Stardate 58806.27-58807.10
"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.
"Back in the Saddle"
Crewman Andrea Guilder - Nurse
Capt. Varissa sh'Orthamu - Commanding Officer
Lt. Tyzur - Chief Medical Officer
Location: Deck 2, Sickbay
Stardate: 58807.08, 19h07
***
Guilder beamed aboard with a throng of other crewmen, a swath of faces standing before the Head Nurse. Hands passed PADDs, and each was given their duty rosters. Day shift. Supplementary Intake Exams. There are always a couple of officers who slip through, either because their transfer overlaps with their examination, or because they conveniently forgot.
It was strange being aboard a Starfleet vessel again as a crewman rather than a passenger. Not too long ago, she was the one who had a tricorder, here, there, everywhere, while a ship's counselor nodded along to her accounting and a security officer showed her ships that she could not say were the ones that downed the Vivaldi. As she waved the tricorder over the officer, the results blinked onto its display. Nominal. The next. Nominal. And the next.
During a lull in the cavalcade of officers getting their pre-launch checkups, a certain Andorian slipped in for her own medical clearance after a particularly intense workout in the ship's gym. Varissa was still in a simple combination of Starfleet sports bra and workout shorts with a Federation-standard grey towel draped over her shoulders as she glanced around the sickbay. She had hoped to run into the CMO on her visit, but wasn't terribly certain she'd be able to pick him out of a crowd as of yet -- human males were fairly difficult for the Andorian to tell apart, embarrassingly. While her face didn't give any indication of urgency, her antennae told another story, bobbing in different directions to get a lay of the land.
The torrent of Officers eventually slowed to a meandering stream, then dried up. She was halfway through an internal communique with an Ensign regarding a pet tribble. "While your assurances that Fluffy has been both spayed and neutered is reassuring," she spoke as she typed, "this must be verified by medical staff. Please deliver Fluffy to Sick Bay to complete this at your earliest convenience." She hit send and noticed the Captain. She stood, straightened her uniform, and unwrinkled her pipless collar.
"Captain, pleasure to meet you. I am Nurse Guilder. I am happy to report that Intake Exams are expected to be completed on schedule. I'm afraid Dr. Tyzur has stepped out for a bit if you wanted to talk to him. Or is there anything else I can help you with?"
"Nurse Guilder, a pleasure." She hummed nodding along to Andrea's words. "Well, I suspect you'll be able to take care of the official business, though I was hoping to speak to our resident doctor... but that appears to need to wait until a later date. I'm here for my intake exam... and before you say it, I'm already aware of the mess in my left shoulder blade. That was actually what I wanted to discuss with Doc Tyzur. Well... that and to introduce myself."
"I can message him to let him know you're here; maybe that might speed things along. In the meantime, I can perform the exam." She said, indicating a nearby biobed. "Please, take a seat."
Rissa made her way to the nearest empty biobed and sat down, her antennae probing at every beep and bong from the various medical equipment in the sickbay. She was never one for lingering in medical facilities... too many bad memories tied up with people dying under scanning arrays.
"That sounds like an excellent idea, crewman! I'll, em... I'll let you take care of that. Did I need to change into a gown or anything for the checkup? I apologise for my casual attire, but I find the best thing to soothe an anxious mind is a stiff workout. That gym we have on board is going to be my favorite room on the ship. Have you had a chance to use it?"
(Crewmen have the lowest priority for recreational facilities,) she thought. "Ah, no, not yet." She waved the tricorder by her head, narrowly missing an antenna. "As for stripping down, that won't be necessary." (It hasn't been necessary since the 22nd century, not since the advent of the TR-100.) "I can get all I need from here." She said, holding the sensor up.
She had soon circled behind the Captain by this point, scanning as she walked, the display revealing all: an elevated level of lactic acid, a bit higher than the Human baseline for that level of exercise, but that was normal for Andorians. An elevated heart rate, no doubt related to the aforementioned anxiety, as to whether it came from outside of the Sick Bay or was a sign of Whitecoat Syndrome, who was to say? She wasn't the ship's counselor, or it could have come from the shoulder which the tricorder reported as...
...Torn. And healed poorly. And torn again. And healed again... poorly...
Presently, it was edging another tear... truth be told, it was likely one of the worst rotator cuff tears she'd ever seen. Most people with this much scar tissue would be hobbled in pain; what was Captain sh'Orthamu made of!?!
"Ah... you'll have to forgive me. I... don't tend to frequent the medbays. Or... get checkups. I... have a lot of painful memories wrapped up in these bright, sanitized facilities... heh..."
Varissa's antennae drooped as she went on. Heavy stuff, indeed.
"Er... but as a Captain, now, I have to set the bar for the crew, and I want everyone on my ship to be in tip-top shape! So... em... how bad is it?"
(Most people would be howling in pain at this point.) With the amount of damage done thus far, Guilder would suggest surgery. Put Captain Orthamu under general anesthetic, or local, though based on what was required, it'd be best to put her out. Pop that shoulder out, debride the material: scar tissue and what could not regenerate, and if needed, perform an acromioplasty. Next would come the regeneration of the muscle and tendon, but given the ample supply of biomimetic gel, there would be little concern for that. Then attach bio-mimetic anchors as a guide for cloned muscle; the technique was known colloquially as muscle stitching in some medical forums. The preparations for the surgery could be done in two hours; the surgery could be done in less than one. Unfortunately, as a Nurse, Guilder was unauthorized to perform such procedures. And given Orthamu's admitted history of using exercise as an emotional pressure valve, either Tyzur would have to perform the procedure, or she'd eventually tear it completely, condemning herself to the kind of months-long recovery medicine had largely eliminated centuries ago.
The former was preferable.
"I'm making the recommendation that you see Tyzur at your earliest convenience. It's close enough where I'd..." (No, you can't say that; you can't make suggestions, can't make formal diagnosis, you can't even give people analgesics unless you're given the go-ahead, you're not marooned.) "I'm going to run this up the ladder so this can be treated ASAP. In the meantime, I'm going to make the recommendation of a change, not a cessation, of exercise. Have you tried low-impact exercises? Swimming." She asked seemingly nonchalantly as she typed away on her PADD.
"That bad, eh?" She mumbled with a sigh, antennae now drooped down almost flat against her forehead. "I suspected, but... well... at least my instincts were right about having a visit with the Doc. Er... anything besides the shoulder blade holding me back?"
Varissa gave a halfhearted giggle, that last comment meant to be a half-hearted attempt at humor before shaking her head at the nurse's question about low-impact exercise.
"No... can't say I've ever tried it. I typically do a weightlifting regime, hardcore cardio, mountain climbing, contact sports, martial arts... weapons training..."
(I can't do what she needs, I can only kick this up the ladder.) "This shoulder shows extensive scar tissue. To a point where one could," she pauses, "could call it neglect, or abuse in other cases." She lets the accusation hang unanswered. "Of course," she says all too quickly, "perhaps we're all too busy in what is in front of us to care for what is behind us." (Is there a genetic precedent for this in the Andorian genome? Akin to the Scandinavian genome? Further research might be required.)
"I'm unauthorized to do what I... some would see as the necessary treatment; I am forwarding your readings to Dr. Tyzur presently."
"Oh... abuse. Deeeeefinitely abuse." She laughed, rolling her bad shoulder. She had to be in such pain! "I tore it initially back on Stardate 49366. Gosh... almost fifteen years! And, em... well, I just fought through it. Through the Dominion War... through rebuilding efforts... just managed to slip through the cracks and never address it on the Halifax, my previous vessel. Might've bribed a couple of the nurses to push me to the back of the checkup list once or twice. Guess it's time to pay the piper, though! Let Doc Tyzur know I'm at his mercy before we set off, would you?"
She got up from the medical bed and winced at that lingering pain.
"I'll... attempt to avoid those pesky workouts until he gets me tied down for whatever he needs to do. Thanks, Nurse Guilder. I appreciate you being frank with me."
Tyzur was having a coffee in the mess hall as he got a message from Nurse Guilder. He hadn't been sleeping well and needed some caffeine to get through the rest of the intake exams. The message contained scans of the captain's shoulder along with Guilder's tentative diagnosis. It needed medical attention fairly urgently, he thought, better rush back to sickbay and let the captain know. He turned a few corners and entered sickbay, spotting the pair near one of the biobeds. He approached and greeted the captain.
"Captain sh'Orthamu, a pleasure to meet you. I'm Doctor Tyzur. Nurse Guilder has informed me of your medical situation."
He turned towards Guilder.
"I'm impressed by your assessment, you were spot on."
He addressed the captain again.
"Captain, I'm afraid your shoulder is in bad shape. It needs surgery as soon as possible to avoid long-term complications. You must be in quite a bit of pain. Nurse Guilder, please prepare an analgesic hypospray."
A fresh wave of dread washed over the Captain as she sat back down on the med bed with a 'thump'. Clearly there was medical drama behind the forced smile and those antennae, now shot straight up with fresh fear.
"Ah... hey Doc. Nice to meet you officially. Guess I'll be going under the knife while we make our introductions... heh..."
She squirmed a bit as he asked about the pain and informed her about the surgery. This was a long time coming, but she'd put it off for so long she didn't remember a time she wasn't coping with the daily pain!
"Er... truth be told, I kinda just tuned the pain out. There are worse things than physical agony and I s'pose I was... ya know... putting this off to deal with that. I guess this means I'll be able to return to my regular exercise activities... sooner?"
The Andorian's reaction was all too familiar. The friendly smile Tyzur had been practicing in the mirror faded as he remembered how often he'd seen a fear response like that.
"Apologies for being so brash. My previous posting frequently required quick action. The plan is to regenerate your muscle and tendon during the surgery. In fact, exercise is prescribed as part of the recovery process in order to train the new muscle. The pain will be gone in a couple of days. Your muscles will be back to their nominal strength in a matter of weeks, and you'll be able to resume your regular exercise activities. I'm afraid if your shoulder goes untreated, things will get worse and your recovery may take months or even years."
Tyzur paused for a second and remembered his training. Now that the patient has been informed it's time to reassure her.
"It's a fairly standard type of surgery, and I've performed it thousands of times before. The surgery, including preparation takes about three hours and you'd be able to return to your quarters the same day. You'll be ready to take the Vanguard on her maiden voyage: new ship, new shoulder."
He lifted his cybernetic arm.
"We'd be able to arm wrestle in no time!"
Tyzur tried to use humour to lighten the mood but instantly regretted the attempt.
"Anyway, would you be willing to proceed with the surgery after your duty shift ends? That would give us time to wrap up the intake exams and prepare."
Before making her egress, Guilder handed a PADD with the Captain's results. The look in her eye could say a thousand things to a seasoned doctor. All of them saying, Good luck; it's bad.