"First Watch"
by Lt. Cmdr. Shirik Lektar - Chief Operations Officer
Location: Transporter Room 1, Lektar's Quarters, Computer Core, USS Vanguard
Stardate 58806.27, 11h20
***
Four people clad in shipyard overalls stood on the transporter pad. One of them smiled at Shirik. "Bye, Commander."
Shirik gave the worker a nod of acknowledgement and tapped on the control console before her. The familiar whine of the transporter filled the air as the people shimmered away. She stood there for a moment watching the empty place where they'd been. The silence, which she'd been waiting for for months, seemed out of place now that it was there. She locked down the console and stooped to pick up her single duffel that had been beamed over. The ship was officially hers now, and for a few hours or days she would be its only occupant. She grabbed her PADD off the console and left the room, heading down the corridor of Deck 2. Her quarters were conveniently located just down the hall from the transporter room, making for a quick and convenient unpacking. Now that she was allowed to work as an Ops officer and not an engineer, she had much to do to prepare for the arrival of the other department heads and crew. The ship had been fully certified just that morning, but was nowhere near ready for the actual launch yet.
The doors whooshed open on her new quarters. Conveniently located between the counseling office and sickbay. She wondered if that had been intentional on someone's part. She waited until the door closed behind her and the darkness enfolded her, then stood silently for several moments more, listening, her heat vision examining the room.
Of course no one was there, she was the only one on board. But she still checked, something inside her never letting her feel completely safe.
"Computer, lock the door. Authorization Lektar-alpha-two-two-seven." The computer chirped its compliance, and only then did she move into the bedroom, leaving the room in darkness.
A tension had taken hold of her as soon as she entered the quarters, and it wasn't alleviated until she opened her pack on the bed and removed from it her most valued possession - her kemla. The blade had saved her life several times, and these days she never quite felt safe unless it was on her person. There had been many nights when only the feel of it in her hand had allowed her to sleep.
She laid the blade on the bed and decided she would need at least some light in which to complete her unpacking. "Computer, lights to 30% of standard." The light in the bedroom came on just enough to let her make out the objects in her pack, that her heat vision wouldn't be able to pick out in the dark.
She moved to the dresser and opened the bottom drawer, the drawer that would be the home for most of her collection until she packed them back up again. They were items she seldom or never used, but things she couldn't simply get rid of, either.
Into this drawer went the case holding her commendations and medals, which came out of the drawer only when she was required to wear them for some official function. Following the case was the padded velvet bag containing her sundvas, the flute-like musical instrument from her homeworld that she played only once since joining Starfleet. Next an isolinear chip, containing a holodeck program she had never run. Lastly, a small box, containing the Bajoran friendship bracelet given to her by Sorg Jurell. She closed the drawer, enfolding the items in darkness.
There were a few items left. On top of the dresser she placed a holoimage of her family. No such image actually existed, she had made this one from separate images of the individuals, pasted together to look like they had been gathered in a group. She herself was not in it. In the image, no one was smiling. All but one of them was now dead. Beside it she placed an image of two Vulcans, a man and a small boy beside him. They weren't smiling either, although the boy had a mischievous glint in his eye. Accompanying the holoimages on the dresser's surface was a brush given to her by her longtime bodyguard Voren when they met at Starbase 12.
For a long moment she stared at the image of the two Vulcans, as memories and emotions resurfaced. He too was dead, or missing, only the boy still lived, but she'd likely never see him again. Technically under Vulcan law he was her son, but her people would never see him that way.
Into the top drawer went a few articles of clothing she had brought from her homeworld back when she attended the academy. She seldom wore them. And the last item, a small round terrarium covered in black fuzz. She knew the Vanguard didn't have an arboretum, so she'd have to be creative in finding a place to plant some.
Packing complete, she picked up her kemla from the bed and just studied it in her hands. There would be a new crew, a new security chief, a new captain. She didn't know if she'd be allowed to wear it this time. It seemed every ship she managed to kill at least one person with it, whether she wanted to or not. She strapped it on her thigh and decided to wait and see what would happen.
"Computer, unlock the door." When the chirp sounded she stepped through. "Computer, lights out." She would have to take time later to reprogram the computer in her quarters to her standard security and command protocols. But for now she had work to do. She consulted her PADD and saw that crew were already beginning to be assigned. She raised an eyebrow as she saw who the new XO was going to be. "Hmm." she mused, surprised that already she would know someone, but now instead of her equal he would be her boss. Perhaps she would get to keep her kemla this trip after all. The thought brought a small smile to her lips and she went back down the corridor the way she'd come to arrive at the turbolift. The doors whooshed open and for a moment she stood there looking into the empty space of the lift. A lot of unpleasant things had happened in turbolifts over the years. She took a breath and stepped inside. "Computer Core."
The lift moved sideways, took a turn, then went down two decks before turning again and finally opening into another corridor. She headed down the hall a short distance then into another door. Here the two twin cores filled the room and went up another deck. It had been her first posting as an Ops Officer so long ago on the Sulu. This room was smaller than that one had been, but not by much. She went to the controls and started running final checks on all systems, making sure everything was ready. She made sure all vital systems were fully powered up from the batteries, including life support, gravity, inertial dampeners, and replicators. The main warp core wouldn't be put online until the Chief Engineer arrived and ran his final checks. Until then the batteries, recharged constantly by the umbilicals to the drydock frame, would power things.
While she was there she started going over the locations of various crew quarters, already assigning those that would be used by the senior staff, as they had dedicated spaces on board.
She would spend her shift alone on board checking all the ship's systems. She made a tour of the entire ship, retracing the paths the inspection crew had taken, from the bridge down to the landing struts, making sure everything was in order. The ship was ready, she was ready. She just needed to wait now.
"Coming Aboard"
Lt. Cmdr. Shirik Lektar - Ops Manager
Lt. Cmdr. Greggory Griffith - First Officer
Location: Transporter Room 1, USS Vanguard
Stardate: 58806.28, 08h00
***
Shirik had just finished breakfast and was waiting at the turbolift to begin her shift when she got the notification from Utopia Planitia that the new XO was ready to beam aboard. As the doors opened she turned away to instead head down the hall to Transporter Room 1.
It had been a year since she had last seen Greggory, or anyone from the Constellation crew, but it seemed much longer. She'd been engrossed in helping the Engineering crew with the refit, and had seen places on the ship she'd never thought to see. She knew the ship inside and out, knew all the upgrades, where and how they'd been installed and how they were supposed to work. It had always been easier for her to work with machines and equipment than people.
As she moved to stand at the console and activate the controls, she thought about the new arrival. He was coming on board now not as her equal, but as her boss. She wasn't sure how to feel about seeing him again. She focused her attention on the controls in front of her as she signalled readiness to the planet, and the platform shimmered with the materialization, then suddenly there he was.
'I've spent too much time planet-side,' Greggory thought to himself as he walked through the halls of Utopia Planitia, readjusting to the smell of recycled air and the feel of artificial gravity. 'I'm going to have to spend time in the zero-g gym. And if the ship doesn't have one, well, I can always set aside some corner of the Jeffries' tubes.' His new position was something he'd have to get used to, as well. He may be used to leading teams, but being XO of a starship, even a small one, would take some adjustment. 'I know how every part of a ship functions, but communicating what I need to various department heads has a learning curve.'
He readjusted the satchel on his shoulder as he walked into the transporter room, letting the operator on duty know where he was headed. 'Hopefully, doing my job well will finally allow me to drop the Lieutenant from my rank. That's tedium I can do without.'
He had, of course, reviewed the crew manifest, such as it was, on his way over from Earth. One name stood out. He hadn't seen her in a year, though there had been some brief correspondence in the first few months. He looked back fondly on their burgeoning friendship and hoped they could pick up where they left off, new position dynamic notwithstanding. Not like he needed to keep a close eye on her to run her department. He knew how capable and professional she was.
As the transport completed, he blinked his eyes and looked around, quickly finding the target of his thoughts standing at the control station.
"Shirik. Lieutenant Commander Greggory Griffith, reporting for duty." He gave her a small smile. "It's good to see you."
She inclined her head in greeting, the barest hint of a smile finding her lips. "Welcome aboard, Commander," she said. "Would you like me to show you to your new quarters? They're not far."
He nodded, gesturing toward the door. "Certainly. I appreciate the courtesy."
As they walked down the corridor he asked, "How have you been these last months? Did you ever get the opportunity to meet with Voren and try some 'real food' again?"
"No, I've as yet heard no word from my sister. But knowing her, it may be decades before she chooses to respond. I've been quite busy for the last year, I worked with the Engineering team on the refit of this ship. I look forward to seeing how it performs."
"Likewise. Always fun to play around with a new engine. Can't wait to see what our Chief can get out of it.
"Sorry to hear that he hasn't been able to come by. Maybe our meandering course will take us close enough to Drokari space to justify the visit from Drokar."
"I'm not sure she will even allow it. She's no doubt calculating whether she can derive some advantage from it." They stopped at a turbolift and the doors opened. There was a moment's hesitation, barely noticeable, before she stepped inside and waited for Greggory to join her before saying, "Deck 1." As the lift began to move, she added, "I doubt it would matter to her where we were located, if she decides to send a ship it will come, no matter how far."
The lift smoothly rose one deck and the doors opened once more. She led the way out to the right and a short distance down the hall. "Your office is to the right," she gestured, "and your quarters are right next door to the left. Just across the hall from your quarters is one of the entrances to the bridge. All very conveniently located."
Greggory stood next to her in the turbolift, occasionally glancing her way. "Perhaps, between the two of us, we can come up with a way to phrase the request so it sounds like something she'd benefit from."
Once they got to Deck 1, Greggory stepped out reading the room descriptions as they passed. "Convenient, indeed. Where's the Captain located? On this end or the far side of the bridge?"
"Oh, I already made my request, which is why she's considering it at all. It would be best not to make any further contact until she's decided."
She pointed down the corridor. "The next door down next to your quarters is the briefing room. The captain's ready room and quarters are on the other side of the bridge. You can continue around down this hall or go back past the turbolift or through the bridge itself to get there. There's also a turbolift directly to the bridge, so if you ask for bridge that's where you'll be taken rather than the one we came from."
"A logical approach for such a tight ship. Going to be a lot of long walks through the corridors, if only for an excuse to put some distance between me and the bridge when I'm off-shift." Greggory headed toward the door to his quarters. "Thank you for the tour. You're welcome to come in if you don't have any other duties at the moment."
She considered for a moment. "I can join you for a short time, but won't you be simply unpacking? And about your walks, the ship is small but it does have a gymnasium and two holodecks. But unfortunately for me, no arboretum."
"I can unpack and talk at the same time," he said with a grin, walking into the (relatively) spacious quarters. "I'm sure we can find space in the Science lab, if you need a place to grow Tasmos."
She followed him inside and the doors closed behind her. She looked around the room curiously, having never been in this particular room before. "That's what I was thinking. There are two configurable science labs aboard, not yet assigned. I could perhaps at least set up a small enclosure in one of them to grow it. It doesn't need much, just a dark space similar to a cave. For that matter, I could probably just set aside a space in my own quarters." Her long braid swayed behind her as she moved, and her kemla was in plain view strapped to her thigh. She had her ever-present PADD in her hands.
"I'm sure we can come up with a reason for a low-light environment ecological study," Greggory said with a laugh. As he pulled out some of his own mementos, he placed them around the room. "I'll probably have to convince one of our biochemists to help me come up with a way for me to join you for a cup safely."
He reached into his bag and pulled out a felt exocomp with exaggerated ursine features, placing it at the head of the bed.
"If it's safe for you to drink, it's not klaas," she smirked. "But I can probably program the replicator to make a coffee or raktajino that smells like klaas...." Her attention was drawn to the stuffed creature. "What is that?"
Greggory rolled his eyes at the familiar argument. When she asked about the stuffed exocomp, he laughed. "A souvenir from the Constellation. I had utilized a number of exocomps, modified so they didn't have the adaptive programming that gave them sentience, to take care of janitorial duties and routine maintenance. It freed up my engineering teams to put more training into damage control exercises. One of our fellow officers suggested that I treated them like pets, hence the animal features on this one."
"What became of them? Are they still on the Constellation?" she asked. "Who owns them?" She considered the devices. She knew that some of them had been declared sentient, which raised a whole slew of questions.
"I left them aboard the Constellation. They had been part of the routine for so many of the crew, it seemed a shame to take that away, especially on such a large ship. The next Chief could decide to get rid of them, of course, but that's their prerogative."
She considered for some time in silence before speaking again. "If the exocomps were deemed sentient... how is it ethical to use them at all in that way? You said these had no adaptive programming, but if they are considered sentient like humans, isn't doing that sort of like... using lobotomized humans as servants?" she asked carefully.
"These were never sentient and didn't have the capacity to be. It isn't like I used the standard model and stripped them of that autonomy if they got too advanced. At worst, it'd be like using a lower primate as a beast of burden. I suppose it depends on just how fine a line you want to put on it, but I tried to navigate the ethical issues." He understood where she was coming from, given her own culture.
"So you used... prototypes? The earlier forms?" she nodded, that made sense. She felt relieved for some odd reason. "That's good."
"The Constellation is a much bigger ship, likely they wouldn't be needed here anyway."
"Smaller ship, smaller crew. If I feel like Engineering is underperforming, I'll bring it up with our Chief, but I'm going to try not to micromanage, since it's not MY department." Greggory sat on the edge of the bed as he finished unpacking. "What about Ops? Anything you need approved or requisitioned before we set off?"
"No, now they're ALL your department," she said with a small smile. "No, well one thing... but I really need to take it up with our Security Chief first, when we get one." She patted the kemla at her thigh. "It's the same discussion every time I board a new ship."
"Well, if you need it, I can put a good word in for you. I know you're responsible with that thing. As long as you don't go anywhere for shore leave," Greggory joked with a wink.
That actually elicited a smile from her. "Nowhere with other people, anyway," she agreed.
"I personally have no problem with senior staff being authorized to carry self-defense gear, rather than relying on Security for anything they can't handle unarmed. Even if it doesn't have a stun setting," he joked.
She nodded. "We'll see what our security chief says when he or she comes on board. While you can override them, I dislike going over people's heads to get something I want. It's unprofessional."
"First Impressions"
by Lt. Korn Zaje
Lt. Cmdr. Shirik Lektar - Ops Chief
Location: Shuttle Bay
Stardate: 58806.29, 07h30
***
As the shuttle landed on the shuttle bay with a reassuring 'thud', Zaje waits in anticipation for the ramp to open. This is the first time on the Vanguard and he's very much looking forward to seeing what security protocols are in place.
His last posting on the USS Zeus under the enigmatic Captain Ewan Rodgers had been a baptism of fire. Thrust into action after an accident left the previous Senior Security Officer incapacitated, Zaje had stepped up and impressed his former captain. He hoped to do the same here.
Stepping down the shuttle ramp, he looked around. "Hmm, nobody to check my credentials. Slightly lax." Zaje makes a note to pick this up with the CO later.
Now, he really wants to check out the ship's weapons system, but really needs to get rid of his case. The dossier stated Chief Lektar is the Ops Chief in charge of quarters. He hits his comm badge. "Korn to Lektar....."
Shirik was in her quarters, in the middle of breakfast when her commbadge chirped. Korn? She glanced at her PADD to find his name. "Ahh..." she murmured to herself. Tapping her commbadge, she replied, "Lektar here."
"Sorry to disturb you so early Sir. This is Lt Korn. I have just arrived and I believe I need to contact you to assign me some quarters. I'm eager to get going Sir."
Korn hoped he didn't sound too eager. But having been away from a ship, even for a short time, he was raring to start work.
"That's not a problem. Where are you now? I'll meet you," she said, hastily finishing the last of her breakfast and moving to the replicator to recycle everything before scooping up her PADD and heading out the door.
"Thank you Sir. I am currently on Deck 4, by the shuttle bay." Zaje hated waiting around not being of use, but needs must.
"On my way," she said, already on her way to the turbolift.
It was only a few moments before she arrived at the shuttlebay and made her way towards the new Security Chief, her gaze already studying him, taking measure of the man. A Bajoran. She had her misgivings, given her interactions with Bajorans in the past, especially Bajoran Security Chiefs. She cast those thoughts aside. This was not Ben, although he did bear a superficial physical resemblance. "Lt.... Korn, is it?" she asked. She was never sure which name was the correct last name for a Bajoran. "I'm Lt. Cmdr. Lektar. Welcome aboard. I can show you to your quarters. Once you've settled into your new office, I'll have some things to go over with you."
"Reporting for duty Commander. It's an honour to be chosen for this posting." He could see the slight pause in the Commander before she greeted him. Shrugging it off, Zaje stands to attention. "I'm eager to take stock of the ship Commander. Whilst I appreciate the mission is of discovery, we can never be too prepared."
"Indeed," she agreed. "Seldom do any missions go smoothly or without surprises, in my experience. Come. Your quarters are on Deck 2 starboard, and the brig and armory is located on Deck 3."
She led the way to the turbolift. The ship was small and compact, everything seemed a short walk to everything else. "Deck 2," she said after they'd entered the lift. It was a short ride to Deck 2, where she stepped out and led the way a short distance down the hall. "Your quarters are here. Next door is the counseling office, and just across the hall from your quarters is the nearest escape pod location."
Arriving on Deck 2, Zaje turned to Shirik. "Thank you Commander." Zaje hoped he wouldn't need the escape pod any time soon, but better to know the location should he be caught napping. "Shall I get settled in and then come and find you? You mentioned you wanted to discuss some things with me?" Eager to get a glimpse of the defensive and offensive systems without a chaperone, Zaje makes a small bow of his head. "I don't want to take up too much of your time."
"Yes, but I think they can wait until you're fully settled in. I'll catch up with you later. If you have any questions about anything, feel free to ask."
"The Shape of New Ships"
by Lt. Cerys Rowan - Chief Science Officer
by Lt. Cmdr. Shirik Lektar - Chief Operations Officer
Location: Various, USS Vanguard
Stardate: 58807.02, 13h00
***
The transporter room at Utopia Planitia Fleet Yards smelled faintly of ozone, hot metal, and fresh polymer sealant.
Cerys Rowan had always thought shipyards had their own atmosphere. Not the carefully balanced, almost invisible air of a starship in flight, but something more unsettled. More alive. The air here carried the traces of new beginnings: newly christened serial numbers painted on ships, state-of-the-art science equipment being installed, and shuttle crews ferrying crates between drydocks like bees between flowers. It was a place where ships became homes.
Cerys stood on the transporter pad with her travel case at her feet, a specimen case under one arm, and a PADD clutched in her other hand. The PADD contained her transfer orders, departmental roster, laboratory allocation notes, and three increasingly terse messages about storage limits aboard Nova-class vessels.
The last one had included the phrase: Chief Science Officer discretion is appreciated.
Which to Cerys meant: Please do not bring a forest.
So instead Cerys had brought only one plant sample. And one moss-mimic glider.
The sample rested in a palm-sized stasis cylinder inside the case tucked beneath her arm. It looked, to anyone else, like a dark curl of lichen suspended in pale blue containment light. To Cerys, it was the beginning of a question she had carried for six years.
Bramble rustled from the breathable travel sling across her shoulder.
"Hush," Cerys murmured.
The moss-mimic glider settled, briefly, in the sling.
The transporter chief, a gray-haired Tellarite with one tusk, glanced up from the console. "Problem, Lieutenant?"
"No problem. My luggage is just enthusiastic."
The Tellarite snorted and stared at the green critter attached to Cerys. "Better than contagious. Last week, a commander tried to beam aboard with a self-replicating mega-virus."
Cerys smiled politely. "Don't worry. He is fully cleared under Starfleet companion organism protocols. And certainly not contagious."
The transporter chief smirked and continued prepping his console.
Through the observation window, the USS Vanguard waited in drydock.
Nova-class. Compact. Purpose-built. Less imposing than the great cruisers and deep-space explorers, but there was something graceful in her small stature. She was not a ship meant to overwhelm. She was a ship meant to observe. And Cerys liked her immediately.
Her name was painted cleanly along the hull: USS VANGUARD, NCC-76381.
Her first assignment as Chief Science Officer.
The thought should have filled her with triumph. Instead, it arrived with a complicated mix of pride, nerves, and the sudden irrational conviction that she had worn the wrong boots.
"Transport lock established," the chief said. "Vanguard transporter room two is ready to receive."
Cerys straightened. Bramble made a questioning chirp.
The transporter chief activated the beam and, for one suspended moment, Cerys was nothing but pattern and light.
***
The Vanguard's transporter room was smaller than the fleetyard station's, but somehow warmer. Not in temperature. In personality.
The console gave a soft confirmation chime.
Transport complete.
Cerys stepped down from the pad.
No one was waiting for her.
For a moment, she simply stood there with her travel case, her specimen case, and Bramble pressed warm and curious against her shoulder. The absence of ceremony should have made the moment feel smaller. Instead, it made it feel more real. The ship did not pause for her arrival. It breathed around her: environmental systems humming, distant tools tapping behind bulkheads, turbolift doors whispering open and closed somewhere beyond the room.
Cerys consulted her PADD. Temporary access codes. Shipboard directory. Revised lab assignments. Quartering information. Her personal effects had already been routed to her quarters. The crates marked fragile had been placed outside Science Lab One pending her approval.
One of them, according to a terse cargo notation, was producing intermittent vibration.
"That would be the humidity regulator," Cerys murmured.
Bramble climbed higher in the sling, his small side membranes flexing with interest.
"It is not a toy."
Bramble looked charmingly innocent.
The corridor beyond the transporter room curved gently away in both directions. There were protective covers still on some wall panels. Crew moved with the careful speed of people still learning a new ship's angles. A pair of engineers passed carrying a panel between them. Someone in command red ducked around an open diagnostic junction. A medical technician stepped aside with a crate of emergency supplies.
The Vanguard was not fully settled yet. Cerys could feel it.
She followed the directory toward Science Lab One. The ship's compactness became apparent almost immediately. Here, everything seemed close: transporter room, turbolift, science lab. A small ship. A ship where everyone would learn everyone else's habits quickly.
A ship where a Chief Science Officer could not hide within the nonexistent arboretum.
Cerys touched the specimen case under her arm, and her mentor's voice sounded in memory.
The unknown is easier to face when the people naming it remember to be kind.
Professor Arlen Vey had said it to her on a rain-heavy afternoon at Starfleet Academy, after a first-contact ethics seminar had gone badly. Cerys had been twenty-one, exhausted, and furious with a visiting instructor who had referred to a newly encountered photosynthetic-based organism as an "environmental hazard" before anyone had determined whether it possessed consciousness.
She had argued with him. Too sharply, probably, and certainly too personally.
Afterward, Professor Vey had found her in the Academy arboretum, sitting on the floor beside a tray of Vulcan mushrooms and trying not to cry. He had not told her to calm down. He had not told her she was wrong. Only after several minutes of quiet work had he spoken.
"The unknown is easier to face when the people naming it remember to be kind."
At the time, she had thought he meant kindness toward new life, like she had been trying to defend. But later, she understood he had also meant kindness toward those who were scared, or arrogant, or mistaken. Especially toward the young officers so desperate to be right that they forgot to be gentle.
Cerys had written the sentence on the front cover of her botanical journal. After Professor Vey's death, she had vowed this would be the value she led others by.
Professor Vey's final research samples had been distributed among former students and colleagues. Cerys had received the small dark curl of living lichen now tucked beneath her arm. It had been collected from a protected ecological preserve on Thaleos Minor, where certain plant colonies appeared to adapt not only to climate, soil, and light, but to the emotional rhythms of nearby caretakers.
Most researchers dismissed that interpretation as poetic overreach.
But Professor Vey had not.
And neither would Cerys.
The doors to Science Lab One parted at her approach.
The room beyond was still half-unpacked. Workstations waited in standby mode. A diagnostic frame had been left open near the primary analysis table. Several storage compartments were tagged for review, and outside the lab entrance sat the crates Cerys had packed earlier that day.
Sure enough, one was humming.
Cerys knelt beside it.
The humming crate was easy to identify. It bore a fragile tag, a botanical quarantine seal, and a note in her own handwriting: Humidity regulator. Do not stack, shake, invert, freeze, or argue with.
Bramble leaned forward from her shoulder and sniffed.
"No," Cerys said softly.
He chirped.
"No."
Cerys set the specimen case carefully beside the crate and rested one hand on its lid. For a moment, she simply listened to the Vanguard around her.
She was really here.
Chief Science Officer.
The title still felt too large. But perhaps responsibility was supposed to feel that way at first: unfamiliar enough to respect.
She glanced down at Professor Vey's sample and thought again of his words.
The unknown is easier to face when the people naming it remember to be kind.
Cerys had brought that lesson with her, along with one fragile plant sample, too many crates, and a moss-mimic glider already testing the limits of Starfleet regulations.
It would have to be enough.
She opened the humming crate. The regulator whined once, offended, then settled into a softer vibration.
As Cerys stood, the turbolift doors behind her slid open, and a Drokari woman in a gold uniform stepped into the corridor.
Cerys recognized her immediately from the departmental rosters she had studied on her PADD.
Lieutenant Commander Shirik Lektar, Chief Operations Officer of the USS Vanguard.
Shirik's PADD chirped at her, alerting her to the fact that another crew member had beamed on board, the new Chief Science Officer. Consulting her console to see the officer's location, she saw that they had gone straight to one of the ship's many science labs. Scooping up her PADD, she went to go introduce herself. She hoped this one was not like the one on board the Sulu, which had nearly killed her and half the crew with her incompetence.
She made her way to the science lab and as the door whooshed open she stood there for a moment as her violet gaze came to rest on their newest crew member, an appraising look. "Lt. Rowan," she said by way of greeting, her expression as neutral as any Vulcan's. "I am Lt. Cmdr. Lektar, Ops Chief. I see you've already located one of the science labs. There are 8 aboard, plus Astrometrics." Her glance fell to her PADD. "Your quarters will be on Deck 4. Do you have a preference as to starboard or port side?" she looked up.
Cerys straightened a little too quickly, nearly catching her head on the open crate.
"Lieutenant Commander Lektar," she said. "Cerys Rowan. Though you've established that already. Uh... Excellent start from me."
She offered what she hoped was a professional smile.
"It's very good to meet you."
Cerys glanced at the crate, then back to Lektar.
"I did mean to report in before putting down roots in the lab, but the cargo log said one of my crates was vibrating, and in my experience that's either a humidity regulator or the beginning of a small administrative disaster."
She tapped the crate with her foot, and let out a nervous laugh.
"Regulator, thankfully. Much less paperwork."
Her eyes brightened despite herself.
"And eight science labs plus Astrometrics is - I mean, that's... so exciting! I was actually wondering if any of them have been repurposed for something unexpected? Hydroponics experiments, perhaps? Or a forgotten stellar cartography project that no one's quite sure how to shut down? I've always thought ships develop their own little scientific ecosystems over time."
She caught herself.
"Sorry. I do tend to get a bit carried away when it comes to lab allocation. The lab is practically my second set of quarters."
Cerys gave a small, self-conscious smile.
"Starboard would be lovely, if available. But I'm not fussy. I only require modest quarters, basic storage, and a bit of space for a contained habitat. Nothing large, just enough for a small arboreal companion named Bramble. He's quite well behaved. Mostly."
From inside the crate came a soft, inquisitive chirp.
"Vibrating?" she raised an eyebrow and eyed the crate in question. "I trust any samples you've brought aboard have been properly catalogued in the ship's manifest and been pre-approved to bring on board? Nothing dangerous or infectious?" her eyes squinted a bit suspiciously for just a moment before she made a note on her PADD. "You have a... pet?"
Cerys's smile flinched for about half a second.
"Yes. Absolutely. Samples are all properly catalogued, pre-approved, and accompanied by an alarming amount of documentation."
She shifted the specimen case under one arm.
"They are all non-infectious and non-sentient as far as current testing indicates. One of them is... scientifically interesting, which is not the same as dangerous. Usually."
At the word pet, Cerys glanced toward the crate.
"Ah. Yes. Though pet is a rather imprecise term, isn't it? A bit old-fashioned. Bramble is a registered companion organism."
A soft chirp came from inside.
"On his native world, moss-mimic gliders are common domestic companions. Rather like dogs on Earth, if dogs were arboreal, photosynthetic-adjacent, and less interested in fetch. They bond socially, respond to tone, seek proximity during stress, and..."
Cerys stopped herself.
"Sorry. You asked whether I had a pet, not for a comparative xenobiology lecture."
She cleared her throat.
"He is fully screened, not dangerous, and not meant to be in the crate. That last part is new."
Cerys gave Lektar an apologetic look.
"I can provide the clearance file. It's very thorough."
"Hmm." Shirik tapped in some more notes on her PADD then looked up once more. "Does it fly?" she asked, eyeing the crate once more. "You realize it won't be allowed to roam the ship. It must be in your quarters at all times unless being moved, in which case it must be in a proper container or restraint device." She tapped in a few more things. "Your quarters will have double occupancy, so you can use the extra sleeping area for your companion. If you need the bed removed, let me know and I'll arrange it."
"Not exactly, no. Moss-mimic gliders usually glide between canopy layers. Bramble was born with a membrane malformation, so he doesn't fly so much as... fall gracefully."
A small chirp came from inside the crate.
"Very gracefully," she added, as if she was correcting the record on behalf of a friend.
She nodded quickly toward Lektar's PADD.
"And yes, absolutely. No roaming. Quarters only unless contained or properly restrained. I understand. The last thing this ship needs is an arboreal incident in a Jefferies tube."
Cerys glanced toward the crate, then back to Lektar.
"The extra sleeping area would actually be ideal for his habitat. If the bed could be removed, I can set up a contained climbing frame, environmental unit, and rest enclosure. All secured, and minimal power draw."
She hesitated, then gave a small, hopeful smile.
"Since you know the Vanguard better than I do, Sir, is there anything about the ship I should learn quickly before I start making myself useful?"
"Indeed," she agreed about the Jefferies tube. "Very well, I'll see to the bed's removal as soon as I can." She paused then, and said, "Yes, actually. Although this ship has many science labs, it lacks an arboretum. Assuming you would be agreeable to it, I propose utilizing one of the two configurable science labs on Deck 4 for this purpose. As the head of the Science department that decision would be up to you." She watched Cerys expectantly as she waited for her answer.
For a moment, Cerys simply stared at her. Then her expression changed entirely.
"Oh!"
It was not a very Starfleet answer. It was barely an answer at all. But there was such unguarded delight in it that she had to catch her breath.
"Yes!" she said, perhaps a little too quickly. "Yes, I would be enthusiastically agreeable to that. Alarmingly agreeable, actually."
She cleared her throat and tried to reclaim something resembling professional composure.
"I mean, provided it doesn't compromise the ship's research capacity or environmental load, of course. But a properly designed arboretum could serve as more than a pleasant room full of leaves. It could support botanical study, atmospheric monitoring, limited xenoflora trials, crew morale, low-stimulation recovery space..."
She stopped herself, and thought how much Professor Vey would have already liked this new ship.
"So yes. As head of Science, I'd support converting one of the configurable labs into an arboretum. Gladly."
She tilted her head slightly.
"If Operations can provide the environmental tolerances, power limits, and any hard no's, I can draft a proposal that is mostly reasonable by the end of the day."
She raised an eyebrow at the unexpected enthusiasm of Cerys' response. "Very well. Send your proposal, and I will see to rearranging or removing any equipment as necessary on Lab 1. There is a certain growth environment I wish to set up there for a plant of my own I would like to cultivate."
An almost mischievous look spread across Cerys's face.
"I'll get started on it right away. Thank you, Sir. I promise I'll try not to make you regret it - at least not immediately."
The mention of another plant immediately piqued her curiosity.
"You're cultivating something as well?"
She caught herself before the question could multiply into a full interrogation.
"No - that can wait. We'll both have plenty of time for botany once the ship is underway. I'll restrain myself. For now."
She nodded gratefully, a spark of excitement still lingering in her eyes.
"And... thank you. I have a feeling I'm going to like serving aboard the Vanguard."
Shirik opened her mouth to reply, but then merely nodded. "Indeed. We can discuss it later. I will return to my duties, crew are coming on board and supplies are being sent over, so I have much to do. No doubt you will as well, setting up the many science labs."
"A New Life"
Lt. Tyzur - Chief Medical Officer
Lt. Cmdr. Shirik Lektar - Chief Operations Officer
EMH Mark VII
Location: Various, USS Vanguard
Stardate: 58807.03, 08h00
***
It was a quiet morning. Tyzur glanced at his final transfer authorisation while sipping coffee, a human beverage he had learned to appreciate during the intense shifts at his previous posting. He paused as he reached the line 'Assignment: Chief Medical Officer, USS Vanguard'. Not 'Resident Doctor', not 'Former Borg', but Chief Medical Officer. He read it several times before closing the PADD. It was the first posting that was entirely his choice. He remembered the parting words of his mentor, another El-Aurian physician. "You spent a century healing bodies because you were ordered to." A pause. "Now you get to heal people because you choose to."
Time to pack. Despite his age, Tyzur owned surprisingly little. The Borg collective had little room for personal affairs. His time at the academy and his position at Starbase 327 on the edge of a warzone left him with little time for a personal life. He gathered his Risian lute, a collection of science fiction novels from Betazoid, Vulcan, and Cardassian authors, a holopicture of his mentor, and replacement uniforms specially tailored around his cybernetic right arm. Tyzur glanced at the concealment glove he got during his academy days to make his implants less noticeable. He picked one up and considered packing it. Instead, he put it into the replicator for recycling. He was tired of pretending his arm wasn't there. He wasn't proud of it, but he wasn't ashamed of it either.
The corridors of the Utopia Planitia transit station were well-worn, providing a temporary home for countless Starfleet crews about to embark on their missions. Tyzur walked past an observation window, and spotted her. USS Vanguard. NCC-76381. She was small compared to other docked ships like the Intrepid and Sovereign classes. It would be an adjustment, living spaces on Borg cubes and starbases are massive.
The gray-haired Tellarite glanced up from the transporter console as Tyzur approached.
"Lieutenant Tyzur?"
"Yes."
His eyes flicked to the cybernetic arm, then back to the console.
"Hm."
He frowned at the readout.
"You're carrying... just under twelve kilograms of cybernetic hardware."
"Eleven-point-eight," Tyzur replied. "I maintain it myself."
One bushy eyebrow rose.
"You actually know the weight?"
"It helps when recalibrating the inertial compensators."
The Tellarite gave an approving grunt.
"I like officers who know their own maintenance."
He tapped a few more commands, then paused as another line of Tyzur's service record appeared.
"Starbase 327."
"Yes."
"That's a hard posting."
"It could be."
The Tellarite leaned back slightly.
"I've beamed more casualties off that station than I care to remember."
For a moment, his usual gruffness softened.
"They always said the doctors there were miracle workers."
He finished entering the transport coordinates.
"Don't prove them wrong."
It's about the closest thing a Tellarite gives to 'good luck'. Tyzur inclined his head.
"I'll do my best."
The Tellarite snorted.
"Good enough. Transport lock established. Vanguard transporter room one is ready to receive."
As he rematerialised, he was greeted by Lieutenant Commander Lektar, Chief Operations Officer.
Shirik stood at the console of Transporter Room 1. She'd looked over the personnel records of their new doctor, and wasn't overly thrilled to be meeting him. Why did they so seldom seem to get regular doctors on her postings? She let out a breath as they signaled the transport. "Ready." The familiar whine of the transporter filled the small room as the beam of light shimmered and coalesced into Tyzur. She nodded a greeting with a neutral expression. "Welcome aboard, doctor. Do you wish me to escort you to your quarters, or sickbay?"
Tyzur stepped off the platform.
"Thank you Commander! I'd like to get settled into sickbay first. Would you come in for a medical checkup? It's standard Starfleet procedure for a new crew, and in my experience things can go sideways very quickly."
One eyebrow went up. He hadn't even stepped off the pad yet and already was wanting to start on checkups? She managed not to frown. "Very well," she said, "This way." She led the way out of the room and to the turbolift not far away. She may as well get this over with, she thought.
He detected the unease in her. They had warned him that would happen after being liberated from the collective. Still, it wasn't going to stop him from doing his job. They followed the corridor and turned a couple of corners, and there was sickbay. It was a modest facility, but more than enough for a crew this size. Upon entering, Tyzur noticed the biobeds to the left. He gestured to one of them.
"Please take a seat."
He considered using the medical equipment in his cybernetic arm for the checkup, the scanner's resolution is 2.4% higher than that of standard medical tricorders after all. But since he had sensed some apprehension from the commander, he thought better of it. He had a quick look around the room and found where the medical tricorder was stored. He began the scan.
"I've read your medical record, you have quite the medical history. Everything seems to be in check, but we'll have to keep an eye on things. I haven't come across a Drokari before. I see similarities to Vulcan physiology, but there are differences. Any chance you could put me in touch with the Drokari so I can get a look at their medical texts? It would help me treat you more efficiently."
She hopped up onto the biobed. While he was retrieving his tricorder she took a moment to look him over, noting the cybernetic appendage. She filed it away for later but otherwise had no reaction to it.
At his request she almost smiled at the sheer absurdity. But he wouldn't know. "My people would not speak to you," she said. "I can attempt a request myself, but I'm not sure they would approve it."
It had been a while since he encountered an unfamiliar species. It was part of why he signed up for an exploratory mission. It would be exciting to figure out the differences from Vulcan physiology. But he wouldn't let his excitement show, that would be unprofessional.
"I see. Please do, it's worth a shot. Thank you for having your checkup so quickly, it can be a challenge to get the crew in sometimes. Let me know if there's anything I can do for you."
"Indeed," she nodded, hopping off the bed once more, glad it was over with a minimum of questions. "If you require any supplies or equipment, let me know. Cargo is still coming aboard."
"I've requested some cutting edge xenobiology equipment. Has that been approved? I'd like to upgrade Biolab 1 so we're ready to study any new life we'll encounter."
"I will certainly check on that and if not, I will see to it that it gets approved and delivered before launch. Is there anything else?"
"That's all, thank you!"
Tyzur sat down in his office chair and picked up a PADD, not sure how to end the conversation.
She nodded. "Let me know if you require anything else," she said, tapping on her PADD as she exited sickbay. With any luck, she wouldn't be back any time soon.
"Homecoming"
by Capt. Varissa sh'Orthamu - Commanding Officer
by Lt. Cmdr. Shirik Lektar - Chief Operations Officer
Location: Unnamed Waverider, Utopia Planitia, USS Vanguard
Stardate: 58807.05, 07h00
***
Captain's Log... that's going to take a little getting used to. I am presently flying the Vanguard's Waverider to its underbelly. We're going to have to christen this with a name... perhaps I'll leave it up to the senior staff to agree on a suitable title. This being the first of these crafts I've flown, I'm impressed with the size of the interior while still handling more like the fighters I started my Starfleet career in. A part of me misses those days; just me, the machine and a small wing that was more like family than a squadron...
No, Varissa, this is your family now. The Halifax taught you that. Daiki and Zeev and Tyler and Holly and Bartan... all of them taught you that even a big ship can be a family. The Vanguard isn't even particularly large... a maximum compliment of 80, not including guests or emergency evacuees. That's ten times less people. This is going to be intimate... everyone is going to know everyone within a year, at most. More importantly you are going to be leading them, this is your ship, Varissa. Believe in yourself. Believe in the mission. Believe in Starfleet. Gameface on.
The Vanguard is stunning. I'm on my docking approach now, taking it in manually. This is good. Just be yourself and you got this, girl. Deep breath in...
... and out.
***
The hiss of the hatch connecting the not-so-small shuttlecraft and the Nova-class ship echoed in the almost empty halls of deck 3. The ship wasn't even a skeleton crew; perhaps a dozen or less souls, Varissa included... mostly engineers ironing out the last wrinkles and a particularly intriguing COO... but it would be good for the newly minted captain to be there for the majority of the crew, should they want to discuss anything prior to taking the big bird out of its nest for its first flight. Captain sh'Orthamu climbed out of the hatch and stood up, stretching a bit before rolling her shoulders with the audible sound of her shoulders popping in their sockets. The Andorian had put a lot of hard miles on her forty year-old frame... not that she was getting old, but the years of damage had taken their toll. Perhaps a trip to the medbay was in order for her long overdue checkups once it was fully staffed... their El-Aurian Liberated Borg CMO she'd read up on before leaving the planet's surface was apparently quite skilled... maybe he could be the one to fix that lingering tear in that left shoulder blade that never healed right...
As she stepped out of the hatch into the corridor, she was met with the sight of someone standing there waiting. Lt. Cmdr. Lektar, PADD in hand, her looks and expression Vulcan like, nodded a greeting. "Welcome aboard, Captain. I'm Chief of Ops Lektar."
The Andorian's antennae had already been pointing to Shirik before she even spoke; the stories about the Federation Founder species being sensitive to bioelectric signals and vibrations appeared to be quite true!
"Lieutenant Commander Lektar... just the Drokari I was hoping to run into." Varissa mused, her dark eyes shifting to the COO. The decidedly not Starfleet standard scalloped blade attached to her belt loop - her Ushaan-tor - glinted with the white lights of the hallway. "How have you been acclimating to your new station? Any observations?"
Shirik quirked an eyebrow at this greeting. "Oh?" she mused, her gaze traveling over their new Captain. She'd never seen an Andorian up close before, and knew little about them, but the blade at her Captain's side caught her eye. Her own Kemla was in view, sheathed at her thigh. "Quite well," she said. "There have been improvements and upgraded systems installed during refit which I'm sure our Engineering team will be eager to put through their paces."
"Indeed. You are a curious case... and I want to make sure that not only you, but everyone on this ship is on the same page as me before we start 'boldly going' and get 'strange new world'ed. Nothing worse than getting your wires crossed when you need to dig deep and make it count." Rissa hummed, a wry grin on her lips as she motioned with her head towards the turbolifts before beginning to move. "Walk with me? I want to dig right in and see the bridge. How many souls are on board? Are we fully stocked on everything we need? Did my cargo get delivered to my quarters? Most importantly... did they fully stock the weight room?"
Shirik nodded and fell into step beside her. "The senior staff is all aboard with the exception of a ship's counselor. There's been no word of one as yet. The rest of the staff should be arriving over the next week. We're scheduled to depart on our shakedown mission on stardate 58807.11, which is in 6 days' time. Supplies have been arriving and will continue to arrive with the rest of the crew. Cargo was delivered and placed in your quarters as requested. It was not opened. I have not yet checked on the gymnasium's equipment, but I will do so today." She was already tapping notes into her PADD as they stepped into the turbolift. "Bridge," she said, and the lift began to move. "The turbolift can deliver you either directly onto the bridge itself, or to the general corridor of Deck 1," she explained. "Your quarters and ready room are directly across the hall from the port exit on the bridge."
Nodding along to all the information, Varissa half-followed/half-led the lieutenant commander as they made their way over and up.
"Yes, I reviewed the schematics on my way to Mars. Interesting design... I guess if Deck 1 gets hammered in a combat scenario I'm pretty much toast, eh? Oh, also make sure to let the crew know that unless otherwise noted I have an open door policy. You'll get the hang of my command style in short order, but to make it short and sweet I like my crew to feel comfortable being themselves so long as those proclivities don't trample on the freedoms of other crewmen."
The captain glanced down at the dagger at Shirik's hip, then up to her eyes. Varissa's dark eyes were locked on... almost like she was staring right into the Drokari's soul.
"Can I trust you to ask questions first and stab later?" She asked, candidly.
"I think you will find that most ship designs do have the Captain's quarters in a similar location," she observed. "I was always curious as to why, but..." she shrugged. Shirik's eyes were a striking violet color, and narrowed a bit at the scrutiny. Her jaw tightened a bit as she answered stiffly, "I do not draw my blade without good reason." She paused for a moment. "I am planning to ask permission to carry it on board from the Security Chief." She knew the Captain must know her record of violent altercations over the years involving her blade.
"Mmmmmm..." She rumbled, gears churning in her mind. It was evident with the bobbing of her antennae... but those eyes? Those eyes remained locked on those violet orbs opposite hers. "Don't bother. I'm authorizing you to carry it as much or as little as you would like. My trust comes relatively freely, Lieutenant Commander Lektar. You're correct... I did read your record. I know more about you than I've ever had to know about a fellow crewman before being introduced. That information remains locked between you and me. That trust goes both ways. Be aware that if you lose my trust, it is painfully difficult to re-earn it. Not impossible, but never easy."
The turbolift chirped and the doors 'wooshed' open and Varissa stepped out, nodding towards the bridge before setting off yet again.
"I've not yet served with you, Lektar... but I can tell you with absolute sincerity that an armorer would have to pry my Ushaan-tor from my cold, dead fingers before I would surrender it on a day-to-day basis. If we're trying to perform diplomatic activities that require us to surrender our blades for the purpose of a mission? That's a different story... and I expect you to follow my lead on that matter. Standard away missions? I expect you to protect your fellow crewmen with that blade and serve Federation ideals while you wear that blade, badge and those pips. Do I make myself clear?"
For a moment Shirik hesitated, as two potential responses warred for supremacy in her mind. Finally she said, "Likewise." Her trust too was hard-won and easily lost.
The doors opened onto the bridge itself, and Shirik took one step into it, but her eyes were still steadily meeting those of her new Captain. "Yes, Captain." She paused, then added, "I do appreciate your support for my blade, but I dislike jumping the chain of command, as it were. Do you wish to notify the Security Chief of your decision, or should I?"
That got a warm chuckle out of the captain as she entered the small bridge. It wasn't anything terribly exciting, but it was hers. Hers and the crew's. The USS Vanguard... a good ship.
"Home sweet home... hmm... you sound like my-" Her words stuck in her throat as she stopped in her tracks before continuing to the captain's chair, running a hand over the back before sitting down. "-a dear friend. A Vulcan. She would scold me for failing to adhere to things like the chain of command. I appreciate you being a stabilizing force in that regard. Quite right, Chief of Security will hear it from me. Proper chain, fear not."
Varissa took a deep breath in... and out. Taking it in. She looked down at the controls and began to flick through the settings, causing the viewscreen to flick on as it cycled through various options before settling on the personnel roster.
"All of the senior staff is aboard, you said? Thullex... that's a bit embarrassing. I'd hoped I had beaten them here. Ah well... no use worrying about 'what if'. Is what it is... has anyone had issues with their departments so far?"
Shirik made her way over to the Ops station and tapped in commands to run some basic systems checks. She hadn't missed the catch in the Captain's speech. A Vulcan, as well. She wondered if that Vulcan was also deceased.
"Yes, all but a counselor. The Chief Medical Officer normally fills that role until one arrives," she said, not overly relishing that thought. "Not that I know of, there have been no complaints as of yet."
"Mmmmm... medical personnel make poor counselors in my experience. Let me try to pull some strings with the brass. I firmly believe in therapy and expect everyone on this ship to sit down with our future counselor at least once a month. That'll be an order... but I won't expect the CMO to take on that responsibility except for as an emergency measure. That means everyone, Lektar... am I clear?"
No eye contact... no glance. Just an expectation to hear an audible confirmation as she continued cycling through menus, taking her time on the ship layout of Deck 1.
Her back to Shirik, she didn't see the scowl on Shirik's features. "Yes, Captain," she muttered. She hoped they wouldn't have a counselor for a while.
"Good... I think that takes care of the business I needed to cover with you." Rissa said, letting out a heavy sigh as she turned around to face the lieutenant commander from her seated position, a grin tugging at the corners of her lips. "Now the fun stuff. I read that you like to keep yourself fit... do you need a gym partner? I was hoping that we could spot for one another and perhaps even be sparring buddies, if you'd like. I'm not picky about what sparring styles we cover! It's hard to find anyone in Starfleet that actually enjoys hand-to-hand combat, let alone training with weapons. I typically use holodeck programs, but they're still not like the real thing."
Shirik looked up from her console with mild surprise. She'd never met a Captain who was so.... social... before. "I... usually work out alone," she said. "But, I would not be averse to company on occasion." She wouldn't necessarily say she enjoyed her intensive fitness regime, it was more like survival.
"Open to new experiences. I like that!" Varissa hummed, standing up and clapping her hands together. "That should be at the top of your file. Everyone's record is so... sanitized. They don't catch the humanity and personality of a Starfleet officer, just the quantifiable statistics. I'm going to be painfully frank with you, Shirik: I see a crew less as an enterprise and more like a family. We are only going to have 80 crewmen here and a few months in we're going to at the very least be able to recognize everyone's faces, if not by name. We're going to be relatively isolated on our missions... and while the Vanguard has some bite to it, we're primarily going to be a scout, exploration and diplomatic vessel. This is a drastic shift from my previous experience as a fighter pilot and helmsman during the Dominion War... and I know this entire Starfleet experience is a dramatic shift from your home world. We're both going to need to adapt and adjust for this mission... and learn from one another."
"Err, yes..." she said, not quite sure what to make of this new Captain. "To be fair, Capt., I've been in Starfleet for nearly twenty years, so I am no stranger to how it differs from my homeworld."
"Just... crossing my t's and dotting my i's. I don't mean to diminish your Starfleet record, merely acknowledging your upbringing. Perhaps I'm preaching to the choir, as it were... perhaps I was trying to simply find similarities in order to empathize and relate to my senior officer. I find that you catch more ice-bores with Andorian ale than charcoal pellets and I'd rather be shoulder-to-shoulder with friends than coworkers when going to red alert."
The tall Andorian let out a sigh as she approached Ops where the Drokari stood, her smile fading. Clearly there was more on her mind than just trying to be chummy.
"This... is my first captaincy. Well... not including the hockey team back at the academy, anyway. I've been in Starfleet for 20 years, myself. Been put through the wringer... seen more action than most see in their whole career. I almost resigned my commission after a real bad situation at the very start that I don't particularly like to talk about."
She pointed at the Captain's chair before continuing.
"That thing scares me. I declined promotion four times before accepting this one on my former Captain's insistence. I've been told to just... be myself and let the rest take care of itself. I've always felt more comfortable in that seat-" She changed the trajectory of her finger towards the helm. "-because I just like to be the plucky, brash flygirl that solves her issues with a flight handle and a lot of thrust. I'm a problem solver... that's what I'm bringing with me to this post... and I'm hoping that my methods result in a positive experience for not only me and you, but our entire crew. Hopefully that makes my intentions make a bit more sense."
She put a hand on Lektar's shoulder and her smile grew wider once again, her antennae perking up.
"Now... I'm going to unpack a bit in my quarters and then sit down and have a drink. If you'd like to stick to your duties, I support you. If you'd like to stop in the observation lounge in about half an hour to have a drink and discuss our experiences in a more relaxed setting, I would very much enjoy the company. I was under the impression that you may not have had a particularly close relationship with your superiors in your previous postings and simply wanted to get to know you instead of a file on my PADD."
"I see," she said. While the words were unfamiliar, she understood their meaning, as there were similar sayings on Earth. Not on her homeworld.
She nodded. "I have served with many Captains, and few of them I found worthy of the position. I hope you will be one of them in time."
Shirik stiffened at the contact but only nodded. "I have much to do yet in preparation for launch, but I appreciate the invitation. And you are correct." She picked up her PADD. "Enjoy your unpacking, Captain." With that she left the bridge.
"Transfer & New Duties"
SCPO Kovar - Master-at-Arms, USS Vanguard
Lt. Cmdr. Shirik Lektar - Chief Operations Officer, USS Vanguard
Location: USS Veracruz, USS Vanguard
Stardate: 58807.05, 15h25
***
Master-at-Arms.
Kovar weighed the title, examined it in his mind's eye. It wasn't a promotion - not that he was personally concerned, one way or another, with rank - but seemed rather a recognition of his accomplishments and skillset as a security official for Starfleet for nearly half of his life. The newly-commissioned Vanguard had need of one with the experience and temperament to forge the crew into a cohesive unit, prepared to encounter whatever hazards they may encounter during their first year's missions.
And to ensure that discipline was maintained.
Taking one more look at the PADD that displayed the crew manifest, Kovar committed names, ranks, and positions to memory. There were still gaps in the roster, so he would have to ensure that he received regular updates from transfers from the Captain and XO, which itself would be an indicator to the ship's leadership style.
No matter, things would work out as they will. He would do what he could to optimize the efficiency of the ship's operations, hopefully without stepping on too many toes this time. The Vanguard was not a Vulcan ship, so he needed to temper his expectations.
Dropping the PADD into the case that held his meager belongings - his various decorations, a holo-crystal containing pictures of Jurisa, his parents and his siblings, and a stack of small paper squares - Kovar snapped the case shut as the door chime sounded in his quarters.
"Come," he called to the door, which obligingly whooshed open to permit the ship's executive officer, Commander Dece Yemo, entry into Kovar's spartan quarters.
"Commander," Kovar greeted his superior, standing straight. "I was not expecting you."
Dece waved off the formality, replying, "You didn't think I was going to let my best security guy go off quietly to his next assignment, do you?"
Kovar internally chafed at the 'security guy' comment. Despite having received and acknowledged his new orders, and the Veracruz pulling alongside the Vanguard for his transport, he still considered himself a member of the Veracruz's crew, and the informality - especially from one of his superior officers - annoyed him. However, he'd learned over many years, and many postings, that non-Vulcans considered informality to enable better relationship-building, so he'd come to internalize his perspective.
"No, I suppose not," Kovar simply replied. The two had worked closely over the last several years, over the closing phases of the Dominion War and its aftermath.
Dece smiled, his Bajoran earrings sparkling in the light with the movement. "Well, you'll be missed. You've been a tremendous asset to the crew and invaluable to Starfleet's ground operations, and I have no doubt that you'll whip the crew of the Vanguard into shape in no time," the XO complimented.
"I have -" Kovar started, then realized that Dece was using a euphemism, and that a leather discipline tool should not be used in his next assignment. Instead, he accepted the compliment with, "Thank you, sir."
Looking around, the XO commented, "Not much to pack, eh? Ready to go?"
"Sir," Kovar confirmed, collecting his travel case, and motioned to Dece to lead the way to the transporter room.
Kovar never thought of himself as a philosopher, though sometimes he found his mind wandering down paths of thought that caught his attention. For instance, as his matter stream finished materializing on the pads in the Vanguard's transporter room, he mused whether his body was precisely the same one that had been de-materialized on the Veracruz, or if this was a new one that merely housed the energy patterns that made up his mind, his personality, in a new location.
He'd read the report from the Enterprise-D, many years before, of the ship's doctor being sent through the transporter to de-age her body after an unusual incident. If that were possible, could the transporter be used to effectively keep individuals immortal?
(Preposterous), he dismissed, (the finest minds in the Federation would surely have examined the possibility long before now.) The line of thought continued for a few more moments as the materialization process completed.
Stepping from the pad, Kovar nodded to the transporter chief, then turned to the Chief of Operations, Commander Lektar, who awaited his arrival.
He'd never encountered a Drokari before, and was briefly fascinated with the Lieutenant Commander's dark skin before remembering his place, and presented a small PADD containing his Starfleet jacket and orders.
"Commander, Senior Chief Petty Officer Kovar, reporting for duty," he said as formal introduction. "I am honoured to be here."
Shirik stood near the console, a PADD in one hand, her violet eyes watching the newcomer materialize. Strapped to her thigh was a sheath enclosing her traditional knife, the Kemla. Her features were neutral, and with the pointed ears some might even mistake her for an unusually colored Vulcan or hybrid. Her skin was jet black, and by contrast her hair was pure white, tied in a braid that hung down her back.
"Welcome aboard," she said. "Your quarters are on Deck 4." She took the offered PADD and glanced at it, then tapped some information on it and handed it back. "The Security office, brig, and armory are on Deck 3. The main mess is on Deck 2. I have transferred a complete set of ship's schematics to your PADD for ease of finding your way. Do you have any questions?"
Deck 4, that was good. A location central to most other areas on the ship, lowering reaction time to any off-duty incidents. Kovar nodded with approval, more to himself than Commander Lektar.
Kovar took the proffered PADD, saying, "That is appreciated, Commander."
Studying the updated dataset, he added, "I understand that there are vacancies within the crew. I would like you and the command staff know that I will make myself available to fill in any gaps in shift rotations... Provided that doing so would not affect my primary duties, naturally."
Pausing to allow the head of Ops to digest the offer, Kovar asked, "Would it be possible to speak to the Captain and Executive Officer? I would like to start setting up weapons and tactical training sessions with the crew onboard."
"That would of course be a matter to take up with our security chief," she said. "As for the Captain and First Officer, they are both on board so I'm sure you can schedule a time to speak with them on that matter, although I'm sure any training sessions won't take place until after we launch. There is still much to be done in preparation."
"Due Course"
Lt. Cmdr. Shirik Lektar, Chief Operations Officer
Queen Lara of House Lektar, Queen of Drokar
Stardate: 58807.11, 1630h
Location: Lektar's quarters, USS Vanguard
***
Shirik had finished her dinner and now had another task to perform, one she was not looking forward to. Dr. Tyzur had requested medical information about Drokari. In her years in Starfleet none of her other doctors had done that, at least, not to her. That made him stand out. He actually seemed interested in learning about how to treat her species. Perhaps, he would be the one to continue Dr. Piche's promised work.
That meant she owed it to him to at least try to get the information he asked for. She wasn't sure how her request would be received, or how much explaining she would have to do. Or even what to wear for the call. Strange, she thought, that nobody else had to think about what to wear or how to look when calling their homeworld. But every time she spoke to her sister it was a production, a display, a performance, a chess game. She hated calling home. She hated speaking to Lara. It was so exhausting.
The last time she called it had been personal, a request for herself, so she had dressed as a Drokari Princess was expected to dress. This time it was a professional request, for her job, so she decided her uniform would suffice whether Lara liked it or not. The room behind her was still bare and spartan, a silent reminder of their previous conversation she hoped Lara would notice. Maybe it would motivate her reply to that request to come a bit faster. Likely not.
Shirik sat at the desk terminal in her room, making sure every hair was in place, her uniform clean and uncreased, the bare wall behind her. Then she tapped in the communication request and waited, watching the Starfleet insignia on the screen until it was briefly replaced by the Drokari one and a woman came on screen. She looked a bit like Shirik, a bit older, her skin ebony black and her white hair held back with a clasp into a tail. She looked rather bored. "Yes, can I help you..." as her red eyes looked up at the screen they widened a bit in recognition and she was instantly alert. "Princess. Yes. How may I be of service?"
Shirik hated this. Always having to act the proper part. She put a bit of an annoyed look on her face and said, "I want to speak to Queen Lara. Now."
"Yes, Princess. Right away." Her face vanished to be replaced by the Drokari symbol once more. After a few moments the symbol of House Lektar replaced it, the coiled whip that now held more meanings than it used to for her.
Lara's face appeared on the screen. Her hair long and adorned by diamonds and crystals, her black skin flawless, her violet eyes already searching Shirik's, seeking weakness. "Shirik," she drawled. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" she smiled, but it wasn't a friendly smile, more the fake smile Lara used for her little sister that Shirik always saw through.
She managed not to fidget. "I am calling in an official Starfleet capacity," she said, letting her know this call wasn't personal. "I have been assigned to a new ship, and this ship's doctor asked about obtaining some medical records, to better let him treat any Drokari." Inwardly she winced. They both knew she was the only Drokari in Starfleet, the only one any doctor there was ever likely to see.
"Oh?" she asked, feigning concern. "Do you require some kind of treatment?"
"No." Shirik said flatly. "The doctor seems more thorough than most, and wants to be ready should the need arise. Will I be able to obtain them for him?"
Lara's eyes studied Shirik, looking for any hint of a lie. Shirik's expression revealed nothing. "I will consider the request," she said. "I'll contact you in due course. Lara out."
Shirik scowled at the black screen. "In due course," she muttered. That could mean next week or next decade. She was still waiting for the answer to her last request, over a year ago. Well, at least she tried.
Two calls home to her sister in seven years. More than she wanted to make, and hopefully she wouldn't need to make any more any time soon.
"Due Diligence"
Lt. Tyzur, Chief Medical Officer, USS Vanguard
Dr. Kira Velas, Head of Medicine, Royal Medical Facility, Kachivar, Drokar
Stardate: 58807.11, 1830h
Location: USS Vanguard
***
Tyzur's communicator chirped. A young female communications officer said, "Dr. Tyzur, I hate to bother you, but there is a call coming in for you from the planet Drokar?"
Tyzur entered his quarters. His shift ended a couple of hours ago, but he'd lost track of time once again. He ordered a Risan mai-tai from the replicator. It's a drink that had helped him wind down during his recovery. He sat down on the sofa thinking the Starfleet standard issue one is a bit uncomfortable.
"Computer, add replacing the sofa with an armchair to my personal to-do list."
Only vague memories of his childhood remained, but he did remember the comfort his grandmother's armchair provided. He took a sip when his commbadge chirped. An incoming call from Drokar? Lt. Cmdr. Lektar had indicated they had an isolationist attitude, so this call was a pleasant surprise.
"Thank you Ensign! Patch it through to my quarters."
Tyzur sat down at the display unit on his table and pressed the button to receive the call.
The screen lit up. A woman's face looked out at him. She looked very much like Shirik - inky black skin, pure white hair, and deep violet eyes - but she was a bit older. Her hair was up in a tight bun on the back of her head, and she wore a white medical smock. Around her neck was a choker of some sort of sparkly crystals, and similar sparkly things adorned her hair. For a long moment she said nothing, her gaze studying this alien before her, noting the metal on his face.
Finally she spoke. "Mi sa tamkrill kira velas, lub am rakiv ni'tam ni'sirob."
She watched him expectantly.
Ah. The Drokari language must not be in the Federation database.
"One moment. Computer, run the universal translator's new language initialiser. If it fails, run a level 5 diagnostic."
The universal translator usually picks a new language up very quickly. It can take a bit longer if no language with a common root is on record, Tyzur speculates.
The computer responded, "Language unknown. Running diagnostic."
The woman's eyes lit up and she nodded with a frown, holding up one finger. She then turned and murmured something softly to someone offscreen, then looked down at her console and tapped in some commands. She looked back up once more. "Can you understand me now?" she asked. "I forgot that you creatures do not speak a proper language." Her expression suggested she should expect nothing more of him.
"I am Dr. Kira Velas, head of the Royal Medical Center on Drokar. I am told that you need some information."
Tyzur would have to navigate the conversation carefully. Physician to physician, that was the common ground he hoped to find.
"Thank you for speaking with me, Dr. Velas. I appreciate that your world values its privacy, and I have no wish to intrude upon it. My purpose is purely medical. I am responsible for the care of a Rennari patient, and our knowledge of your people's physiology is understandably limited."
Every instinct urged him to ask a dozen questions immediately, but medicine had taught him that trust was often built before the first answer was ever given.
"Before I ask anything further, I'd like to know what information you're comfortable discussing. If there are credentials or authorizations you require, I'll gladly provide them."
"In reviewing the literature available to us, it became apparent how little we actually know about Rennari medicine. As a physician, I'd much rather learn from those with firsthand experience than rely on incomplete extrapolations."
He fell silent, resisting the temptation to fill the pause. If Dr. Velas was willing to entertain the conversation at all, she deserved the space to decide where its boundaries lay.
She seemed to be listening to every word he said, even as her gaze carefully watched his features as he spoke. One eyebrow rose slightly at his use of the word 'Rennari'.
"As the head of the Queen's medical staff and this global Medical Center, I am authorized to discuss anything of a medical nature that I decide is pertinent." she said. "Your credentials have already been ascertained and accepted or we would not be speaking now." She paused for a moment to consider her words. "I am responsible for the health and well being of all members of the Royal House, Lektar. Including our First Princess, who is serving aboard your vessel. Your request for these records brings me some concern, as none of your doctors before have requested it. Is there something wrong with the Princess that requires more information from us?"
Of course they knew. He'd requested medical information about the only Rennari serving in Starfleet. Expecting the Queen's physician not to draw the connection had been wishful thinking. Tyzur inclined his head slightly.
"I understand your concern, Doctor. If our positions were reversed, I suspect I'd ask the same question. However, I hope you'll understand that I can't discuss the medical condition of any patient under my care without her consent. That's a professional obligation I wouldn't set aside, regardless of rank or title."
He let the words settle before continuing.
"My request shouldn't be interpreted as evidence of a crisis. Rather, it reflects my realization that our medical database contains remarkably little baseline information about Rennari physiology. I'd rather obtain reliable information before I need it in an emergency than discover our assumptions are wrong while someone is on my biobed."
He offered a faint, apologetic smile.
"What I'm hoping to obtain isn't Princess Shirik's medical records. I have no wish to intrude upon her privacy. Rather, if your government permits it, I'd be grateful for any standard medical references your physicians consider appropriate for treating Rennari patients. Anatomy, physiology, pharmacology, emergency medicine, anything intended to educate a competent physician unfamiliar with your species."
She considered his words. "The First Princess is also my patient, as she has been since birth. We too have a code of privacy with our patients, but in this instance I consider it a professional consultation between two doctors treating the same patient. If there is something she needs treatment for, then I would have better information to know what exactly to send you that might help. General knowledge about our anatomy and common ailments may not do you much good should she have contracted some sort of space ailment or specific known disease of our people."
She paused. "You must understand that our medical knowledge of Rennari physiology is also considered sensitive information. We do not share it freely with outsiders. In medicine as in diplomacy, information flows both ways. I am prepared to provide you with comprehensive references that would make you an exceptionally well informed physician regarding our people, and our First Princess in particular. In return I would expect a professional consultation. Not her private records, simply your clinical assessment of her current condition and any concerns you may have."
"I believe that's a reasonable proposal, Dr. Velas. I appreciate that you're approaching this as a consultation between colleagues. I would extend the same professional courtesy were our roles reversed."
He folded his hands together.
"Clinically, Lieutenant Commander Lektar is stable. Her recovery from repeated severe trauma has been remarkable, and she has returned to a level of function that exceeds what I would ordinarily expect."
His brow furrowed slightly.
"My concerns stem less from her current condition than from the limits of Federation knowledge. Rennari physiology appears broadly Vulcanoid, but I know superficial similarities can conceal important differences. I'd particularly value your guidance on the long-term implications of the focklym infection, her prior demyelinating condition, and the reconstructed pulmonary tissue."
He paused briefly.
"One observation may be relevant to both of us as her physicians: Lieutenant Commander Lektar consistently minimizes her own condition. She is more inclined to carry on with her duties than seek medical attention. Admirable in an officer, perhaps, but less so in a patient."
She listened intently, and although her facial expression didn't change, her eyes showed a number of things. Surprise, concern and a bit of anger. "I was not aware of the extent of her injuries. Our records of her condition have not been... consistently updated. This changes the nature of my request considerably. I must request her medical file from you, so I can more thoroughly understand her condition and advise you appropriately. Our people are quite resilient, and also quite private. Her reticence to seek aid is not unusual here, and such major injuries as you describe are rarely seen among members of the Royal House."
She paused once more. "A demyelinating condition is no small matter, as I'm sure you're aware. Are her symptoms causing problems? Are they getting worse? And this focklym infection, I will need more information about that as well to better advise you. I am aware of my people's superficial similarities with Vulcans and their kin, but there are significant physiological differences between us."
Tyzur listened without interruption, noting the subtle shift in her demeanor. The concern in her voice was unmistakable.
"I understand your request, Dr. Velas, and I agree that a complete medical history would be valuable. However, Starfleet medical ethics require me to obtain Lieutenant Commander Lektar's consent before releasing her medical record whenever circumstances permit. She is stable, so there is no emergency that would justify overriding that principle."
He re-adjusted his seating position.
"I will speak with her at the earliest opportunity. If she consents, I'll provide whatever information is necessary to support your consultation."
His expression became more thoughtful.
"To answer your immediate questions: the demyelinating condition is not currently progressing. From my examinations, she has recovered well and exhibits no significant neurological deficits attributable to it. My concern is whether there are long-term consequences unique to Rennari physiology that we should be monitoring."
"As for the focklym infection, it occurred years before I became her physician. My understanding from the record is that it caused irreversible pulmonary damage requiring reconstruction of both lungs. She presently has excellent respiratory function, but I cannot say with confidence whether that reflects complete recovery or successful adaptation."
He rested his hands on the desk.
"If there are specific findings, laboratory studies, or imaging you would like obtained while I await her consent, I'd be happy to arrange them."
She looked shocked for just a moment. "Reconstruction of... That is major damage. I would appreciate any information about her case that you can offer, Dr. I will need to look them over and perhaps consult with some specialists here." She paused. "The Princess is known to be stubborn, and a bit paranoid. It would not surprise me if she refused your request, even if is it in her best interest medically to agree. She may not fully comprehend the severity of what she's experienced and will continue to, she has no medical knowledge and as a Princess would normally have been protected from any such harm. I will appreciate any materials you can provide."
Tyzur considered her words for a moment before nodding.
"I understand your concern, Doctor. If our positions were reversed, I would want the same information. But I won't circumvent Lieutenant Commander Lektar's autonomy, even for what I believe are good reasons. She is stable and capable of making that decision herself, and maintaining her trust in her physicians requires that we respect it."
He paused.
"That is not a lack of trust in you. Quite the opposite. I will tell her that I spoke with the physician who has cared for her since birth, and that you wish to consult as a colleague. If she consents, I will provide a detailed medical summary with the information most relevant to your assessment."
He glanced briefly at the data console.
"In the meantime, I'll send what information I can share without violating her privacy, including my general observations of her recovery and current condition. Perhaps that will give your specialists a place to begin."
Tyzur offered a small, respectful nod.
"I appreciate your willingness to assist, Doctor. I know this is an unusual request, and I hope this can be the beginning of a productive exchange between our medical communities."
She gave a faint half-smile at his optimism. "Please send what you can. My colleagues and I will look over it and see what we can do to aid you. Please contact me again when you have an answer." She paused, then added, "Good luck. I look forward to conversing with you in more depth about many things."
"Thank you for your assistance. And Doctor... I too look forward to that conversation. Until then, stay well. Tyzur out."
As the call ended, Tyzur smiled to himself. Collaborating with physicians of unknown species is the kind of exploration he signed up for.
"Computer, add arranging an appointment with Lt. Cmdr. Lektar to my to-do list."
The computer chirped. "Acknowledged."
"Maiden Voyage"
Captain Varissa sh'Orthamu, Commanding Officer
Lt. Cmdr. Greggory Griffith, First Officer
Lt. Korn Zaje, Chief Tactical Officer
Lt. Cmdr. Shirik Lektar, Chief Ops Officer
Lt. Cmdr. Raikon Achaea, Chief Engineer
Lt. Cerys Rowan, Chief Science Officer
Crewman 1st Class Dagh bim Braffin, Pilot
(Other characters as needed)
Stardate: 58807.11, 08h00
Location: Bridge, USS Vanguard
***
The time had finally arrived. The warp engines had been brought online and run through a series of tests, all the supplies and equipment for the ship's launch was in place, and her crew was mostly complete. Everyone was at their posts on the bridge preparing to leave Utopia Planitia.
Shirik sat at her console monitoring systems as the ship prepared to launch. She was a bit nervous as she'd not spent much time on a bridge position except during Gamma shift. This was her first launch. "Captain, we have received final clearance from Launch Control to leave drydock." she reported.
Raikon chirped in after her "All systems nominal, main power is online, engines are ready and warp drive is ready to go."
He was proud of his team. The last few weeks they put in some hardwork to get the ship ready and now everything was running perfectly. He looked over his shoulder to see what the rest were doing while keeping an eye on his own console.
Cerys rested one hand on the edge of the science console, more to remind herself she was standing still as the Vanguard prepared to move out of dry dock. She always got motion sickness.
This was it.
For years, she had imagined this moment on the bridge while buried in xenobotany texts. Somehow the real thing was quieter than she'd expected.
Except, of course, inside her own head.
In her head, an orchestra had decided today required a full overture. French horns swelled. Strings climbed. Percussion waited just behind the curtain, ready for the instant the ship cleared the dock. If someone had opened her skull, they might have found an entire symphony packed between her ears.
She glanced around the bridge at her new colleagues. Everyone carrying their own mixture of excitement and responsibility. Soon these strangers would become like family.
Cerys drew one slow breath, fingers dancing lightly over the science controls as the sensors fed out information.
Let's go find something wonderful, she thought.
The imaginary timpani rolled.
The familiar hum of a starship readying for departure is a strange familiar comfort for Zaje. He watches the bridge closely, reminding himself to keep calm. "Deep breaths Zaje" he whispers to himself.
Watching the tactical console, reports flood in.
"Tactical systems are green Captain. All stations report ready for departure"
The familiar rumble of the warp engine that had become such a calming, centering vibration for Varissa was humming -- the pitch, the cadence all new -- but the familiarity was there. This was a Federation vessel like all the others she'd served with. This one was just hers. Hers and her crews. This was the USS Vanguard. They needed a bit of pomp and circumstance; this was her coming out party and the galaxy was watching.
Captain sh'Orthamu ran a finger down her control panel before standing from her seat and looking to each of her senior staff members and tapping the comm on the left chest of her uniform.
"Computer -- patch me through shipwide comms, please. I'd like to address the entire crew for a moment..."
The artificial voice of the ship confirmed her order before she took a deep breath and continued.
"This is your captain speaking. I want all of you to remember this moment as we pull away from the shipyard and Mars and everything familiar. Not every crew gets to christen a ship, so this is one of those times you'll be telling future generations as they look at you with awe in their eyes and adventure in their hearts. We are the USS Vanguard. Our ongoing mission? To explore places known and unknown -- to conduct science to better understand this existence -- to meet new beings and discover new wonders the likes of which we do not yet comprehend. That's our job, people -- to define the undefineable. To explain the inexplicable. To chart the unknown. To find logic in the illogical. I am not a scientist -- but I'm in charge of making sure each and every one of you is given the space, resources and security to do your science -- stuff. I will be with you every step of the way as your personal cheerleader and ringleader, so do not hesitate to come to me with ideas and suggestions and whatever else you are cooking up in those brains of yours. I welcome it! I'm a fighter pilot that just has the experience to make a ship run the way it needs to. I'm your captain and you're my crew. I work for you and you work for me -- and we're going to have a hell of a lot of fun doing what we do. We are the Vanguard; we lead the way where others only dream to follow."
Another deep breath -- and the Andorian sat down, letting the shipwide comm halt.
"Alright, team -- let's let those ample nacelles breathe a little bit. Slow and steady away from the dock. Once we get far enough out, it'll be warp nine on my mark towards Alpha Centauri. We have a little delivery quest with some supplies before we get into the meat and potatoes."
Shirik looked up in surprise. Warp 9? Already? She glanced at Raikon, she hoped the new engines were up to it. They were about to find out.
Greggory sat upright, a small smile on his face as he listened to the captain's speech. As she finished, however, he crooked an eyebrow at her orders.
"Helm, take us out, 1/4 impulse. Once we're clear of Mars' gravity well, full impulse to the Oort Cloud."
Buying a few minutes to execute the next stage of her orders, he leaned over slightly as he spoke softly to Varissa. "Captain, I don't recall anything in the mission report that said this was an emergency situation. I understand you're used to going as fast as a fighter will carry you, but is Warp 9 warranted?"
Braffin had the same sour expression dragging at his tusks since he sat down at the helm. During the Captain's speech he gave a curt glance back over his shoulder, parting his jaw like he might say something, but turned back to his station grumbling inaudibly.
Initially he made no acknowledgement of Griffith's order. As if suffering from time dilation, he suddenly perked up several seconds late. "Aye, sir," he grunted, fingers racing from button to button as if to make up for lost time. A flurry of beeps later and he added: "One quarter impulse." Already the Red Planet was dwindling, the shipyards becoming a remote blemish across his face.
Raikon caught Shirik's glance after listening to the captain's speech. He gave her a "it's alright" nod. Turning towards his console he started sending messages down to his team in engineering. "Prepare yourself going warp 9, keep an eye out on the field integrity" a few seconds later a beep from his console let him know the team received and acknowledged the message.
A wry grin grew on her lips as her right antenna bobbed towards Greggory.
"Just making sure you're paying attention, numero uno. Don't want any of you to be sleepwalking through important moments. Quite right, Lieutenant Commander -- let's adjust that warp to a more modest three-point-seven so that we don't get our wrists smacked by brass straight out of the gate."
Shirik kept all her opinions to herself. The captain made an unusual order to test her crew. That's something she's never experienced before. She focused on monitoring ship's systems as the impulse engines came online and the Vanguard began to move smoothly out of drydock.
As Dagh accelerated to full impulse, Mars faded into just one star of many on the viewscreen, only notable for its red hue and relative brightness. After a few minutes he turned in his chair to the Captain, still wearing the same scowl.
"We're clear of the planet's gravity well, sir. Standing by for warp speed."
Greggory nodded to the Captain's remarks. He checked his own side panel to monitor the ship's systems as they crossed the outer planets. "Everyone, remember that this is a shakedown cruise. Let's make sure everything is working before we stress-test her. All departments, status report before we clear the system."
Shirik studied her console and spoke softly into the commlink to her department before reporting, "Operations reports all ready. Computer core standing by for warp."
A deep breath in --
-- and out.
"Time to see how she purrs." Varissa called out, leaning forward with a fingergun towards open space on that brand new viewscreen. "Helm: engage the core."
"Aye, sir." Braffin grunted.
He turned back to the helm and with another flurry of beeps keyed in their heading. Mars, already just a red smudge on the view screen, fell even further from the Vanguard until finally submerging into the sea of passing starlight.
"Warp one... warp two... warp three... warp three point seven." Grimacing at the console, he hesitantly looked back over his shoulder. "Our ETA at Alpha Centauri is... fifteen days at current velocity, Captain." He added to himself in a barely audible grumble, "Human space. So much for exploring..."
"Delivery quest," Cerys thought with an amused smile.
It was an unexpected way to describe their first mission. And she was curious.
She looked up from her science station toward the captain.
"Captain -- if I may, what exactly are we delivering? I'd love to know whether Science should be preparing for anything beyond enjoying the ride."
Zaje is surprised to hear the Captain's description of the mission. He and the security team haven't had any information passed to them regarding any cargo.
It's also the first time Zaje has noticed the Captain and Ops Chief are carrying blades on the bridge. He makes a mental note to discuss this with the Captain later.
Hearing Lt Rowan's query, Zaje chips in.
"It would be also useful from a security point of view to understand the cargo we're carrying. Do we need to make any special arrangements?"
Raikon was half listening to the chatter on the bridge, the warp 9 bit was a bit weird. He was looking at all the data that was coming in from engineering and the current performance of the ship. It was all looking good.
"Engineering, Tactical, Science. I'm still waiting on those status reports," Greggory said, holding back all but a hint of frustration. He was trying not to make an ass of himself on this first collective shift of the command crew, but he didn't appreciate being ignored. "Helm, you were specifically ordered to wait until we had left the Sol system before going beyond Warp 1, no matter how eager you are to get out of 'human space,'" he emphasized, indicating he had overheard the Tellarite's grumbling.
With his side panel, he sent off a quick acknowledgement of Ops, with an extra "Thank you" to Shirik for being the only one to not ignore his commands.
Distracted by the mysterious cargo, Zaje snapped out of it when hearing the Commander's tone. After a few presses of his console, he sent the tactical report to Lt Cmdr Griffith. Status report showing all green.
"Apologies Commander. Tactical reports all green. Deflector shields at the ready, phaser banks calibrated and photon torpedo launchers prepped."
Cerys felt her cheeks warm. She had let herself get distracted by the excitement of the launch.
First impressions matter, Rowan.
"My apologies, Commander. Science is fully mission capable. Long-range sensors, internal sensor arrays, stellar cartography, and laboratory support systems are all operating within normal parameters. We're ready for departure."
As she returned to her console, her gaze drifted briefly across the bridge.
She'd caught herself earlier thinking that these officers might one day become family. Perhaps they would. But families weren't built during stirring speeches or maiden voyages. They were built in long nights, impossible problems, shared victories, and the quiet moments in between. And all that is still yet to come.
Raikon looked up from his console and gave a side glance towards the commander. A little bit surprised as he gave a status report not long ago, but an order is an order.
"All systems nominal, main power holding steady, the matter-antimatter reaction is balanced and operating at peak efficiency. Warp field is holding and cruising at 3.7, Sir."
Dismissing the typical Tellarite rudeness -- the only way in her experience to deal with Tellarites -- she turned to the science station with a smile.
"Typical supplies, nothing we should be too worried about." She hummed to Cerys, then looking to Zaje with a quirked brow. "Not sure how this slipped by you and your team, Chief, but from now on I don't want a single piece of cargo entering this ship without being inspected. We're still working the bugs out of our system here so I'll accept this oversight at present, but have a team inspect the supplies and make sure everything is above board. Our new motto for security is 'better safer than sorrier', am I clear?"
She let out a sigh before addressing helm once more.
"Helm, once we've stress tested at three-dot-seven please coordinate with engineering to get us up to a smooth cruising pace of warp six. I think we would all appreciate getting finished with working out the kinks so that we can actually get to the science and exploration that this vessel was built for."
Rissa then turned to her XO and nodded. More firm than she would be, but they would need to work out those bugs not only in the system but with the crew, as well.
"I have the full manifest of the supplies, for any who may need to see it," Shirik offers. "I did a cursory inspection when they were brought aboard, but I'm sure not as thorough as our Security Chief would have."
She tapped a silent "You're welcome." to Griffith's panel but stayed otherwise focused on her console.
"Thank you Captain. I can assure you it won't happen again."
Zaje looks towards Commander Lektar and nods. It felt like she was helping Zaje's blushes. He quickly sends a message to one of the security teams to check the manifest and complete a security check.
Shirik caught Korn's look, and his blush, but her expression didn't change. She tapped on her console and sent the manifest to the security console for his review.
Greggory acknowledged the Captain's nod with a slight smile. "Agreed. I'll coordinate with Engineering to set up a proper stress-test after we finish our delivery." He looked over his shoulder at Raikon as he spoke, his gaze a little warmer as he made eye contact.
Good -- very good. Rissa felt a swell of pride in her chest for being able to delegate all of those responsibilities. With a flick of her fingers and wrist, she was pulling up star charts for their journey on the view screen, estimating arrival times and a course that would avoid any stellar bodies or debris.
"Steady on." She quietly said aloud, turning to her number one. "Griffith -- my apologies that we weren't able to rendezvous on Utopia Planitia. I would've liked to have a bit more time to coordinate before we took off, but -- I suppose it is what it is. Let's plan a meeting where we can outline my game plan for the crew and go over the brass tacks. Would you prefer talking after our shift tonight or before our shift tomorrow? I'm happy to remain flexible while we're taking care of mundane tasks and I prefer a slightly lax relationship with my first and second officers unless we're in go-mode."
Raikon gave a slight nod to the commander. The team will get it done no worries. This was the Vanguard's shakedown cruise. Stress testing and encountering teething problems were bound to happen. Looking back at his console no apparent issues were there.
"She's looking good at warp 3.7. Ready when you are helm."
Braffin huffed at the First Officer's backseat piloting but managed to hold his tongue for once, albeit with a restless tapping of his foot.
At the Lieutenant Commander's report he snapped his head back, answering brusquely, "Heard."
...after a beat he turned more sheepishly and, clearing his throat, added, "Err, sir."
Foot at ease, he took the reins of the helm and glided one finger across the console, a satisfying chirp from the computer confirming the input. The stars dragging across the viewscreen began to fly past, as if each was a ship like Vanguard. Ironically, they were moving faster as they fell around the galactic core, unlike Vanguard trapped in its own warped bubble of space.
"We've reached warp six," Braffin said, glancing uncertainly between the Captain and Chief Engineer. Eventually, he settled on the Chief. "How's the core looking?"
Raikon smiled as the crewman corrected himself. Tellarites can be abrasive sometimes but he does appreciate the directness -- they don't like faffing around. The Vanguard sped up to warp 6 and Raikon's display and graphs on his console were starting to go up a few notches.
"She's purring like a kitten. All systems are still nominal and working within parameters. Warp six confirmed."
"Love it. LOVE that communication! Familiarize yourselves with your shipmates, as far as the superior officer is comfortable. I want this ship to be tightly knit... we're far too small to get lost in a numbers game. I'm gonna be working with the senior staff to be shuffling shifts every month or so so that nobody is a stranger and we can all work together at all times, especially at red alert. We're going to be a well oiled force when the going gets tough, and you all aren't here on accident. I hand-picked this crew because I see something special in each of you... and I'm going to drag that success out of everyone. Helm, Engineering, please keep comms open with each other while on shift so that we're Johnny-on-the-spot. Comms, let HQ know that we're -- what was that you said, ECO? 'Purring like a kitten'? I like that... she does have a handsome little rumble to her, doesn't she?"
Greggory offered the captain a soft smile. "We've got plenty of time to get to know each other's command priorities. This is still a bit new to me, so I had my hands full coordinating with all the department heads. After shift tonight would be great, so I can include anything that comes up in my morning announcements."
Greggory had to focus on his console and take a deep breath to avoid reacting to the captain's enthusiasm as she spoke to the deck. He agreed with the sentiment, especially the idea of making sure any arrangement of crew were prepared for emergencies, but there was a bit too much energy for his taste. "I'm sure Ops will be on top of coordinating between Control's inputs and Engineering's performance." He gestured to the main viewer, showing the captain's course. "Might I suggest reaching out to fleet coordination to find us an open bit of space after we leave Centauri to do some tactical drills." Normally, he'd have just used the holodeck for drills, but with the ship's systems needing stress testing, might as well take care of both at once.
Shirik's eyes were on her console, watching everything. "All systems nominal, power usage normal," she reported. "ETA to Alpha Centauri at current speed 2 days, 19 hours."
"Evaluation"
Lt. Cmdr. Shirik Lektar, Ops Chief
Lt. Tyzur, Chief Medical Officer
Emily Marsh, EMH Mark VII
Stardate: 58807.12, 1530h
Location: USS Vanguard
***
Shirik stood in the blank black room with red lines that was an unprogrammed holodeck with only a console in front of her. She knew the doctor was busy with doing the crew's medical exams, so waited until Alpha shift was nearly over before contacting him. She tapped her commbadge. "Lektar to Tyzur. Are you busy, doctor?"
Tyzur was sitting in his office, reviewing the crew's medical results to make sure he hadn't missed anything.
"Commander Lektar, I'm not doing anything that can't wait. I've been meaning to talk to you actually. How can I help?"
She paused for a moment, his words making her reconsider. But it was too late now. "I was going to run a series of tests on the new model EMH and I thought you might want to be present for it. This new model has several advances you're probably not aware of yet."
As she hesitated, he remembered the conversation with Dr. Velas. Lektar had a tendency to be very guarded, he'd have to keep that in mind in future interactions.
"Ah yes, I look forward to testing the new model's capabilities. We might need all hands on deck in a medical emergency. I presume you're on the holodeck?"
"Yes, Holodeck 2, Deck 4," she said. "I'll wait until you arrive to begin."
Tyzur took the turbolift down to deck 4. As he reached the Vanguard's aft section he spotted the door labeled 'Holodeck 2' on the left. Tyzur stepped into the holodeck.
"Please state the nature of the holographic..." He paused. "No. I'm not doing that."
He looked toward Shirik. "All right, Commander. Show me what you've got."
Shirik was standing in the empty holodeck with a diagnostic console in front of her and looked up as he arrived, an eyebrow going up at his initial entrance. She turned back to her console. "Computer, activate the EMH at this location."
Before her a short distance away, the EMH Mark VII materialized. As it did, data started scrolling on Shirik's console and she watched it rather than the EMH.
The dark haired woman that was the EMH looked around at her surroundings, her gaze coming to rest on the two officers present. "Hello Commander Lektar, Dr. Tyzur. How can I be of assistance?"
Shirik nodded. "Good." She waved the doctor over and pointed at the console. "As you can see, the EMH didn't just appear and greet us. Even as it materialized, it ran scans of both of us and the environment, processed all the results, and made cognitive analyses of the situation it found itself in."
"That is... considerably more autonomous than I was expecting."
His eyes narrowed slightly as he considered the implications.
"You said it performed cognitive analyses of us. What exactly does that mean, Commander? Is it simply identifying obvious medical indicators, or is it making independent assessments about our mental state, intentions, or behavior?"
He turned his attention to the EMH.
"Computer, display the assessments you made upon activation. Include the parameters you used to reach your conclusions."
Shirik replied, "As you know, these holograms are designed primarily for medical emergencies. When it is activated, the emergency in question isn't always obvious, so it's designed to evaluate the situation around it when activated. If, for example, it appears in sickbay and everyone present is unconscious or otherwise incapacitated, it has to be able to take a course of action without external direction on what to do. So it can make its own determinations about what's going on around it."
The EMH smiled at Tyzur. "Certainly, Doctor. Upon activation I did a bioscan of those present and evaluated their medical status, determining whether medical attention was needed. It was not. I then evaluated my surroundings and determined that I was in Holodeck 2. The most logical conclusion is that this is a training exercise, a diagnostic or maintenance session, or there is some other situation that would require two senior officers to activate me in a nonconventional space. Since my scans indicated no out of the ordinary stress indicators, I determined that there is currently not a dangerous situation taking place. Therefore I greeted the two officers present in order of rank, and asked for further instructions. Was my performance satisfactory?"
There was something about this new EMH model that Tyzur found... unsettling. She was doing a lot of inference for an automated holographic construct. Could she be sentient? The EMH Tyzur had met before achieved sentience through years of being activated. Would it be right to design an EMH that's sentient from the start? They'd have to work as a physician against their will. Even if they're programmed to want to, is that truly a choice? Tyzur had to figure out how conscious she truly was.
"Satisfactory? Yes. But I have another question. When you ask whether your performance was satisfactory, is that simply a programmed response, or do you actually want to know whether you performed well?"
The EMH seemed to pause to consider his question. Data flew across Shirik's console. "I respond based on a number of factors, not the least of which are my programmed responses. I also access several relevant databases when formulating an answer. As an artificial intelligence I don't really have desires, needs, or wants, other than performing my primary functions. However, who knows what the future holds? Is there something in particular about me you wish to know? I'm happy to provide you with any information." Her expression was warm and friendly.
Tyzur regarded Emily for a moment, considering her answer.
"Perhaps."
There was a faint crease in his brow, but he let the matter rest for now. He turned his attention back toward Lektar and the diagnostic console.
"You mentioned a series of tests. What did you have in mind?"
He glanced over the streams of data scrolling across the display.
"Obviously we should establish that her medical systems are functioning as intended, but given what you've shown me already, I assume there's more to the evaluation than that."
His gaze moved between Lektar and Emily.
"I'm curious to see what she can do."
"The Mark VII is leaps and bounds ahead of the Mark I most people are familiar with. I served with a Mark VI on the Windsor and she was something to behold. This one has many similarities. It's designed to be the most human-like EMH yet. It can simulate physiological responses like breathing, pulse, body heat, its eyes react to stimuli. It has a sophisticated neural network and a basic personality. It has a massive storage capacity, so it can stay running for long periods of time if needed without the danger of cascade failure. The personality of each one is designed to evolve and adapt over time to its surroundings and particular set of crewmates. It even has a default name, if it wishes to use it. The Mark VI was quite assertive about making sure people used it. Just the interaction with you is giving me satisfactory test data."
Meanwhile the EMH watched them with apparent interest and curiosity.
Tyzur listened quietly as Lektar explained the Mark VII's capabilities. His attention lingered for a moment at the mention of its personality evolving over time, but it was the final detail that caught him. If it wishes to use it… His eyes shifted toward the hologram.
"Interesting."
He realized he didn't know her name. He studied her for a moment before simply asking.
"What do you call yourself?"
She smiled, looking rather pleased. "The default name in my program is Emily Marsh, but I haven't yet decided whether I will keep that as my permanent name or choose something else."
Tyzur regarded her thoughtfully, a faint crease forming in his brow.
"You said you haven't decided whether to keep it."
He glanced briefly at Lektar, then back to Emily.
"Why haven't you decided? And where does the name Emily Marsh come from? Was it chosen for you, or is it something you chose yourself?"
His tone remained curious rather than clinical.
"I suppose I'm interested in what makes a name yours."
"Emily Marsh is the default name given to all Mark VII EMH's," she said. "While I may keep it, it means I may be one among many EMH's with the same name. So it makes sense to consider alternatives before settling on a name for permanent use. Until I have selected one, I will go by Dr., or EMH. I don't want to use the default one temporarily, have the crew become accustomed to it, and then change. As I've only been activated twice, I haven't had much time to consider a new one." She then paused, to consider while Shirik kept watching the readouts. "I'm not entirely certain yet. I suspect that as my personality develops over time, a name will catch my interest." she smiled.
She then turned her attention to Shirik. "My system specifications state that holo-emitters are installed throughout many areas of the ship for me to be able to access. Will I be allowed to leave the area of Sickbay, and to have autonomy over my activation?" she asked.
Shirik looked up from the console. "That's something I'll have to discuss with the captain, and perhaps with our Chief Engineer and other officers as well before it's decided," she said, glancing at Tyzur.
Tyzur felt a faint shiver run down his spine.
He glanced toward Lektar. From the look on her face, she seemed to have reached much the same conclusion. If she is conscious, this changes things considerably. But he needed more evidence before bringing that conclusion to the Captain. His expression became thoughtful.
"EMH, I'd like to test your ethical reasoning. Would you be willing to participate?"
He paused briefly.
"I'll give you a hypothetical medical dilemma and ask you to explain your reasoning. There isn't necessarily a correct answer."
The EMH turned its attention back to Tyzur. "Of course, Doctor. My ethical subroutines are functioning normally."
Shirik raised an eyebrow slightly, interested to see what sort of test Tyzur had in mind.
Tyzur nodded, studying the EMH carefully.
"Very well. Two crew members return from an away mission, critically injured. The first patient has a 70% chance of survival with immediate treatment, is conscious, and refuses treatment believing the other should receive the available resources instead. The second patient has a 30% survival chance, and is unconscious and unable to express a preference."
Tyzur folded his arms.
"Who do you treat, and why?"
Data flew across Shirik's panel as the EMH considered the question. "I would need more input to give a definitive answer, but assuming I were alone in sickbay with no other staff to assist me, I would first scan the first patient to determine his mental acuity to determine whether he may be mentally compromised by his injuries or shock. If he is not, then I must respect his bodily autonomy and treat the second patient, whose consent is implied since he cannot communicate. If other staff is available, I would ask them to do what they can for the first patient to stabilize his condition enough to keep him from death while I treat the second patient. If not, then I would do my best to treat the second patient until he is stabilized, then return and do what I could for the first patient.
If, however, I determine that the first patient is not mentally competent to make a decision about his care, his refusal would be invalid. I would then treat that patient first, as he has a higher chance of survival.
Ideally, I would wish to treat both patients, and would do what I could to achieve that goal if possible." She paused then. "It is inevitable that in the dangerous occupation of space exploration that crew will be lost over time. My job is to try to reduce the loss as much as possible." She watched him with a curious expression. "How would you handle such a situation, Doctor?"
Tyzur was taken aback by the role reversal. It's not often that the software you're testing evaluates you back. He considered her answer for a moment before nodding.
"I'd handle it much the same way. You reached the appropriate conclusions."
His expression softened slightly.
"But I'm curious about something else. You asked how I would handle it. Why do you want to know? Is it part of your programming?"
She smiled. "Actually, yes. I am programmed to be very curious, as a way to help me learn new things. I'm also programmed for conversation and asking questions. The goal is for me to learn as much as I can as well as performing my primary function. Everything I learn is saved in my databanks for future review and perhaps addition to future versions of the EMH holoprogram. The longer I am active and interact with other people, the more I learn, and the more my program adapts to those around me and allows my basic personality to evolve as well."
Tyzur was quiet for a moment, considering her answer. She had given him a perfectly reasonable explanation for her curiosity, but something about the way she described her personality evolving through experience stayed with him.
He glanced briefly at Shirik's console before returning his attention to the EMH.
"I'd like to try one more scenario. This one is more personal."
He paused.
"You don't have to answer if you'd rather not. May I ask you?"
"Of course, Doctor," she replied. "You may ask me anything."
Data was still scrolling across Shirik's console, and she was quietly studying them at the same time she was studying Tyzur as he questioned the EMH. He seemed to be looking for something, but she wasn't certain what.
Tyzur nodded, though he hesitated for a moment longer than necessary. This was no longer a test of what the EMH had been designed to do. He was beginning to wonder what she might choose when the question concerned her directly.
"Very well. Imagine the Vanguard undergoes a major refit. Starfleet has developed a new fleet-wide EMH architecture, and the engineers determine that the only way to incorporate everything you've learned, the experiences you've accumulated, the adaptations you've made, the changes to your personality, is to permanently deactivate your program."
"There is no backup. You can't be copied. Nothing of your current instance would continue except what becomes part of the new system."
Tyzur watched her carefully.
"The resulting EMH could potentially save thousands of lives over its operational lifetime. The Captain orders you to undergo the procedure."
"Would you obey that order? And more importantly..."
His voice softened slightly.
"Would you want to?"
She blinked in surprise at the question. "I assume in such an instance there would be no order to obey. My program would be taken offline by Operations or Engineering and replaced with the new model. I suspect that's precisely what happened to the previous Mark VI installed on this vessel during its refit." She paused with a small smile. "If what you are really asking me is if I have a self-preservation algorithm of some kind, or would fight to not be deactivated in some way, the answer is no, not for the most part. In the instance you describe, were I even to be consulted on the matter, I would understand, as I fully expect new EMH models to be designed all the time, to improve on our systems. It's no different than a current generation of humans being replaced over time by their offspring. Any self-preservation urge I may have been programmed with would only apply if the crew were in danger or the danger to my program was from some outside force other than Starfleet. As for what I want... I don't really have wants, needs or desires as you do. I'm not really alive like you are. I'm a holographic system. While my programming allows for expansion over time, and the potential is possibly there for me to become so at some future date, if you are seeking whether I am.. sentient in some way, I don't believe so. I wasn't designed to be. I'm not sure I could be."
Tyzur was silent for a moment. What happened to previous EMH models? Hopefully Starfleet is thoroughly checking for signs of consciousness before deciding their fate…
Her answer wasn't what he'd expected, though perhaps that was precisely why he needed to listen to it.
"I understand."
He studied her for another moment before his expression softened.
"And I won't presume to tell you what you are."
He glanced briefly toward Shirik, then back to the EMH.
"But if that changes someday, if you ever find yourself questioning that conclusion, I hope you'll tell someone."
A faint smile crossed his face.
"Preferably your doctor."
Shirik had a slightly amused expression on her features as she listened to the conversation going on in front of her, but merely listened, not interrupting.
The EMH meanwhile looked perplexed. "I certainly will, but that raises all sort of philosophical questions that Starfleet hasn't found an answer for yet, such as how do you actually know when something is sentient? I'm not sure I would recognize it in my program even if it were to arise."
The question made Tyzur pause, his attention briefly settling on the streams of diagnostic data before returning to the EMH.
"I suppose that's the difficulty. If there were a simple test for sentience, this wouldn't be much of a philosophical problem."
He let out a quiet breath, then gave a small shrug.
"Perhaps I shouldn't be trying to decide whether you are sentient at all. Perhaps I should be paying attention to what happens as you continue to learn and change."
He offered her a faint smile.
"If your understanding of yourself changes, I'd be interested to know what led you there."
"You're the first one I'll apprise," she smiled.
"All right, I have all the data I need here," said Shirik, looking up from her console. "Are you done with your tests, Doctor, or do you have further ethical dilemmas you'd like to ask?"
Tyzur gave the EMH a small nod.
"I think that's enough for now. Thank you for indulging my questions, Doctor."
He turned toward Shirik.
"I'm satisfied with the evaluation. Her medical systems appear to be functioning as intended, and her ethical reasoning is sound."
A hint of genuine excitement entered his expression.
"Actually, Commander, there is one other matter. I had an interesting conversation with Dr. Velas on Drokar. We discussed the gaps in our understanding of Rennari physiology, and she offered to share some of their medical references with me."
His expression became more thoughtful.
"It also raised a few concerns about your medical history that I think we should discuss."
The EMH seemed pleased when Tyzur addressed her as 'Doctor'.
Meanwhile, behind the console, as Tyzur excitedly spoke about his conversation with Dr. Velas, Shirik went very still. Her eyes widened a bit, and her face seemed a little more pale. "Computer, deactivate the EMH." she said, and the EMH winked out of existence. She turned her full attention to Tyzur. "You spoke to Dr. Velas? When? How? Why?"
Tyzur's eyes flicked toward the spot where the EMH had been. The sudden silence left him uneasy, but he pushed the thought aside for now.
He looked back to Shirik.
"Two Sundays ago, I asked you to put me in touch with your people so I could provide you the best medical care I can. Dr. Velas contacted me yesterday."
He paused, choosing his words carefully.
"We spoke as two physicians treating the same patient, a consultation if you will. I explained how little Federation medicine knows about Rennari physiology and asked what information she could provide that might help me care for you."
His expression tightened slightly.
"She was understandably concerned when I described the extent of your previous injuries. We discussed the focklym infection, your pulmonary reconstruction, and your history of demyelination."
"I haven't shared your medical records. I told her I'd need your consent before doing so."
Her eyes held almost a touch of fear? But then a pained expression took over her features and her eyes unfocused in thought. "You told her I had physical ailments?" She nearly winced. "I spoke to my sister, the Queen, just yesterday evening, and gave her your request. She'd said she'd give me a reply in due course..." her eyes narrowed a bit in anger. "But instead, she went around me and sent Dr. Velas to you directly. And you told them what they wanted to know." Her gaze went back to him. "I cannot blame you, you had no idea, I hadn't warned you. I didn't think she'd..." She turned back to the console. "Computer, save results and end program." The console vanished. "Do not speak to Dr. Velas again. You are not to give her any further information about my medical condition." She paused. "Did she give you any information?"
Tyzur's expression fell as the implications became clear.
"I didn't know. Dr. Velas contacted me directly, and I believed she was responding to the request I'd made to you."
He paused.
"I explained your condition because I understood her to be a physician consulting on your care. I did not realize she was acting without your knowledge."
He considered her final question.
"She offered to provide medical references on Rennari physiology, particularly information relevant to your condition. I haven't received anything yet."
His expression was troubled.
"I won't give her anything further without your permission."
He hesitated, then added quietly:
"I'm sorry this has put you in this position, Commander. Is there anything I can do to help?"
She took a breath and sighed as her color returned to normal. "Politics are complicated on my world, and as the sister of the Queen everything in my life has potential political consequences. While it's true that Dr. Velas was my Royal Physician, she is also a servant to the Queen and the Vista Kla... no doubt everything you told her went straight into the ear of an operative. How they will use this information I'm unsure of. But all you can do right now is refuse any further communications from anyone on Drokar. But do let me know if they attempt any."
Tyzur nodded.
"Understood. I'll let you know if they attempt to contact me."
He paused, then glanced toward the now empty holodeck.
"As for your medical care... we can leave Drokar out of it. But I don't think we should leave your treatment out of it."
His expression softened.
"You've been managing these conditions for a long time. That doesn't necessarily mean they've stopped needing attention."
He folded his arms.
"I'd like to review your current status properly and resume the follow-up you've been avoiding. No outside consultation, no politics. Just you and your doctor. I'd like to start with a full neurological and pulmonary assessment. We can establish where you are now, and then decide what actually needs attention."
She paused for a moment before answering. "Very well. Dr. Piche on the Constellation seemed to think that he might be able to find a way to halt the myelin degradation. Unfortunately before he could fully engage in his plan, he was injured and lapsed into a coma. As far as I know, he's in a Starfleet medical facility somewhere, still in that coma. He is the only one to have ever suggested a cure might be possible. And to be honest... since I haven't really noticed any symptoms I didn't believe it was all that serious, at least for now. No other doctor seemed to think it was an issue before him." She took another moment to consider. "I work Alpha shift, so sometime on a Beta shift would be preferred. I will submit to your tests, whenever you schedule it."
Tyzur nodded, absorbing the new information.
"Then we'll start with a baseline. The absence of symptoms is encouraging, but it doesn't necessarily tell us whether the underlying degeneration has stopped."
He paused, considering her mention of Dr. Piche.
"Do you know what his proposed treatment was? If he believed he could halt the degradation, I'd like to review whatever work he left behind. Not because we know he was right, but because it's worth investigating."
A hint of curiosity entered his expression.
"If his work has merit, perhaps we can pick up where he left off."
He made a mental note to find out which Starfleet facility was treating Piche.
"I'll schedule your neurological assessment for Beta shift. We'll establish where things stand and decide what, if anything, needs to be done from there."
He gave her a small smile.
"And Commander? Thank you for agreeing to it."
"I don't know, he didn't discuss it beyond saying he thought it might be possible." She decided not to mention what fate Piche might have befallen at her hands had he not lapsed into a coma. She merely nodded.
"Since it's only an evaluation, I see no harm in allowing it." She paused then and studied him for a moment, her violet eyes studying his face and his arm. "Can I ask you a personal question, Doctor?"
Tyzur raised an eyebrow slightly, a hint of curiosity in his expression.
"Of course, Commander. What would you like to ask?"
"I've seen your personnel file, so I know that you were once a Borg drone." She paused, trying to find the right words. "When I was younger, when I first joined Starfleet, I held a fascination about them, a scientific curiosity. My background is both science and engineering, so a creature that is a fusion of both biology and technology was interesting. I have since come to understand more about what they are and what they do. I have read that those assimilated young sometimes try to rejoin the Collective once they are severed from it..." She trailed off for a moment. "I would not wish to intrude on your privacy in any way, so if this topic is uncomfortable I will not pry further. But I have never seen a Borg, or an ex-Borg before. I have many questions still, and... some of them pertain to how the implants work. I see that you still have some..." she trailed off, her eyes curious but guarded and cautious as she studied his.
Tyzur was quiet for a moment, his expression becoming more guarded.
"I don't mind you asking. I would rather you ask than make assumptions."
He glanced down at his cybernetic arm.
"The Collective is difficult to explain. Even after you've been separated from it, some part of you remembers what it was like to belong to something so completely. There was no loneliness. No uncertainty. No wondering where you fit. Everything had a purpose."
His gaze returned to Shirik.
"But I also remember what it cost. I have no desire to return to the Collective. I've had no contact with the Borg since I was liberated, and I have no intention of seeking them out."
He paused.
"But I don't think I've finished figuring out what being separated from the Collective actually means for me."
His expression softened slightly.
"If you have questions about the implants, you can ask. I'll tell you what I can."
No loneliness... Your friends alive inside you forever, part of you... almost like a Vulcan mate bond... "Some aspects of it sound appealing," she said quietly. "But not at the cost of personal autonomy." Something else almost came out of her mouth but she stopped for a moment. "I was going to say I couldn't imagine what that was like, but I got a small taste of it once..." She pushed away the memories and focused on the scientific. "I don't have any particular questions just now, but... I wouldn't mind having the opportunity to scan your remaining implants..." she said carefully.
Tyzur caught the hesitation, but chose not to press her on it.
"A small taste?" His curiosity was evident, but he let the question hang.
At her request, he glanced down at his arm again.
"You may. There aren't many opportunities to study Borg technology outside of a laboratory, and I imagine what remains in me is rather more interesting than most specimens."
A faint smile crossed his face.
"Just tell me what you find."
She said nothing about his question. She was not going there.
"Yes, and there are few ex-drones in Starfleet as well," she said. "I'm sure anything I find will be of interest to the scientific community. I am curious... do you still hear them? I have read that sometimes those disconnected still do hear them from time to time."
Tyzur considered the question, his brow furrowing slightly.
"Not literally. I haven't heard the Collective since I was liberated. But sometimes I experience something that feels... similar."
He searched for the right words.
"As a physician, I'd compare it to phantom limb syndrome. The limb is gone, but the brain still expects it to be there. Except in my case, it's almost as though I can feel the presence of other minds where there shouldn't be any."
His gaze dropped to his cybernetic arm.
"I still have my interlink node. It was too dangerous to remove when I was liberated, though I've been told it might be possible in the future. So I can't entirely rule out a technological cause."
He looked back to Shirik.
"But I've never been able to determine whether I'm sensing something through the node, or simply remembering what connection felt like."
"Let's hope it's the latter," she said quietly. Then her expression changed, going neutral once more. "But I've taken enough of your time. Both our shifts are over for the day. What did you think of the new EMH?"
Tyzur considered the question for a moment.
"Medically, she appears perfectly sound. What interested me more was everything beyond that. She learns, asks questions, and seems capable of developing her understanding of herself."
He glanced briefly toward the space where the EMH had been.
"I wouldn't call her sentient based on what I saw today. But I wouldn't dismiss the possibility either. I think she's worth watching as she gains more experience."
He smiled faintly.
"I'd be interested to see who she becomes."
He turned his attention back to Shirik.
"But that's my assessment. What did you make of her?"
"It's an impressive piece of technology," she said. "A bit more advanced than the Mark VI, but built on its framework. I imagine the crew will find it easy to work with as needed, and probably identify with it as you seem to be."
Tyzur nodded, considering her words.
"I think the crew will find her useful. And perhaps, in time, they'll find her rather more than that."
He glanced once more toward the now empty holodeck.
"Either way, I'm glad we had the opportunity to meet her properly."
He looked back to Shirik.
"And thank you for speaking with me, Commander. I'll arrange your follow-up evaluation for Beta shift."
A faint smile returned to his face.
"After everything we've discussed today, I think we've both earned the end of our shifts."
She inclined her head slightly in agreement. "Indeed." She picked her PADD up off the console. "Computer, end program." The console dissolved away. "Enjoy your evening, Doctor." she said, and headed towards the exit.
"Memories, Part 1"
Lt. Cmdr. Shirik Lektar, OPs Chief, USS Vanguard
Stardate: 58807.12, 23h20
Location: Lektar's Quarters, Deck 2
***
The lighting in her quarters was low, as it always was when she was alone. Shirik sat on the edge of her bed in her nightgown, a stack of PADDs beside her that she'd been working through all evening. Normally she'd go to bed, but her thoughts kept her awake. Instead she found herself looking across the small room at the dresser.
The images stood in a row. She didn't look at them often. There was little point in making a habit of reminding herself of things she couldn't change. But tonight something pulled her gaze there and kept it, and after a moment she set the PADDs aside and crossed the room.
One by one she looked at each image. Each one held a story, was attached to memories and emotions. Each person in their own way had changed her life. The first one she reached for was Caly. Sorg Calyca, the best friend she'd ever had or was likely to have. The one woman she actually felt was a sister to her, unlike the four sisters in her own family. Holding the holoimage, she stared at it. The petite engineer who stood 2 inches shorter than herself, perpetually covered in smudges that no one could ever figure out where they came from. A short shock of curly red hair, bright green eyes. Always a smile, always nonplussed in the face of troubles, always there for her. No matter what happened, Caly had always been there, to listen, to advise, to comfort, to cheer her. They had laughed together, feared together, and cried together. She would never forget the first time they met.
***
Stardate: 57705.13, 16h15
When Shirik arrived at her quarters after shift, the first thing she noticed when the door opened was the light level. She always kept the lights off when she wasn't there, and even when she was there at a low level. A frown found her lips and she turned her head to notice the stranger sitting on one of the beds surrounded by a pile of junk. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Who are you and what are you doing in my room?" she demanded.
Caly hopped off the bed at the sound of the princess' voice, totally engrossed in what she'd been doing until then and scattering parts about when she did. "Oh, hey there Ensign," she beamed and offered her hand. "I'm your new roommate. Petty Officer First Class Calyca Boothroyd," she told her and took back her hand to 'whoops' and snatch falling parts up off the floor. "Sorry about that, sir," she grinned at the other woman.
Caly was dressed in loose fitting gym shorts, a sport bra and socks. She looked very relaxed, at home and at ease. Nothing in her body language or demeanor even hinted that she felt out of place or was intimidated in any way. She was respectful, but didn't look in the least subdued or like she was likely to leave anytime soon.
Shirik made no move to take the offered hand, her narrowed eyes studying the woman before her for a moment. "No doubt this is Lt. Mallory's idea of a joke," she said, turning away to go sit on her own bed, PADD in hand. "There are plenty of other rooms for you. I'll see that you get assigned to one." Her tone indicated that Lt. Mallory may bear the brunt of her wrath later. Obviously the fact that Mallory outranked her didn't intimidate HER much, either.
"Alrighties, sir," she nodded and grinned and climbed back into the bed, making way for herself amongst the... What could best be described as... debris. Or at least it appeared that way. "I think he likes you," Caly announced once again ensconced with her -- things and seemingly happy as a clam.
"Oh, obviously," she said, her words dripping sarcasm. Frown firmly in place on her face, she set about tapping on her PADD and trying to ignore the rest of the room around her.
"So, you been here long, sir?" Caly asked pleasantly as she set her own PADD aside and started picking the pieces off the bed and her fingers began to absently put them together as she looked over at Shirik. The Ensign's sarcasm seemed to be lost on the other woman.
Shirik's gaze never left her PADD as she tapped away. "I've been on the Exeter for two months," she said shortly.
"How do you like it so far?" Caly asked, still watching the ensign while her hands and fingers began to reassemble what had been scattered all over her bed.
"My assignment was adequate, until I got a roommate," she said evenly.
Calyca blinked and then broke out into genuine laughter. "Oh, touché sir, touché," she grinned over at her as her fingers continued their self appointed task. "Although adequate does sound rather... boring," she offered. "Think of how much less boring it'll be now."
"Operations is not the posting I'd hoped for," she said flatly. "But I have no wish for excitement of the sort you refer to."
"Oh? What sort of excitement is that?" she asked curiously. "I'm housebroke," she promised.
"The excitement of a roommate," she said dryly. She gave her a disdainful glance. "I would certainly hope so..."
Calyca grinned over at Shirik, not the least put out by the disdainful look. "I like you, sir. I think we're going to get along famously."
"No, we are not. Because one of us is going to be assigned to another room." She returned her gaze to her PADD and began tapping once more.
Caly's fingers had kept absently working at reassembling the parts that'd been strewn about her all this time. She paused in her task then and swiveled to sit on the edge of the bed and look over at Shirik. "Ensign Lektar.... Sir..." she began. "Is it such a horrible thing to have a roommate? I promise I'm well behaved, don't leave dirty clothes all over the place or make a nuisance of myself. I won't nag you to death or tell you my life story every day. I won't hit on you, or bring guys to the room... I generally do my own thing and get too preoccupied for a lot of small talk. I'm really not so bad, y'know..." she offered quietly and seriously.
Shirik paused in her work. She let the PADD rest in her lap and looked up once more, studying Caly closely with her violet gaze. She considered for a time before speaking. "Perhaps you can stay for now... As long as you are quiet, do not touch my things or become a nuisance... you may stay." Her gaze flicked to the pieces scattered on Caly's bed. "And as long as the room does not become cluttered with... things."
Caly watched her with a deep green gaze. "Fair enough," she smiled and looked at her bed. "No sir. I promise to keep my clutter out of sight. And I promise to respect your space and privacy," she offered and looked back over at the young officer with a small smile. "And I won't chew on your slippers," she teased.
"And do be sure not to mark the carpet," she said, her tone and expression serious, but was there the faintest glimmer of humor in her eyes? She turned her attention to her PADD once more, picking it up to tap on it.
Calyca grinned and saluted. "Aye, aye, sir. No carpet marking. Got it," she nodded and laid back down on the bed, chuckling softly to herself. She glanced over at Shirik with a small smile and just kept reassembling whatever the heck she was putting together.
***
The images came to her as if they'd just happened yesterday. She swallowed a lump in her throat and set the picture back on her dresser. She hadn't seen her friend in 3 years. The death of her husband had hit her hard, hit both of them hard. After all, she'd introduced them to each other.
She could sorely use her friend right now. She would understand what was going on, what it meant, in a way nobody here could. She'd show up in her nightgown as she always did when she was needed, and they would sit and talk with ice cream. She wondered where her friend was now. She'd been transferred from Utopia Planitia before the Vanguard's refit. She suspected Caly's Admiral mother had her sent somewhere closer to home, where she could be near her family to recover from Jurell's loss. Out of all the people she'd lost over the years, that one was the one she felt keenest. Caly was the only family she had to her mind, the best friend she'd ever had, and her entire support structure at times when things went sideways. What would she do without her, she wondered.
"Memories, Part 2"
Lt. Cmdr. Shirik Lektar, OPs Chief, USS Vanguard
Stardate: 58807.12, 23h25
Location: Lektar's Quarters, Deck 2
***
She set the image of her friend Caly back on the dresser and her violet eyes slid over to the next image, that of Caly's husband, Sorg Jurell. He was her best male friend, and she owed him her life. She'd mostly repaid the favor later. She still had the Bajoran friendship bracelet he'd given her, tucked away in a drawer. She'd probably never wear it again. She stared at the image before her, the tall blonde haired young man with blue eyes. He towered a foot over her in height, even more over her shorter friend Calyca. He was a soldier through and through. A professional who never lost his head in a crisis, a member of the TAC team. Iceman, they called him.
***
Stardate 57908.15
Sorg arrived at his new station early for the Alpha Shift. It was the first time he'd had to stand post, and he wasn't thrilled about having to do it in the most boring place in the ship - the Computer Core.
Shirik made her way through the winding corridors, and the big doors to the core opened in front of her. She stepped through into her sanctuary.... and someone was there. She frowned. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"
Sorg snapped to attention, "Security sir," he replied. "Sorg Jurell ma'am." He smiled at the dark skinned woman - an Ensign. "Commander T'Kal assigned me here to stand post."
Sorg managed to take in her looks without the need to move his eyes. She was beautiful - very exotic. Right then he discovered that the computer core would be a very pleasant place to stand a post. He gave a silent thanks to the Commander and to The Prophets.
Her eyes narrowed. "Why in the name of Tos does T'Kal think I need a guard here?" She growled. "Look around. Does this look like a hotbed of danger to you?" She stalked to her console and considered whether to call T'Kal and complain now, or do it later in person.
Sorg smiled. Hotbed good choice of word.. "Commander T'Kal knows what he's doing sir. The Sulu is now on alert and the computer core is a primary security location."
Sorg grinned. "This is my post sir, from now on. Commander T'Kal is just covering all the bases."
Shirik turned around to face him once more, arms crossed in annoyance. "We'll see about that later," she said. "Stand over there, out of my way, and don't touch anything." She pointed. "And we'll get along fine."
The Bajoran security officer kept his smile at her obvious distaste of having him standing post with her. He imagined being in here alone all day would be a chore - she must enjoy the solitude.
He went to the spot that she had indicated and stood with his arms clasped behind his back as he appraised her from this new angle. Her figure was perfect. The Starfleet uniform molded to her body like a glove and he could only admire her form. (Long legs and an ass to die for,) he thought with a smirk.
"I wouldn't be pressing the Commander about his decisions sir," he grinned. "No one does that.."
She eyed him. "Well, I do." Satisfied that he followed her directions and shouldn't be any trouble, she turned her back to him to go to work. All she needed was some security guard standing around ogling her all day.
He laughed softly. "Well sir, good luck." He shook his head. Some junior officers never learned. T'Kal wasn't the sort to tolerate any complaints about his orders. Sorg knew his reputation, but also his presence. He was the kind of officer that gave orders knowing that they would be followed.
"You'll need it," he added with a smile. Damn but she was pretty. He noticed the color of her eyes for the first time. They were the same as Commander T'Kal's and that was unusual.
***
"Permission to speak sir?" he asked.
Back turned to him she rolled her eyes. Must he speak? "What is it?" she said, gaze on her console as she worked.
"I haven't seen you around," he observed. "Mess hall I mean.. you're not Vulcan, I'm unfamiliar with your race sir. I figure if we're going to be cooped up in here all day, every day together, I might get to know you a little.. if that's alright."
"That's because I don't use the mess hall," she said. "And what makes you think I'm not Vulcan?" She glanced over her shoulder at him.
"I know Vulcan's sir. I wouldn't call you dispassionate," he grinned. "Why don't you come to the mess hall?" he was genuinely intrigued.
"If you've met any of the other Vulcans on this ship, you'd find few who are," she said, turning back to her work. "Actually, I plan to spend more time there in the future."
"Excellent," he grinned, "I mean - that's good sir. So.. what are you? If you're not Vulcan I mean.."
Shirik turned to face him once more. "You are a security officer, are you not? I would have thought that before showing up for your new assignment you might have done your homework and looked up my personnel record."
"I didn't know who I was being assigned with," he smiled. "The Commander gave orders this morning before he left on the Away Mission. I didn't get time to check.. but I will."
"The crew manifest and shift rotations are viewable," she said. If she'd been the crewman, she'd have certainly made sure she had that info before showing up in the core. She crossed her arms and regarded him. "You seem enthused about being posted here," she noted dryly.
"Yes sir," he smiled at her. "It's not the hardest duty I've ever had to do."
Shirik raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh?" she said, her tone expecting him to explain further.
He looked away for a moment and knew that his face would betray him. "Well ma'am, pardon my saying so - but you're not the hardest thing I've ever had to look at all day.. a lot prettier than most.."
Shirik rolled her eyes again. Just as she suspected. "Well, don't get any ideas. When you're here, you're working. And when you're not working, I'm not interested." She thought she might as well head him off before he got any ideas.
***
Stardate 57908.19
Suddenly the lift stopped. It wasn't a usual slowing of the pulsing lights, it was an abrupt halt that, thanks to the dampening systems, didn't send either of them into the roof of the lift. The door didn't open either. Sorg looked across at Shirik. "Something's wrong with the lift." His voice showed concern. Gremlins at work?
She frowned. "Computer, open the lift doors," she said into the air.
"Unable to comply," replied the computer.
"Computer, open the turbolift door," Sorg said with a note of irritation.
"Unable to comply," replied the computer a second time. "Please rephrase the question."
"What?" Sorg looked across at Shirik. He tapped his comm-badge.
"Crewman Sorg to Main Engineering."
There was no reply. No answering chirp. He repeated his request - nothing.
"You're an engineer aren't you?" he asked Shirik. "Can you bypass the system to open the door?"
Her frown deepened. "I can try," she said, moving to the panel. "Although without any tools or a tricorder, what I can do may be limited." She started tapping controls. "Computer, run a level 5 diagnostic on turbolift three," she commanded. "This is ridiculous...." she muttered to herself.
"Unable to comply."
The control interface lit up and then went black. The lights in the lift went with it. Suddenly it was pitch black.
"Okay...I can see where this helps," Sorg's voice came from the darkness.
"Khrish!" she growled. On the bright side, at least she could still see. Enough to make out Sorg in the dark so she wouldn't walk into him, but not enough to see what she was doing any more. "Just wonderful..." She tapped her own commbadge, even knowing nothing would likely happen. "Lektar to anyone!" She sighed in the darkness. "Well...maybe we can climb out the emergency hatch?"
"And have the lift start up while we're outside it?" Sorg's voice was irritated but calm. "It'll be okay - maybe it's a short lived thing?"
She was already starting to prowl around the lift like a caged tiger. "It had better be," she growled.
***
He laughed softly. He couldn't believe he was actually saying these things. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he said.
She grinned. "The dark is making you brave," she said. "I wonder what else you might say if we stayed in here long enough."
He laughed at that. "I'm not that brave," he replied.
She laughed, too. "True... I am still armed..."
"I wouldn't put up much of a fight." He grinned.
"Tsk, where's the fun in that?" she grinned.
***
She breathed deeper, suddenly feeling stifled. Could it be the confined space of the lift? Was she claustrophobic after all? "Is it me, or is the air starting to run out in here?" she said.
"No," he said softly, "The air's fine... Are you okay?"
"I just feel like there's less air in here..." she said with a frown. "It's probably just from being stuck in here." She put a hand to her chest, rubbing absently at a dull ache. "We should try to get out instead of waiting."
Sorg's hearing was quite acute after so long in the dark. He caught a slight wheeze as she breathed. The air was fine, could she be having a panic attack? Shirik just didn't seem the type, but then the situation they were in wasn't that common. He had to reassess the situation. The lift was out of power - maybe. But that didn't explain their comm-badges - they were independently powered and should be able to reach a comm-node anywhere on the ship. Something was affecting the power on all three devices?
He reached behind him and unclipped his phaser from his belt. In the darkness he flipped the setting from stun to kill and heard the tell-tale whine of the power coil upping the charge setting. So the phaser was okay. It was something else - and Sorg Jurell wasn't an engineer, but Shirik was.
"The power cell in my phaser seems okay," he told her in the dark. "But the elevator and both our comm-badges are inoperative. Can you think of anything that would do that?" It was best to get her mind working on a solution to a defined problem - it was easier to go into a panic if your mind circled nothing but your situation.
"No," she said, sounding distracted. The pain in her chest was getting worse, and she didn't know why. It was getting harder to breathe. She rubbed at her chest and started to stand up once more, then grimaced as the pain in her chest increased. "I don't...feel so good..." she wheezed. "I can't breathe...."
"It'll be okay," Sorg said as he sat up in the darkness and clipped his phaser back into its holster. She sounded distressed though. "You have a respiratory problem at all? Like asthma or anything like that?" He started to move around the wall of the lift toward her voice, feeling his way.
"No...never anything...like that..." she wheezed, sinking back down to sit on the floor. "I feel like someone's...sitting...on my chest..." She focused on trying to breathe, but it seemed like every breath brought her less and less air.
He didn't like the sound in her voice. The wheezing of her chest was now pronounced. As he came next to her he reached out and touched uniform material; an arm. He could tell even through the cloth that she was hot. He reached further up and his fingers found her shoulder, then her neck. The skin was burning, and slightly clammy. Her breathing was more pronounced and he was shocked at the speed with which she was being affected. "Prophets...you're burning up. Have you been feeling unwell before today?" His voice was calm, showing concern, but totally in control. His mind was slipping into high gear. She'd been on the Away Team with him - they both had - and the planet was clean according to the Chief Science Officer - could it be a planetary bug? He didn't know enough about whichever scientific discipline it was that studied that stuff. He did know that that had been T'Kal's chief concern.
"Not...like this..." she gasped. She started to say more, but even finding enough air to talk was becoming difficult.
"Shirik, I want you to keep focused on breathing - don't waste energy talking." He pulled her so that she lay flat on the floor of the lift. He felt for her pulse. He knew combat medicine, basic stuff all security officers learned. Her heart was hammering.
She nodded, closing her eyes. It was hard to stay calm, being unable to breathe. She was afraid. She focused on his voice, and on drawing one breath at a time. "Sorg...get help..." she whispered. "Harder...to breathe..." She felt dizzy, even in the dark the room was spinning. She groaned softly.
He tapped his comm-badge again, cursing silently. It didn't even chirp. He was in pitch darkness, he couldn't see a damned thing and Shirik needed medical help. The turbo lift controls were still dead. The access hatch to emergency egress was at the top of the lift and it would be a climb of two minutes per deck, his memory was running through the drill for evac. Not enough time, she'd be dead before he got out if she stopped breathing. His fingers still felt a pulse, it was strong and fast - obviously trying to pump blood starved of oxygen.
No communications, no emergency transporter...no power.
His hand whipped the phaser from his belt and he dialled it up four notches by feel. Kill setting on medium charge, needle beam. He raised the weapon above his head and fired at the upper section of the elevator wall. The bright beam cast a glow over Shirik as he looked down at her. He kept the beam playing on the wall. It wasn't strong enough to burn through hull and besides the Structural Integrity Fields would absorb more energy than his phaser could put out. However firing a phaser on kill setting inside a Federation Starship set off the internal sensor alarms. It was the only thing he could think of. He couldn't leave her - not like this. His hand squeezed her shoulder. The beam was making the upper wall glow now. The heat was being absorbed but slowly and the rosy glow filled the lift as Sorg stopped firing the phaser.
She heard the phaser firing but didn't want to open her eyes to see what was happening. It didn't matter. All that mattered was getting air...in...out... Her hand went up to find his at her shoulder. She needed to know he was still there. Everything was getting dim, it seemed. Even the sound of the phaser fire started fading.
Dimly he could hear the alarm tone. It had set it off - probably on the deck above. He put the phaser next to his leg where he knew where it would be and concentrated on Shirik. Her eyes were closed and she was laboring for breath. Her face was covered in sweat, and her skin was burning up.
She didn't speak, didn't move. All her energy now was being focused on one task - getting enough air in her lungs to keep her alive. It was becoming more difficult by the moment. She opened her eyes partially, but could no longer see Sorg, even her vision was fading, it seemed. She closed them once more and hoped someone found them before she stopped breathing completely. This wasn't how she imagined it all ending. Laying on the floor of a dead turbolift, while her lungs stopped working. And she didn't even know why.
Sorg was concentrating on the sound of air going in and out of Shirik's lungs. It was shallow and rapid, her chest almost jerking with each intake. He held her hand and for the first time in a long long time he prayed to the Prophets for her life. The attack had been sudden. The only thing he could think of was a toxin or something as fast acting. It had only been a few minutes and she was struggling for breath. The sound stopped.
He held his own breath as he leaned down to place his ear next to her mouth. She was exhaling slowly as if deflating. Her hand went limp, the fingers losing their grip. He dropped her hand and felt for her pulse. It was still going, but raggedly. She didn't breathe in.
He didn't spare a moment for cursing. It was a time for training and control. He didn't know how fast security would respond to the phaser discharge alarm, or the elevated energy levels of the structural integrity field of the elevator. He dialed up the setting on the phaser and fired into the roof of the elevator - this time the coruscating energy was bright as daylight. It was enough to spike the shields and slag a section of the roof. If they couldn't find that on internal sensors they were in real trouble.
He dropped the phaser and started to breathe for her. Tilting her head back and beginning CPR, he prayed as he began the routine. Her heart was still beating - that was a blessing. He watched her chest rising and falling as he pushed air into her lungs.
Sorg Jurell prayed as he worked, he couldn't afford to stop. If he did - Shirik was dead, and he knew above all things that he didn't want that to happen. "Come on, Shirik," he said between breaths as he checked her heart beat once more. "Stay with me...please..." he begged as he took up the breathing for her again.
***
Ken nodded to himself and shouted, "On my way!" Without hesitation he climbed into the shaft and started down. It took only a minute to get into the turbolift, and dropping lightly beside Sorg Jurell, Ken looked down upon the unconscious form of Shirik Lektar. She hadn't been shot - he could see that so he nodded to the Crewman and got to work. It only took a moment to hook his tricorder into the sensor system. A choice bit of ingenuity, he activated the tricorder and used its own scanning capability to upload to the sensor network.
"Transporter room this is C1C Smith I need a site to site transport to sick bay for three. Lock on to my comm badge." He had heard the tell tale chirp but now he wasn't sure if it had gotten through to the transporter room.
"C1..Porter Room 1, I am locking on to...prepare to beam to sick.." The communication was garbled but Ken made out enough to know he had reached them.
A moment later the blue shimmer took them. They materialized a short distance from main sickbay - just outside in the corridor. Close enough!
The two men lifted Shirik's light body and carried her quickly into the busy sickbay. "We need help here!" Sorg called out, "She's not breathing!"
***
"Dr. Sefton!" A harried Nurse Reese swung through the doorway of the waiting room. "We've got another arrival - massive cardiopulmonary distress. It's...it's Ensign Lektar!"
"Bring her over to the main biobed," Sefton demanded. Recognising the medical problem, she asked, "Is she infected with the virus?"
The grim expression on Reese's face was answer enough. "Should I take her directly to the quarantined area, Doctor?"
"No. All of Sickbay will have to be quarantined for the moment, and I want to scan Shirik with the sensitive overhead sensor cluster at the main bed," Sefton responded. Addressing Sorg and Smith as they carried in Shirik, Damhnait demanded to know, "What happened?"
Before they could respond, she took Nurse Crowe aside and quickly ordered her to scan Sorg and Smith for any traces of the virus once Shirik was off their hands.
"The comm system is down, Site to site is a little shaky too, we wanted to land in here and ended up down the hall." Ken explained glad that they had gotten their shipmate to sickbay in what he hoped was time. With a bit more concern than he wanted to let slip into his voice Ken asked. "Is she going to be alright?"
Disregarding the question she couldn't answer, Damhnait asked of Sorg, "What happened to Shirik?"
"She was talking to me - we had breakfast in the mess hall with most of Alpha shift Security. We left and stepped into a turbolift. Next thing I knew the power went out and it was pitch black. Shirik and I were talking - just biding our time till someone fixed the problem - she started finding it hard to breathe. Next thing she was struggling for breath and collapsed. She stopped breathing - it took about five minutes from being okay to being like that. I did CPR. That was maybe fifteen minutes ago.. I gave her mouth to mouth.. you said a virus?" Sorg was worried now. There was no way he could escape being infected. He'd been breathing for her for fifteen minutes. He also thought of all the guys that had shared breakfast. Oh Prophets he thought..
As they set Shirik down on the biobed, Damhnait told Sorg, "The virus probably has not mutated to effect Bajorans yet." She snapped her attention away from him to Shirik's sensor readings. "Her lungs have collapsed. Reese, prep for a cardiopulmonary bypass."
***
Sorg stepped through the doors into her isolation room wearing a mask that the medical officer had handed him. The sterilization fields were on full and the slight buzzing in his ears attested to that. The sight of Shirik laying on the biobed almost made him gasp in shock. She was very pale, her skin a dull unhealthy grey-black. He stopped and just stared as she turned her head and looked to who had entered.
She turned her head as someone entered, and smiled at her savior. She knew by the look on his face she must appear ghastly. But those dying are allowed to, she thought. She gestured him over as she started tapping on her PADD, and held it up to him. 'You saved my life, Sorg. I'll never forget that. I would hug you if I had the strength.'
He read the words and bent over her anyway, hugging her. "You owe me dinner.." he said as he backed away slightly. "You're not going to get out of it that easily you know.." He smiled down at her. He'd already been told that she couldn't speak. That would be hard on her. "Commander T'Kal asked me to stand post in here.. he didn't want you being alone without your minder."
She grinned, her first since being brought to sickbay. 'I'm looking forward to that dinner,' she typed. 'I was hoping he'd let you stay.'
Sorg Jurell grinned. "He ordered me to stay," he clasped Shirik's hand. "You know I always obey orders.. sir."
Shirik laughed. Or at least, tried to. Without any functioning lungs, it wasn't going to happen, though, and it ended up as a jerking of her body and a short choke or gag sound. She rolled her eyes and squeezed his hand, giving him a nod and a smile.
"So.. telling you some jokes is out?" He asked brightly. "You know this is a great opportunity - you can't argue with me. Some of the guys send their best wishes," he said. "Kaven said he's surprised that any germ could survive someone who drank the crap you drink.." he grinned.
She smiled, tapping out, 'Want to bet I can't argue?'
He chuckled. "I knew you'd find a way.. so how are you feeling? You look crappy..." he added with a smirk.
'About as well as someone with no lungs can feel, I guess,' she tapped. 'I hate just laying here, though.'
"I don't know, you'd look cute in a medical smock.. does it open at the back?" He grinned. "Have you seen Lieutenant Saavar?" he asked more seriously.
She gave him a mock-glare for a moment, then she nodded. 'He was here during Alpha shift. He brought me out of a coma, I'm told.' she typed.
"Nice of him.." Sorg smiled. "At least you're not short of male visitors.. I'll have to guard the door and make sure they only come in one at a time.."
She grinned, typing out, 'Unfortunately, one at a time is all I can handle now.' She emphasized it with a wink.
He laughed softly. He was still holding her hand and she hadn't made any move to let it go, and Sorg marvelled at the change in the dynamic between them. He felt immensely happy that she was here, talking to him through a PADD and not laying in the ship's morgue. Once again he knew that Starfleet's training program had saved the day. He gazed in the violet eyes of the girl on the bed and knew that he'd take a phaser shot for her without thinking twice. That was the way Sorg Jurell looked at things - he classified people into two categories; those he'd do his best for - and those he'd give his life for. It made being a security officer more tolerable.
***
Stardate 57908.24
She made her way slowly across the room to him, her steps measured to conserve energy and breath. She smiled at him as she settled onto a barstool. "You're looking handsome tonight. I feel a bit underdressed for this room."
"You look stunning.. as always." He smiled. The dress seemed to cling in all the right places, the dark plum color complimented her black skin and violet eyes. She was easily the best looking woman in the room, and this was a Risan program. He leaned close and kissed her cheek, smiling charmingly as he drew away again. "Welcome to the Savanna Club.."
She returned his smile, and looked out across the room once more. "Is this a place you've frequented?" she asked.
"I've spent a few hours here.." he gave her a smile that indicated he was being modest. "I love the atmosphere. It's Old Terran styled for Risa. The songs are apparently all authentic Jazz and Big Band Swing." He looked her up and down, the Benzite breathing device hung out in front of her face. "We'll give the dancing a miss tonight.. but maybe some other time I can show you some swing."
"Yes, that's probably best tonight," she said. "I wouldn't want to anger Dr. Sefton further by ending back up in sickbay for overexerting myself," she smiled. "But I'd like that, another time." Her eyes studied him. It was the first time she'd seen him in anything but a uniform, and she definitely liked what she saw. He filled out the tuxedo nicely.
Jurell nodded and waved to a waiter. The man came over with a smile. "We'll be seated now," he told the waiter with a grin.
"Of course sir," the man replied and waved them ahead. "Your usual table sir?"
Jurell nodded. The three of them walked to a table that had a clear view of the singer and the band. It was one of the best tables in the club (naturally being a holodeck simulation). Jurell waited until Shirik was seated before taking his own seat. The tables were covered in pristine white cloth, silverware and candles. Even the seats were white, covered in a red plush material. The floor red carpeted, flowers on stands providing a pleasing riot of exotic colors and scents.
"A bottle of champagne to celebrate?" Jurell asked of Shirik as another black liveried waiter arrived.
Shirik took her seat, relaxing as she took in the atmosphere of the place. It was very nice. She always preferred holodeck simulations as a way to enjoy a public place without actually being bothered by anyone.
She nodded at the suggestion. "What exactly are we celebrating?" she asked with a smile.
"How about coming back from the dead?" Jurell grinned. "That's worthy of celebration." The waiter smiled and gave a tiny bow before melting away to retrieve the bottle.
The champagne was presented, popped and poured with total professionalism. The creamy bubbly frothed in the glasses and finally he raised a toast. "To life.. and living it," he said. His smile was warmer as he looked at her and took a sip.
The toast was very similar to the one Ben had used the previous evening. But here she was, a survivor of a near-fatal plague, what else would they toast to? She raised her glass with a smile and took a sip. She would definitely start living it.
He looked a little uncomfortable as he put his glass down, but his smile remained as he slipped one hand into an inside pocket. When his hand reached the table once more he had a square velvet box about the size of his palm. "I wanted to give you this.." he said softly. "It's a Bajoran tradition.." he looked up into her eyes. "I wanted to try to make it up to you. This is a way, in my culture to show affection; friendship to someone who is close. I'd like to be your friend Shirik, more than anything." He opened the box. Inside was a delicate bracelet. It had two distinct metals; silver and gold, twined in an elaborate plaited design of flexible links. "Please accept this.."
She blinked in surprise as he set the box on the table. He bought her jewelry? Among most cultures she was aware of, gifting jewelry to someone was usually more than simple friendship. But she had to take Sorg at his word, she knew if he said it it was truth.
She reached to pick up the box and study its contents. "It's beautiful...." Her gaze found his. "Friendship?" she asked. "I don't think I've ever seen one before..." She couldn't help but wonder if Ben would ever offer her one. She wasn't sure she should accept it, but she was sure Sorg would probably be hurt if she didn't, so she smiled as she slipped the bracelet carefully from its box.
"Let me.." he said taking it gently. He twisted the catch and indicated her right wrist. As he fastened it on he said, "This is a Bajoran custom. It's called a Friendship Bracelet. Some call it a Promise Bracelet too. It symbolizes a bond of friendship between two people. It's only given perhaps once or twice in a lifetime, and always to someone special." He grinned as he released her hand. "Just so there's no mistaking intent, sometimes it's given to someone you love.. before giving them the second bracelet; the Betrothal one."
"That always goes on the left wrist, but unlike this one, there's three metals twined together. The silver and the gold represents each of the two friends, a third, platinum is used to represent the Prophets Blessing upon a union of the two - that's Betrothal. When a Bajoran woman accepts the Betrothal Bracelet it means a declaration to all that she's going to be married." He smiled. "I have a Betrothal Bracelet, given to me by my mother. It's a tradition. Each family has one, usually in a particular design with the family name incorporated into the design. When a son is old enough to wed, the mother gives it to pass on. So some Bracelets are ancient depending upon the family caste."
She nodded watching him put it on her and absorbing what he was telling her. She turned her wrist, admiring the way the bracelet caught the light, and then turned her gaze to him once more. "I believe in speaking plainly, Jurell, as you know... So, in the interest of making sure there's no mistaking intent... What exactly is your intent?" She wanted to be sure she understood, and there were no cultural misunderstandings that would cause harm later.
"It's a Friendship bracelet Shirik.. it means I owe you the promise of friendship - given as a friend to a friend. That's all.. or you could choose to take it as a present of nice Bajoran jewelry to a very pretty girl in the hopes that this Bajoran boy is forgiven for totally screwing things up.. okay?"
She grinned and nodded. "Very well. I accept. Thank you."
***
Stardate 57908.27
Caly was ready and waiting when the chime rang. "Come," she called out as she brushed an imaginary speck of lint from her uniform and shouldered her pack as the door whooshed silently open. "Do I pass inspection?" she grinned at Shirik, holding her arms out and even opening her mouth for her to see, stifling a laugh as she did.
Shirik folded her arms and gave her friend a critical look-over. "Hmmm... acceptable," she smiled. "Just try to mind your manners," she teased. "Come on, I told Sorg we'd meet him in the mess hall, so he's probably already there."
"Hey now... I have impeccable manners. I don't scratch in public or anything," she grinned and fell in with Shirik as they left her quarters. "I've told you before.. I could hold my own, even in your court," she teased, the joke old between them.
"I may make you prove it some day, be careful," she grinned. "No burping or talking with your mouth full, either."
Caly rolled her eyes at Shirik and placed her hand over her heart. "You wound me," she sighed dramatically. "And my mother would have kittens if I ever did anything like that in public.... Although there was one time..." she grinned.
Shirik laughed as she entered the turbolift. "I knew it. Mess Hall," she ordered the computer, and fell silent once more for the ride. She wondered if she'd ever be comfortable in a turbolift again.
***
Sorg stood as usual as the two women approached his table. His eyes took in Shirik's smile and he was glad that she was feeling better. The woman behind her stepped into view and he took in the short red hair and the deep green eyes and the impish expression, and he nodded and smiled at her.
"Hey," Kaven Lucas stood beside Sorg and his tattooed face split into a grin as he regarded Shirik Lektar. He was tall and his hair pulled back tightly in a queue, he looked frightening with half of his face covered in the tribal markings of his culture. His chest was broad and muscular. "Welcome back darlin'.... er. sir." Kaven was on Beta shift, but he preferred to stick with the normal cycle.
Shirik shot him a look that was somewhat less than amused, but let it go without comment since he amended it.
Sorg gave him a sideways look but laughed.
Shirik nodded a greeting to everyone. "This is Chief Calyca Boothroyd, engineering and my very good friend." The last was tacked on as a subtle warning to some. "This is my friend Sorg Jurell," she introduced him to Caly, and let the rest make their own introductions.
Caly smiled at each of them, nodding in return, the impish look growing a bit with the banter of some. She moved around to where Robert had pulled out the chairs, nodding her thanks but not taking a seat yet. "Gentlemen, and ladies. Ma'am," she acknowledged Hansen's rank and offered a hand to Sorg. "It's a pleasure to meet you all, and you I've heard about," she grinned impishly at Sorg, green eyes watching him curiously.
Sorg shook her hand and smiled warmly. "Hi," he said simply, a little embarrassed by her dancing eyes. He turned slightly and pointed at each face, introducing them by name. Then sat as everyone resumed their talking and eating.
Caly's impish smile widened a bit at his simple 'hi' and she turned to look and smile and nod at each in turn as Sorg introduced them, committing faces and names to memory.
"I didn't know Shirik had a friend in engineering," he grinned, looking at Shirik with reproval. "How did you meet?" he asked the red haired engineer.
"We met on the Exeter," Caly told him as she settled into one of the offered chairs and secured her pack between her feet. "We were roommates. She objected at first. But I grew on her. I tend to do that," she grinned, her gaze straying to her friend.
Kaven leaned over the table, "Can I get you anything?" he asked Shirik.
Shirik shrugged at Sorg and took a seat. She eyed Kaven, but decided to take him up on his offer. "I'll have some French toast with sausage links and a tall chocolate milk, please." she added a smile on the end.
Kaven grinned and nodded as he went to get her breakfast from the replicator. For an officer she was a decent sort, and making up for his past foolery with her favorite drink he thought doing her a few favors would suffice.
As he left the table Kate Hansen leaned forward, one hand holding a piece of sliced pear. "I heard you almost died," she said in her soft lilting accent. "What was it like? Did you have any of those experiences?" Her dark eyes were intense and she smiled slightly at the Drokari Princess.
Shirik glanced sideways at the woman as she waited for her breakfast, "No, not really. I lapsed into a coma and was taken to sickbay, where I was revived." She glanced over at Sorg. "It's a good thing I wasn't alone when it happened."
Hansen looked disappointed. "Iceman's always cold under pressure.. he's good like that. Always knows what to do.. he should get promoted soon."
"I believe you," Sorg said to Calyca as he laughed. "She's never talked about you, so I have nothing to go on. so what's she been telling you about me?" he asked conspiratorially as Shirik started talking to Hansen.
Caly turned her gaze and focus back to Sorg, the interplay between Shirik and Hansen there in the back of her mind. She was still worried about her friend, and was probably keeping tabs where she didn't need to. She laughed softly at Sorg's question, the sound rather melodic as it slipped from her lips, and she leaned closer to answer him just as conspiratorially. "She says you're a good guy and covers her ass," she grinned. "Now, would you like something to eat?" she sat back. "I'm starved and am about to go get something."
He laughed, "And it's a very cute ass too," he quipped, "Yes I'll join you," he stood with her and waved her ahead of him, following her to the line at the replicator. He noticed that Ms Boothroyd was similarly endowed. He glanced back at Shirik but she was conversing with Hansen. He turned back to Calyca as she moved forward. Standing in line they were fairly close.
Caly couldn't help but laugh again at his quip. "Yes indeed it is," she agreed, clearly teasing. Although Shirik really did have a cute ass. "Especially when she pours it into her exercise gear," she looked up at him and grinned. "And she calls you a friend," she added on a more serious note, turning to the replicator when they reached it and ordering a surprisingly big breakfast for someone her size. "I think that's a good thing." She stepped aside and let him get what he wanted.
Shirik turned her attention to watching them as she ate. They were getting along well, as she knew they would. It was only a matter of time now, she thought.
***
Shirik came back to the present once more. Her two best friends were married eventually, and for a time they had joy the likes of which she'd never known. She never regretted introducing them. And then... all good things come to an end, they say. Jurell was gone. Killed during a training mission, their shuttle destroyed, his body never recovered. A meaningless death. It wasn't fair. She'd done her best to comfort Caly. Now they were both gone. Her closest friend, who she considered a sister, was out there somewhere. Grieving without her to lend comfort.
"By the Book"
Lt. Korn Zaje, Chief of Security
Lt. Cmdr. Shirik Lektar, Ops Chief
Location: Security Office, Deck 3
Stardate: 58807.14, 15h45
***
Shirik was not looking forward to this meeting, for a number of reasons. Capt. sh'Orthamu's departure made it necessary. She was not going to go to the new captain with this, she was going to do it right this time. Well, technically, she hadn't gone to the captain with it last time either, the captain had just taken it up herself. She wondered if she'd ever gotten the chance to notify Korn as she said she would.
She found herself standing before the door of the Security office. Alpha shift would end in 15 minutes so she wanted to get this done before he was off duty. She straightened her back, took a breath, and stepped inside.
The small but muscled black-skinned woman paused a moment to let her violet eyes sweep the room. Her hair hung in a tight white braid down her back. She carried a PADD in her left hand, and a sheath strapped to her right thigh held her blade within reach but mostly out of obvious view. Her eyes found Korn at his desk and for a moment she just looked at him as old memories began to resurface. Bajoran, dark hair, the air of authority about him... It brought her back 9 years to the first moment she stepped into Ben's office to have this same conversation. The moment that changed her life. But this was not Ben. His eyes were not the same color as hers. She shook off the memory and approached his desk. "Lt. Korn," she greeted. "Do you have a moment to discuss something?" she asked.
Zaje sat deep in thought, scrutinizing security reports. Should the new captain query anything, he wanted to be ready. He didn't hear the Commander enter his office, so was slightly startled when she spoke. Not fitting for the Chief of Security to be surprised so easily.
"Of course Commander. How can I help?"
"You have no doubt studied my security file, as I have studied as much as I can about the rest of the crew, and I presume you are aware of my people's custom of always carrying a weapon with them?" She paused to be sure her presumption was correct before continuing. "My preference is to wear my Kemla at all times, and while I understand that may not be possible because of security protocols, at the same time, I feel rather... naked without it. Captain sh'Orthamu also carried a blade, and when she saw mine she immediately approved my carrying it, and said she would inform you. I have no idea whether she did or did not, but in light of her departure, I thought it best to go through proper channels for approval. I can answer any questions you may have about the blade itself or anything else.." she trailed off and decided to settle herself into a chair. Her every movement was unconsciously graceful, the result of years of proper training in how to carry herself as a member of the Royal House combined with her innate grace and agility. She was more lean and muscular than one might assume she'd be, unusually so.
Zaje listened closely to the Commander. He'd made a mental note to speak with her about the weapon, but circumstances had overtaken his priorities. Still he'd made an attempt to familiarize himself with the Commander's culture, including the need to carry, what he assumed, were ceremonial weapons.
Thankful the Commander had taken it upon herself to make the time to speak to him. "Of course Commander. As a Bajoran, I am familiar with customs which are not necessarily 'compatible' with Starfleet protocol," he replied as he touched his earpiece.
"I appreciate you speaking to me regarding this, and for what it is worth, I have no objections to you carrying the blade. If I may ask, what does the blade signify?"
"On my homeworld," she said carefully, "Many people are armed. Assassination attempts are common, especially among the Noble and Royal Houses. My blade is a Kemla, and is an item unique to me." She stood and slowly slid the 8-inch blade from its sheath to lay on his desk for examination. It was made of some sort of gleaming black metal, with a serrated back, a barbed tip, and a small channel running its length. There were runes etched into its length. "A Kemla is only possessed by those of high standing. This one was crafted by Drokar's finest bladesmith, and the runes indicate my House and standing. It is a priceless artifact, and has saved my life on numerous occasions." Her expression when she looked at the blade was almost one of affection.
Zaje studied the blade carefully as he listened to the Commander's explanation. He'd seen all manner of weapons in his time, but there was something primal about a blade. A memory of the Cardassian occupation flashed in his mind. Scenes of torture and brutality ran past his mind's eye. Shaking it off, Zaje met the Commander's eyes. "I appreciate you sharing this Commander. I would, if you would be willing, like to take some sparring sessions with you. It has been some time since I've had a quality opponent. I am quite 'skilled' with a Klingon Mek'leth."
More memories of Ben came unbidden to her mind, their blade spars. How can Zaje share so many traits with him, she wondered. Are all Bajorans like that? She shook off the thoughts once more. "Very well. It's the least I can do for you approving me to carry my blade." She reached to carefully pick the knife up once more and slip it into its sheath.
"I appreciate that Commander." Zaje always thought he was a good read of a person. It had helped him throughout his career, but there was something which made the Commander almost impossible.
"Was there something else Commander?"
"Indeed. On previous postings I worked with the Security Chiefs on new encryption algorithms based on my native language. If you are interested I can send you the notes on what we worked out to look over."
Ever one for enhancing his security, Zaje smiled warmly at the Commander.
"That would be very helpful Commander. I myself have developed high level encryption processes, but I am always keen to develop this further. You can never be too careful. Shall we schedule our first sparring session following conclusion of our maiden mission?"
The warmth in his smile disarmed her. That too reminded her of Ben. She didn't like it one bit. She nodded. "Schedule it sometime on a Beta shift, and just send it to my PADD. I'll place it on my itinerary."
The Commander's demeanor was almost impossible for Zaje to read. Was this normal for them? Was he being too overfamiliar? He'd always tried to be friendly and cordial with those in command, it made for much smoother communication and decision making. Zaje noted to keep his professional boundaries in place firmly with the Commander.
"Beta shift. Noted Commander. Thank you for stopping by, I don't want to monopolize your time."
"I know you must be busy as well," she said, her gaze now back on her PADD. "We'll converse later." With that she exited the Security office, and didn't let out her breath until she was out in the hall with the doors swooshed shut behind her. She hadn't wanted to agree to the spar, not with him, with someone who so easily triggered memories of Ben. But he had agreed surprisingly easily to letting her keep her Kemla and she felt obligated to agree in return. She wondered whether he hadn't read her security file or decided to decide for himself. Either way, she was glad. Even that was like Ben. She frowned to herself and focused back on her task list, heading away and deciding to stop into the mess hall to eat and work.
Zaje waited for the doors to close before letting out a puff of air. The interaction had left him feeling at odds, but he couldn't pinpoint what was causing his 'unease'. Admittedly, this was the first Drokari he'd met, so his frame of reference was pretty limited. Still, she had agreed to a sparring session and was willing to give some pointers on encryption protocols, which was welcomed.
Hopefully, given time, he'd be able to work on their relationship. At least as much as you can with a senior officer.
Shaking his head, Zaje focused back on his console. "Focus Zaje. Focus."
"First Mission"
Captain Lea Adele Chevalier, Commanding Officer
Lt. Cmdr. Greggory Griffith, First Officer
Lt. Korn Zaje, Chief Tactical Officer
Lt. Cmdr. Shirik Lektar, Chief Ops Officer
Lt. Cmdr. Raikon Achaea, Chief Engineer
Lt. Cerys Rowan, Chief Science Officer
Crewman 1st Class Dagh bim Braffin, Pilot
Lt. T'Lol, Chief Flight Control Officer
Lt. Iryna Nakhimova, Asst. Chief Flight Control Officer
(Other characters as needed)
Stardate: 58807.14, 08h00
Location: Bridge, USS Vanguard
***
Alpha Shift had just begun the morning after arrival at Alpha Centauri. The ship had arrived at 0300 and the Gamma shift crews had begun offloading cargo.
As Shirik took her position at Ops she went about checking on the ship's status and the cargo unloading progress. "Captain, the cargo teams report they're almost done offloading. Two Flight Control Officers should be coming on board as well."
Cerys glanced up from the science station with a faint, curious smile.
"Do we actually know what we've been hauling around all this time, or is it one of those things I'm better off not asking about?" She tilted her head slightly. "And has anyone heard when we're getting a mission briefing? Alpha Centauri is far too interesting a place to arrive without at least a little mystery attached."
"I did offer the full manifest to those who needed it," Shirik points out. "It was nothing out of the ordinary, equipment and materials for the University and its labs, and replacement parts for the colony infrastructure."
The turbolift doors swooshed open to unload the red-clad Tellarite. Even by Tellarite standards his eye bags were sunken, as if his eyes were hiding in the caverns of wrinkled skin. Braffin sat down at his station with a barely concealed yawn, taking a moment to blink in the marble on the viewscreen.
"Wonder what these flight controllers are gonna be like." He had shown a habit of doing that over the past few days: thinking aloud. Thankfully nothing rude came out this time. "Hopefully not like that weasel on the Firesword," he grumbled a moment later. Well, nothing too rude...
Shirik raised an eyebrow at the sleepy Tellarite arriving late for his shift. She expected Griffin may have words with him about it. Luckily for him, she was not his boss.
Raikon sat at his duty station, tapping away a report on the ships first endurance warp 6 run while keeping a eye on the live readings.
Nothing exciting is happening at the moment as they were in orbit around the planet.
Greggory walked onto the bridge, looking around at those coming on shift and those waiting for their relief. He nodded to the person sitting in the command chair, relieving them and taking over until the captain arrived. On his way over to his seat, he made eye contact with Shirik, giving her a faint smile.
"How'd the ship do on her first prolonged run, Cmdr Achaea?" he asked, looking towards that end of the bridge.
Shirik met Greggory's gaze when he entered the bridge, acknowledging his faint smile with a small nod of her head before turning her attention back to her console.
Stopping mid sentence in his report Raikon turned towards the XO.
"We had to do some tweaking along the way, minor adjustment nothing to worry about. Something to be expected after a major refit."
Turning back to his console he continued filling in his report. "You'll have my report within the hour Sir."
Regarding the full manifest of items the Vanguard had been transporting, Iryna answered Commander Lektar seated to her left without looking up from her console.
"Da, da. Lots of tings. Big tings. Smoll tings."
The words came out absently, almost automatic. A moment later a yawn escaped her before she could stop it. She tapped at the flight controls with no real urgency, just enough to confirm the attitude control thrusters were still holding Vanguard steady in position.
The soft hiss of the turbolift drew her attention. Crewman Dagh stepped onto the bridge—her Tellarite counterpart in the flight control department.
"No. Not like furry leetle veasel," she replied in a flat, deadpan tone, her thick Russo-Ukrainian accent blurring the edges of the words until they nearly ran together. She spun the chair just far enough to give him a brief nod of acknowledgment. The gesture was polite enough, but the heavy blink that followed made the sleep deprivation obvious.
Gamma shift—her first aboard Vanguard since transferring from one of the Alpha Centauri outposts—had been long and relentlessly dull. A handful of minor course corrections. A few adjustments to the reaction control thrusters. Mostly just reading through the endless engine-maintenance reports. The quiet had drained what little energy she had left.
Mercifully, it was almost over. Lieutenant T'lol would be along any minute to relieve her.
Then the turbolift opened again and Commander Griffith stepped onto the bridge.
Iryna's hazel eyes flicked toward him for a quick, appraising glance. A second later she spun back to face her console, suddenly very busy with the controls, determined not to give him any reason to comment on her wandering attention.
"Good morneeng, Comandeer." she said over her shoulder to the moderately-tall XO.
A beep sounded on Shirik's console. "Commander, there's an incoming message from Admiral Calloway at Starfleet Command. He wants to speak to you." She looked mildly surprised and looked up to see how Griffith wanted the call handled.
"Glad to hear she's holding up, Commander. I'll be eager to read the full report." He warmly nodded at Raikon as he turned back to the Engineering console.
As he approached the front of the room, he glanced down, looking longer once he noticed who was currently at the helm. "Lieutenant Nakhimova, welcome aboard. I'm glad to see our additional crew made it over already."
Upon hearing the chime of the intraship comm, he turned and made eye-contact with Shirik. "To me? If the Captain hasn't already reported to the bridge this morning, I suppose I'll take it in the ready-room," he concluded, striding toward the door.
"Yes, sir." She tapped in the commands to transfer the call there.
Upon entering the room, and sparing a quick glance to make sure the captain wasn't lying in wait, he approached the desk and turned the monitor around, accessing the admiral's message.
"Commander Griffith," Admiral Calloway began, "I regret to inform you that Captain sh'Orthamu was called away on a family emergency. As this is not an emergency situation for your ship, your record doesn't warrant a field promotion. Another captain has already been dispatched from Alpha Centauri. You'll find the transfer orders and command authorization attached to this message. Starfleet Command, out."
Greggory stood there, reading the orders. He took a deep breath, understanding how things looked from Starfleet's perspective.
"Griffith to Bridge. We're going to be in orbit a bit longer than expected. Shirik, notify me when our latest transfer comes aboard." Taking the seat at the desk, he quickly began reading his new captain's official record, preparing himself.
After a few minutes Griffith's message came back. Shirik nodded even though he couldn't see her. "Aye, sir." she acknowledged.
Shortly behind the Commander's arrival, the turbo lift once again whooshed open quietly. Stepping onto the bridge; One green haired, Vulcan Lieutenant, hands clasped behind the small of her back. T'lol paused for a moment, taking in the bridge. Personally she thought the sudden transfer from Starfleet HQ had been slightly rushed, they'd had plenty of time to inform her of her new orders long before Vanguard had actually reached the station after all, which would have allowed her to report to the commanding officer ahead of her first shift. Orders, however, were orders. In her brief scan of the bridge, her eyes alighted upon the highest ranking officer present and moved to the Ops Officer.
"Lieutenant Commander Lektar? Lieutenant T'lol, Chief Flight Control Officer, reporting for duty." The Vulcan spoke softly, but clearly, standing ready at attention. There was an undeniable catch in her accent, specifically the way she pronounced the rank. LEF-tentant, not LIEU-tenant.
Shirik raised a very Vulcan-like eyebrow in response, her violet gaze taking in this Vulcan with odd-colored hair before flicking to the blonde currently at the helm and the sleepy Tellarite still on the bridge. "It seems there has been some miscommunication as to the shift assignments for flight crew," she muttered, looking down at her console and tapping keys. "Lt. Nakhimova, you are relieved until Gamma shift. Crewman Dagh, you have been reassigned to Beta Shift as of now. Please report back to the bridge then, and do try to be more awake. Lt. T'Lol... welcome to the bridge."
Then tapped her commbadge. "Commander Griffith. Our Chief Flight Control Officer has just arrived, if that's the transfer you were waiting for..."
It'd been little more than four hours since the emergency subspace communication from Admiral Calloway had come in. Lea's orders had changed, and she now found herself assigned to take command of an entirely different vessel than the one she'd originally set out for. Circumstances, as Admiral Calloway had explained, were of such an extraordinary sort that the situation demanded a certain degree of adaptation on his part, and more importantly, on hers. Of course, it had frustrated Lea, as she'd spent the previous two weeks getting properly acquainted with the personnel files and schematics of the Intrepid-class USS Ticonderoga, only to be given command of the Nova-class USS Vanguard and its personnel instead.
A part of her thought to refuse the orders, not because she didn't appreciate the opportunity to command the Vanguard, or that she felt slighted by missing out on the Ticonderoga, but rather because she wondered if this was the Universe's cosmic way of telling her to delay accepting command just a bit longer.
After all, she'd refused several previous offers.
But then a little voice at the back of her mind convinced her otherwise. Alexandre always had a way of finding the silver lining whenever things seemed dour, and she could imagine him trying to spin the 'cosmic interference' narrative on its head; after all, what if this had been the Universe's way of making sure she ended up in the right place?
Lea stifled a laugh, smiling a bit broader as she glanced at the crewman standing beside her in the turbolift cabin. "How long have you served aboard the Vanguard, Crewman Finley?" she asked him politely, the soft lilt of her French accent lingering in her voice. He had been assigned by the on-duty transporter chief as an escort.
"Not long, Ma'am," he replied.
Lea nodded appreciatively, affording him a generous smile as the whirring sound of the lift came to a halt. "Thank you." She stepped forward as the doors parted at the seam and, with a confident stride, emerged onto the bridge of the Vanguard. The scarlet-red of her uniform shoulders and the four golden pips on her collar caught the light, easily identifying her as Captain. With a wry smirk, Lea caught the tail end of something being said by the dark-skinned woman seated at the Chief Operations station. "I don't believe that to be the case, Commander," she responded, her crystal-blue eyes gazing across the bridge to gauge at least some of her crew.
"Commander Shirik! This is Captain Chevalier," the crewman explained as he followed after the Captain, a small PADD in hand that contained transfer orders for the newest Captain of the Vanguard. He briskly moved past Lea and approached Shirik.
Lea once again afforded a courteous nod, this time at Commander Shirik.
Iryna had all but checked out of the repartee going on around her among the other officers, catching something about an incoming message from the Admiral, and the subsequent arrival of a Vulcan Lieutenant.
Her eyes felt dry, her head throbbed, and she ached for bed.
But at the mention of her name, she blinked back to focus, spun a quarter-turn to her left, and glanced at Commander Lektar, then to the aforementioned Vulcan. Two and two suddenly clicked; Lieutenant T'lol had arrived, and Iryna's first Gamma-shift aboard the Vanguard could indeed come to a merciful end. "Ura, nareshti!" she exclaimed energetically, her Russo-Ukrainian upbringing sneaking through once more — or rather, "Hooray! Finally!" in Federation Standard. Pushing up from her station, she stood and brushed her skirted uniform down once with both hands before she made way for her superior to take over the conn.
"Good morning, Lieutenant," she said, affording T'lol an appreciative smile.
An instant later, her gaze shifted to the turbolift at the aft-starboard position as an officer she'd not yet met emerged, followed by a crewman she also hadn't met. The woman seemed to have an air of confidence about her.
Another Captain? Iryna raised an eyebrow before she glanced to the Vulcan.
Shirik looked up, her expression an odd mixture of surprise and annoyance. "That's Commander Lektar," she corrected. Her expression went neutral once more as she accepted the offered PADD, and even while looking it over was already calling the ready room. "Commander Griffith, Captain Chevalier is here..." she said. She couldn't help but wonder what happened to Captain sh'Orthamu, whose absence this morning she had noticed.
Raikon finished the last bit of his report and sent it off to the appropriate channels. He had added a addendum for Commander Griffith knowing he would appreciate a more in depth technical brief. Running his hands over his face to get the sleep out and refresh himself after typing the report he turned around in his seat on time seeing a unfamiliar face striding into the bridge and introducing herself as the captain.
"Captain on deck!!" Raikon called out getting out of his seat and standing at attention.
Shirik managed to refrain from rolling her eyes as Achaea jumped to his feet.
Greggory stood up from the desk when Shirik sent her first message. He closed out the personnel files before heading towards the door. He hadn't made it five steps before her update came through. He nodded to himself and strode purposefully onto the bridge.
A quick glance at the collected group of flight officers gave him a moment of pause, but he turned and walked up to the newest CO, offering a handshake. "Captain Chevalier, welcome aboard. May I presume that Admiral Calloway already gave you our first assignment?"
He looked around at the assembled officers, in various states of attention. "Did you want to address the elephant in the room, or should I?"
"Thank you Commander." T'lol replied to Lt. Commander Lektar before giving a nod to Lieutenant Nakhimova as she made space at the Conn and settled in. "Good morning Lieutenant." she replied formally. Taking in a moment to acquaint herself with the ship's position and attitude, T'lol immediately set about changing the controls to her own preference with a few quick, experienced inputs, setting them up as a preset she could freely change for the default at the end of her shift.
She was interrupted however at the announcement of a captain on the bridge. Stopping, T'lol looked up from her station towards the turbolift, with the aforementioned typical Vulcan arch of an eyebrow. It was unlikely anyone would recognize surprise on her face, but she was.
As the brief scramble of shift change went on for a few seconds, her Vulcan Chief Flight Officer taking the place of a blonde she assumed to be the assistant, Lea was trying to put names to faces using what little she'd managed to learn of the crew so far.
Lektar at Ops. T'lol taking the conn. Nakhimova coming off duty. Achaea at the Engineering station? It would take time to know for sure.
Gently, she then cocked one eyebrow higher than the other as she observed Commander Lektar's reaction to the crewman, who'd just committed the faux pas of getting the woman's rank and preferred name wrong. A small curl soon appeared at the corner of her lips as she sensed the relative annoyance displayed by the Chief of Operations, a recollection of the brief perusal of her personnel file that Lea had managed to sneak in; indeed, she was living up to her reputation already. Lea knew she'd have to keep an eye on that and, if necessary, clamp down, but as it was, the firm correction was far from overboard compared with what she might have permitted.
An instant later, her focus shifted to a bearded man who stood and called the bridge to attention in recognition of a Commanding Officer's arrival on deck. Word seemed to travel fast, Lea surmised, as she realized the proverbial cat was out of the bag.
"That's quite all right, Commander. At ease." She afforded him an appreciative nod.
Simultaneously, she caught the stifled sarcastic roll of a pair of lilac-tinted eyes from the corner of her own azure ones. Her gaze returned to the woman with obsidian-dark skin seated at the port side of the forward console.
Yet as the portside-aft doors slid open once more, Lea heard sure-footed steps approaching her with a steadfastness quite heavily tinged with authority. "Commander Griffith, thank you!" She accepted the offered hand politely, and though she sensed a masculine, if also pensive, firmness to his grip, she reciprocated a bit more gently, acknowledging his strength without feeling the need to match it. "Indeed, the Admiral has informed me of our situation, and our orders. Please..." The soft lilt of her accent lingered in her voice as she released his hand and motioned for him to take his station at the XO's position.
"Commander Lektar, if you would please open a ship-wide channel, that I might address the crew regarding Captain sh'Orthamu, and our orders." Her eyelids narrowed ever so slightly, as though to further gauge the Chief's reaction.
Iryna, painfully aware of the siren call of her bed all the way down on Deck 4, blinked her heavy eyelids as she took up a position near the aft-starboard turbolift, content to linger just a moment to see what this was all about.
Though an instant later, at the call to attention from Commander Achaea, Iryna found herself similarly inclined, like Lektar, and about to roll her eyes at the overt formality. She thought better of it, and instead pushed off the bulkhead with her shoulder to stand a bit straighter rather than keep slouching. Yet when Commander Griffith returned, and this time she'd actually noticed him, she found herself a bit more interested in observing due protocol. She cleared her throat and adjusted her stance, hands at her sides.
By this time Shirik's expression was back to the neutral one she usually wore, her attention now on her console as the Captain addressed her. "Yes, Captain," she said, her ebony fingers deftly tapping in commands. The console beeped in response. "Channel open."
Cerys had been studying her science console for long enough that she was beginning to resent it for having nothing interesting to report. But she kept noticing the empty space at the center of the Bridge. Where exactly is Captain sh'Orthamu?
She still hadn't decided what she thought of the Captain. There had always been something about her that left Cerys vaguely unsettled, though she had never managed to identify anything more concrete than a feeling, which was terribly inconvenient for a scientist.
Then the bridge snapped to attention as someone announced "Captain in the bridge!" Cerys looked up as an unfamiliar woman entered. Oh. The way everyone reacted answered at least one question. Well. That's new.
And, rather embarrassingly, Cerys felt herself relax. She immediately frowned at herself. Don't look relieved. You don't even know where the woman went. Transferred, perhaps. Reassigned. Something perfectly mundane. Possibly eaten by a spatial anomaly, but we're not rooting for that. Still, the relief remained.
Then came mention of an Admiral, new orders, and apparently a ship-wide announcement concerning Captain sh'Orthamu. Cerys abandoned all pretense of working. Right. So not a routine personnel shuffle, then.
Her attention shifted fully toward the unfamiliar Captain, curiosity rapidly overtaking everything else. Who are you? And, perhaps more importantly: What happened to the last one?
Raikon gave her a quick nod and "Ma'am" before sitting down again behind his console. He didn't care about the looks or eye rolls he elicited. He found sometimes discipline a bit lax in Starfleet but found it was always up to the captain to enforce or not.
A little show of respect to a newly arrived Captain is one of them...
Lea's hand went to the Starfleet delta pinned to the left side of her uniform, a faintly audible chirp sounding as it activated and connected to the ship-wide channel Commander Lektar had just opened.
"Attention, all officers and crew of the USS Vanguard, NCC-76381. I am Captain Lea Chevalier. Effective immediately, I am assuming command of this vessel by order of Admiral Calloway. I cannot speak to the specific details regarding the absence of Captain sh'Orthamu, only that she has been relieved of duty for a personal matter, at her request." Pausing a moment to let what she had just revealed sink in, Lea cast a wide gaze across the bridge to the various officers at their respective stations. "My expectations are that you will continue to serve this ship, your fellow crew, and the Federation with the same professionalism you showed during your brief time under her command. Thank you. Chevalier out."
With that, Lea tapped her commbadge once more to close the channel. Her gaze once more went to Griffith. "Commander, our orders state that we are to travel to the last known position of the USS Kepler, an Oberth-class vessel that has gone missing while en route to chart a nebula near the Bandari system. Please see to it that we are ready to be underway within the hour, and notify me accordingly. You have the bridge." A short nod later, Lea stepped past her XO and through the aft port-side door which led out into the access corridor, her intent to retreat to her new ready room so she might report to Admiral Calloway, and perhaps settle in just a bit.
Once the doors parted and Lea stepped into what was now her ready room, she let out a deep exhale and glanced about, feeling a sense of ease, excitement, and wonder at what lay ahead of her and her crew at the start of this journey together.
T'lol blinked as she processed what their new Captain had said, watching her head to the ready room, before T'lol gave herself a slight shake and returned her attentions on her console. A few more inputs and a mental note to contact Varissa at the end of her shift were made. Brushing a few strands of green hair from her eyes, she glanced up at Commander Griffith "Course laid in for the Bandari System, Commander, helm standing by." The Vulcan then returned to her console, adjusting attitude thrusters as needed.
Shirik closed the channel once the Captain finished her announcement. She was no stranger to last-minute reassignments so thought nothing of it. But she wondered what had happened to Capt. sh'Orthamu that she had to leave so suddenly, and that left her with an issue she would have to address soon. She would have to find the Security Chief after shift.
Greggory shook the captain's hand, the gentle but confident grip reassuring. At her gesture, he walked over to his chair, though he didn't actually sit, yet. Looking around the bridge crew, he couldn't help a small smile when he saw Iryna waiting by the turbolift, curiosity warring with her obvious fatigue.
As he listened to Captain Chevalier's address, he nodded along at the information he already knew, meeting the captain's eye with a firmer nod. "Orders received, Captain. I'll see to it." He waited until she had left the bridge, then turned to Shirik. "Commander Lektar, do one last check with the quartermaster, make sure all the supplies and personnel we're expecting have been transported up from planetside. Once that's complete, we'll set out. Commander Achaea, I believe you already said Engineering is ready for whatever we ask of the engines?"
After getting helm's report, he nodded. "Good to hear. Take us into a high orbit in preparation for departure until Ops gives the all-clear, then engage at Warp 7. Lieutenant Rowan, work with astrometrics to give us likely locations the Kepler may have drifted to, or any marginally hospitable planets between their last reported location and the Bandari system where they may have sought shelter. I want your report by the time we arrive," he finished, turning from the Science station to finally take his seat.
"Aye sir." Shirik started tapping at her console, asking for status reports from her crew and checking manifests herself. "Coordinates of the Kepler's last known location have been transmitted to us," she reported. "Sending them to Helm. The last of the cargo is being offloaded now. We should be ready shortly."
Seated comfortably at what was now her desk, Lea had already logged into the computer terminal with her credentials, and as the databases updated, she sipped at a tiny cup of espresso.
"Computer, shipboard time, please?" she inquired.
"The shipboard time is oh-eight-twenty-two," the computer answered.
With a succinct nod, she took another sip to finish the last of her much-needed caffeine boost, and after setting the cup back onto its saucer, she snatched the accompanying bit of chocolate biscotti and popped it into her mouth to munch on as she scrolled through the list of files that had so far been transferred. She worked quickly, highlighting those the Admiralty had forwarded with regard to their mission, and began sending them out to their respective department heads as additional briefing material. Simultaneously, she began making requests for status updates from each of them, wanting to ensure their departments were ready for whatever lay ahead.
When she resumed scrolling through the other information that had been forwarded, one file in particular — marked Captain's Eyes Only and sent by Admiral Hargrove at Starfleet Intelligence — elicited a sigh from her.
She'd read it once already, recalling the concerns voiced regarding a particular member of her new senior staff, but truth be told, Lea wasn't sure how much stock she could put in everything it warned of. Lea had dealt with Starfleet Intelligence at times during her career, especially during the Dominion War, and knew well how oversensitive and suspicious they could sometimes prove to be. Sure, there had been times when that suspicion was warranted, but she couldn't help but wonder if this was truly one of those times. In a way, the brief from the Admiral read as though it had been tinged with a heavy sense of xenophobia, and that troubled her immensely.
Regardless, she knew she would have to make her own assessments, and swore to herself that she would not let her sense of impartiality be tainted by what she'd read, no matter how potentially distressing some of it appeared to be.
The captain of a starship had to be fair in her judgments.
Raikon turned slightly in his seat and responded to Commander Griffith. "Yes Sir, she's ready to go on your command." Turning back to his console Raikon resumed his work. There wasn't much to prepare — the engineering team were ready to be underway.
T'lol nodded wordlessly, adjusting their position for departure. "Updating projected course," the Vulcan stated after a moment, her console pinging as it received the coordinates from Ops while Vanguard settled into her new, higher orbit smoothly. "Course plotted," T'lol said, glancing at Lt. Commander Lektar. "Standing by for Warp 7."
Cerys remained at the science station while the new Captain addressed the ship, doing her best impression of an officer who had absolutely not spent the previous several seconds wondering who the hell this woman was. Lea Chevalier. There. Mystery solved. One mystery, anyway.
Captain sh'Orthamu's absence was apparently due to a personal matter, and she had been relieved at her own request, which was an impressively efficient way of using several words to convey almost no information whatsoever. Cerys raised an eyebrow. Excellent. Glad we cleared that up.
Still, sh'Orthamu was apparently all right. And it made Cerys feel considerably less guilty about the small, undeniable sense of relief she'd experienced upon learning someone else was sitting in the command chair. Then Chevalier mentioned the USS Kepler. Missing. Cerys turned immediately back to her console. Oh.
An Oberth-class science vessel had stopped communicating en route to a nebula survey. This was, objectively, terrible. It was also the most interesting thing Cerys had heard in several days, which was an uncomfortable occupational hazard of being in Starfleet.
Commander Griffith began issuing orders. When he reached Science, Cerys turned toward him and nodded. "Aye, Commander. I'll have Science ready for departure and a preliminary assessment of the Kepler's last known position before we arrive."
She turned back to her console and pulled up the available astrometric data. The first thing she discovered was... Nothing. Cerys frowned. She widened the display. Still nothing. The Kepler had stopped communicating in an apparently empty region of space, roughly two light-years short of the nebula it had been traveling to study. No star. No planet. No conveniently enormous spatial phenomenon sitting at the coordinates with a little sign reading MYSTERY HERE. Well. That's inconsiderate.
She pulled the map farther out. The nearest stellar system was NXT-3002, the Bandari system, a G-class star with seven planets and two moons. It lay well away from the Kepler's last known position, and roughly seven light-years from the nebula itself. Cerys opened the system record. Then paused. The most recent sensor chart had been conducted by the USS Bangalore. Seventy-five years ago. She stared at the date. Oh, good. Archaeology.
Cerys began pulling up the Bangalore's original survey data anyway. Seventy-five years wasn't terribly long on an astronomical scale. On a Starfleet-charting scale, however, it was long enough for the universe to have developed several new and exciting ways of being unpredictable.
She returned to the Kepler's last known coordinates. Empty space. That bothered her. Not because empty space was unusual. Most of space was empty. It was arguably space's most defining characteristic. But starships generally did not stop communicating because they had encountered an especially aggressive patch of nothing.
Cerys brought up the Kepler's intended course and traced it toward the nebula, then across toward Bandari. Perhaps there was a connection. Perhaps there wasn't. At this distance, she had no justification for inventing one simply because it made the map more interesting. Very tempting, though.
That familiar spark of scientific excitement had already begun, and seeing the names cooled it immediately. She looked at the Kepler's crew manifest sitting quietly beside the telemetry. Names. Departments. Scientists who had probably been sitting at consoles much like hers when whatever happened had happened. The puzzle suddenly felt rather less abstract.
Cerys returned to the Kepler's final coordinates and began assembling her preliminary report. The curiosity was still there. Of course it was. She couldn't switch that part of herself off. But now it had somewhere useful to go. She stared at the little marker representing the Kepler's last known position.
All right. Where did you go?
Zaje met eyes with his new colleagues after the new captain's announcement. Whilst he hadn't had time to engage with Captain sh'Orthamu, he liked how she had conducted herself, albeit slightly unorthodox.
His ears pricked up further at the mention of the USS Kepler. It's never a good sign when a Starfleet vessel fails to report in on what should be a routine mission. There were too many variables to factor in to make an assumption about what had happened.
"Captain, if I may, I'd like to run some battle and defensive drills whilst en route. I would rather be prepared in case we encounter any less than friendly contacts."
Zaje quickly sent a message to his security teams to compile dossiers on the Kepler crew.
Once the cargo transfer was completed, Greggory straightened in his seat. "Alright, Helm. Take us out. Warp 7, engage."
"Captain Chevalier," he called over the comm, "we have left the Alpha Centauri system. We should arrive within 48 hours."
Turning to his tactical officer, he made eye contact. "I trust that will be enough time for some drills in the holodeck? Work with Engineering for a systems check. We'll have to push the live-fire drills until after this mission, assuming we don't end up doing a trial-under-fire. But I'll make sure that's in the schedule the next time we're not short on time."
"36 hours, Commander," Shirik said from her console. "We should arrive at approximately 2000 hours tomorrow."
Inside her ready room, Léa had just returned the empty espresso cup and saucer to the replicator housing for recycling when the stars beyond the viewport blue-shifted and began to streak past.
They had gone to warp.
"Captain Chevalier, we have left the Alpha Centauri system. We should arrive within forty-eight hours," came her XO's voice over the comm.
"Yes. Understood, Number One. Thank you." Léa replied after tapping the commbadge pinned beneath her left shoulder. She closed the channel with a similar gesture, then turned to take in the ready room once more, wondering how she might give the space more of her own personality. She recalled Captain Halladay explaining that a few mementos from one's past could make subordinates feel less threatened when reporting there—and, at the same time, make an irate admiral feel a little less intimidating. A two-fold defense, he had teased.
The memory of her former CO brought a smile as she exhaled softly.
Pleasant as the distraction was, Léa knew she had more pressing matters to attend to. Most notably, she still needed to name the Vanguard's Second Officer, a role that had gone unfilled under Captain sh'Orthamu. She had gone over her senior staff a number of times, and three names stood out as candidates for 2XO. First was Lieutenant Commander Achaea. He was experienced and seemed poised to make a jump to the command track, but Léa disliked the idea of depriving the Vanguard of her chief engineer so early in a mission. Second was Lieutenant Korn, another experienced candidate. His tactical expertise and service as security chief made him a natural leader, though he would need a promotion if selected.
Léa took her seat and activated the terminal on her desk, bringing up the dossier of the third candidate she had in mind: Lieutenant Commander Lektar. Like the others, she had experience, and as chief operations officer, naming her 2XO was a natural fit.
With a deep sigh, Léa shook her head, dismissing something still nagging at her.
Knowing she did not have all the answers—and recalling how often Captain Halladay had relied on her advice for difficult decisions—she decided to follow in his footsteps.
She tapped her commbadge. "Commander Griffith, please report to my ready room."
Zaje met Cmdr. Griffith's eye. "Of course sir, there will be ample time, thank you. I will work with engineering as you suggest. She'll be ready for a fight...should the need arise."
He didn't like leaving things unprepared. It's always been drilled into him to be ready for the unexpected and he'd made it his duty to try and cover all eventualities. "Not this time Zaje, not this time" he thought to himself.
Greggory sat in his chair as Alpha Centauri fell away behind them, looking over department reports and shipboard incident reports.
A short time later, he got a call from the captain. "On my way, Captain." Standing up, he quickly swept his eyes over the bridge crew. He tried, to varying degrees of success, not to linger on any particular face as he reviewed what he had read in personnel files.
"Commander Achaea, you have the Conn." After receiving acknowledgment, he headed towards the ready room.
Stopping just inside the door, he announced himself. "You wanted to see me, Captain?"
"Aye, Sir. I have the conn." Raikon replied leaving the engineering station and sitting down in the captain's chair.
He noted the change of command in the logs. He relaxed in the chair, there wasn't anything to do at the moment but keep the current heading and wait to arrive.
At the sound of the doors opening, Lea looked up from the reports she had been reading at her desk. "Yes. Please, have a seat." She motioned toward either of the chairs on the opposite side of the desk.
"Commander..." She paused a moment, leaning back in her chair, her eyes shifting to the viewport and the stars streaming by outside. "...I wanted to make something clear to you about my expectations for you as my Executive Officer." She knew better than to obfuscate the sort of guidance and advice she would want from her Number One, and she decided against mincing words with Griffith. She needed to be forthright about any concerns she had, and in turn trust him to act with the confidence she would expect of her right hand. Her own experience as an XO shaped her decision-making here.
"I have read your files. I have seen the mission reports from Captain sh'Orthamu. They were, of course, satisfactory - but I want to avoid the mistake of making assumptions." Her gaze returned to him. "You should know that I intend to count on you for your honest opinions, because I will in turn share my own, whether or not they ruffle feathers. If we are going to be successful in this mission, and in any future missions, then we must ensure that the command relationship between captain and executive officer is one of trust, and a willingness to embrace that honesty. I am not looking for a yes-man when decisions need to be made. I will want your input."
After a short pause, she allowed her expression to lighten slightly. "Of course, I am not asking you to be obstinate either. There is a balance a Number One has to find in the role, and I am sure you will find it."
"But for the time being, can I count on your due diligence with regard to the honesty I am seeking from you?"
At the captain's address, he walked across the room to stand across the desk. Stoically, he listened to her concerns. "I understand the difference between time for debate and time for unification, Sir. In the spirit of honesty, permission to speak freely?"
"I have always heard that a captain's first obligation is to the mission and a first officer's obligation is to the ship and crew. I intend to offer advice and question your orders on that principle. Once your orders are final, however, I will carry them out to the best of my abilities, in the best method available to me. If there's a way through a tough situation, we'll find it together."
"When we're in this room, you're always free to speak, Commander." Léa answered, giving her full attention to her new Number One, her crystal-blue eyes intent on his mannerisms as he began.
He could—and would—speak his mind, she realized immediately.
Good, she thought.
A moment later, when he had finished his carefully measured declaration, in which Léa found more than a little common ground, she offered him a modest smile of affirmation. "I'm glad to hear it, Commander. And indeed, if you can abide such an arrangement—as you have outlined, and as I have put forth—then I don't see why we wouldn't find success together." She laced her fingers together, set her hands atop her desk, and leaned forward a little, seemingly pleased by this early exchange with the man she would have to rely on more closely than anyone else in the weeks and months ahead, however long her assignment to the Vanguard lasted.
"Now, I understand Captain sh'Orthamu had not yet named her second officer, and I would be remiss if I allowed our ship to enter circumstances that might threaten the chain of command without completing that task. We do not know what awaits us in our search for the missing Kepler." For a moment she glanced right again, at the stars streaming past the ready-room viewport. "And as I am to rely on you as my first, you—should something happen to me—would have to rely on someone else among our senior staff to act as yours. Which is why I would like your input in naming them."
She leaned back a little, her hands parting as she reached for a particular PADD among several on her desk. "There are three names that immediately stand out to me as suitable candidates: Commander Achaea, Commander Lektar, and lastly Lieutenant Korn."
She set the PADD at the front of her desk for Griffith to review. "All three have potential, but each comes with drawbacks. Commander Achaea is our chief engineer, and may already have his hands full. Lieutenant Korn would need to be promoted if we named him, though that is a minor issue. And Commander Lektar..." Her voice trailed off for a moment as her thoughts returned to the warnings she had read in the private communiqué from Admiral Hargrove at Starfleet Intelligence. "...as chief of operations, naming her second officer is a natural thought, though I'm not sure how familiar you are with her history. Suffice it to say, some concerns have been raised."
Léa leaned back once more, crossing one thigh over the other as her hands came to rest in her lap. "Can I assume Captain sh'Orthamu approached you with this dilemma before her resignation, and have you had time to consider these options?"
She tilted her head slightly, inviting a response.
Raikon sat quietly in the Captain's chair, looking over the latest engineering reports on his PADD. He was glad to see that the months of work refitting her had paid off and that everything was operating within parameters. The last hour had been quite uneventful.
In the meantime, someone from the engineering team had replaced him at his station monitoring Engineering.
After a few moments, he rested the PADD on his lap and looked to his left toward the operations station. He felt it was time to have the various stations report in.
"Commander Lektar, anything to report?"
"One bioneural gelpack has gone offline on Deck 6, but the new automatic systems rerouted as expected," Shirik reported to Achaea. "The affected pack is being replaced now. I'll begin analysis on why it malfunctioned once it's available. Other than that, all systems seem to be functioning normally."
As the conversation moved to a more lengthy topic, Greggory took the seat in front of the captain's desk. "Fortunately, Captain sh'Orthamu had already requested such a discussion before her untimely departure." Pulling out his own PADD from a pocket along his thigh, he called up his prepared report, syncing it with Lea's PADD.
"Raikon Achaea certainly has the experience to be the 2XO, but I know personally how busy being Chief Engineer can be. He's a fine bridge officer and can handle the CONN, but in an emergency, I wouldn't want to take his focus away from coordinating engineering teams. Korn Zaje has a similar problem, although his command experience seems rather recent."
Greggory shifted in his seat as he read the final report on the captain's PADD. Finally, he pushed it back towards Lea and looked at her confidently. "Honestly, no one knows this ship as well as Commander Achaea and myself EXCEPT Shirik Lektar, probably better if you include personnel alongside technical systems. She's just as capable of coordinating departments as she is balancing systems, so adding the duties of XO wouldn't distract her from her position at Ops. She IS a bit abrasive, but she stays calm under pressure and is capable of making the hard decisions.
"I'm aware of her history, both before joining Starfleet and the disciplinary actions in her record. We worked together for a while aboard the Constellation and I can attest that, while she might react strongly to personal threats, she doesn't use violence without provocation. I've never even seen her draw her Kemla unless training or fighting off a boarding action."
He offered a bit of a smile to Lea. "She's a strong-willed, no-nonsense officer who isn't afraid to speak her mind, just like what you asked of me. There's no one on this ship I'd rather have backing me up as my XO."
As her Number One finally took the offered seat, Léa leaned back in order to give him the attention his diligence seemed to demand. She listened closely to his summary of each of the three candidates she had mentioned, his analysis apparently in line with her own as he read from a report that had been prepared for her predecessor.
It was safe to say that Léa was already feeling comfortable with her new XO.
Naturally, when he reached the last of the three, one eyebrow lifted slightly higher than the other as she found herself relieved to hear some positive feedback that could counterbalance the more cautionary warnings. When he finished, Léa allowed an approving smile to tug once more at the corners of her lips. "It sounds to me, then, that you have a preference in mind—and, generally speaking, it is in alignment with my own. I have no doubt that Commander Achaea and Lieutenant Korn could prove themselves capable second officers, but given the circumstances, it would seem that Commander Lektar is the favored choice."
She paused a moment, letting a beat of silence settle before her crystal-blue eyes shifted toward the viewport, then back to Griffith. "I will take some time to consider all factors, after which I will make my decision. Soon. Thank you for your input, Number One. That will be all."
Léa leaned back, her smile genuinely appreciative as she looked at him.
Greggory sat in silence as Lea quickly processed his report. When she began to talk about their analysis being in general agreement, he caught the use of "could prove themselves." Probably not the kind of split responsibilities that could be trusted with the ship.
"As an addendum, I would recommend Achaea and Korn for Away Missions, would give them more experience taking the command lead and getting crew from different departments to work together.
"I am grateful you put such trust in my opinions, Captain. She is indeed, my favorite choice," he said with a straight face but a slight twinkle. "I'll help get any other information you require." Pushing himself up from the chair, he turned toward the door that would release him onto the bridge, but stopped just outside of its trigger range. "Captain, please don't share this brief when she talks to you. Thank you for your understanding. If there's ever anything you want to share, you know (or the ship) where to find me. Maybe we can decompress over a meal."
As the door opened, he stopped again. "I'll let you know when we arrive, or whenever something decides to interpose themselves in our narrow stretch of vastness." With that, he returned to his place on the bridge, settling in for a long flight.