubted that casinos of the time looked too much like this. This was opulence at defined by from vantage point hundreds of years in the future. The 1950s were not, but nature a period of great wealth in Europe and most of the money had come from the United States and the Marshall Plan, but then again as a young woman from Mexico in the 2300s it had been hard for Cruz to know better.

Even if she wanted to be seen as a highly accomplished officer in Starfleet, who could handle anything, Hawthorne was actually glad to see a human side of her. Even when they’d enjoyed private time together she had been almost… Vulcan like in her efficiency. 

“Whzy is zee smiling?” the French man asked, puzzled.

”Ignore him Pierre, tell me what Blowhard wants,” Cruz said.

”Blowhard?” Hawthorne had not heard the evil big bad’s name before this, and was having trouble not laughing, it was just so… bad. Clearly this was not her forte, and it was actually endearing how bad this was. He ignored the Frenchman and went to the bar ordering a scotch. The drink was actually pretty good, perhaps even real and not synthahol. It was hard to say, but he was willing to enjoy it however he could.

Pierre, the French man who was so stereotypical he would have made Jean-Luc Picard spin around in his grave, if he weren’t still alive, looked at Cruz and nodded, “He wants something that the Russians are trying to get for him an envelope with the banking code.”

“The banking code,” Cruz said as if he knew what he was talking about, which Hawthorne realized she must have due to the fact that she had made it up in the first place. It was likely some MacGuffin that gave the bad guy control of the world’s money or something, all the money. It was actually kind of innocent and sweet that she’d share this with the crew.

Cruz went over to Hawthorne, “We need to find the Americans, they can help us. If this banking code gets in the hands of Blowhard, he’ll bring the world to its knees.”

Hawthorne finished his drink, deciding to play along, “Okay, let’s roll.”

That sounded properly old timey right?

[Engineering]

Lieutenant James Young was not a scientist. His engineers worked the way they were meant to, and unless someone took them like they had the holodecks, conference room, and now the Lounge, he was pretty sure that the Seattle’s were in perfect order. It was odd working on a ship that had as much in common with Swiss cheese (a bunch of holes in it) as standard Starfleet design. Thus far the missing areas had not affected the ship, a fact he conveyed to Lieutenant Washborn.

The science officer made a unsatisfied sound, as if that did not fit into his thinking, but there was nothing Young could do about it. Given that this was technically a ’science’ issue, Washborn had been in charge of the ship given how many of the senior staff was away. Tashai was also about but far less active, or commanding as the science officer even if Young felt this fell more within the ancient officer’s wheelhouse.

”Again I can’t suggest anything, it’s not like I have extra holodecks to swap in,” Young explained feeling that this issue was well beyond their ability to control. It was going to have to fall on the USS Casanova’s away team to negotiate something before either of the ships lost a part of the ship that they needed. Like life support.

Lieutenant Kolem stepped in playing the peace maker, “Look we’re all at wits end, anything you can suggest?”

Young sighed, “Nothing, I’m barely keeping the ship together as it is. Like we should be scattered into a thousand pieces, but we’re not, none of it makes sense. We’ve lost whole chunks but the ship’s structural integrity hasn’t gone down. It’s more like rooms are there, we just can’t see them.”

“What was Commander Cruz wearing?” T’Rala asked, the senior staff had gathered in the Engineering department, or what was left of the senior staff.

”I think it was her holodeck costume,” Kolem answered.

”So we lost two holodecks, and a room with a holodeck participant. The aliens seem to be targeting, imagination, play,” T’Rala said.

Young looked at the ship schematics skeptically, “Okay, so stop using recreation areas until we solve this. The good news is that none of the remaining areas would contain anything vital to the ship, but again I don’t think we can keep losing chunks of the ship normally.”

”I’ll contact the Casanova and see if their missing sections correspond,” Washborn Dedub said.

”Now we just need to figure our how to get them back,” Kolem said.