To say that the recent changes to the ship had taken some adjustment for all involved was probably a bit of an understatement. Many had found it difficult to see friends and colleagues replaced, whilst others found it hard to be pulled from their home at short notice and told to pitch up someplace else. No one had found that harder than the new mistress of the Temeraire. Everyone else on the crew was in one camp or the other, even the XO (ESPECIALLY the XO), but she didn’t have that luxury. As the one tasked with uniting the two crews and forming a functional starship again, she had to find a way to bring them together and turn them into her own collective, a group willing to fight and die for each other. At present, it was more likely they would fight and kill each other, but she had a cunning plan up her sleeve (or so she hoped). She had once been told by a colleague that social events had a habit of bringing the best, or the worst out of people. With that in mind, she had organised a little get together for anyone able to attend. Anyone who chose to attend. 

Standing on the upper level of the Wayward Traveller lounge, Tharia surveyed the scene below her in delight. All of the planning and preparation had come together beautifully, culminating in the transformation of the Wayward Traveller over the course of just a few hours. It was perfect. The floor beneath her seemed to move, a mist covering the grey carpet up to waist height. Just to ensure they did not send too many hapless souls in the direction of sickbay, the lowered section of the room had been temporarily filled in to give them maximum floor space which allowed the room to set up tiered rows of seats for the occasion. She hoped nobody would be throwing the popcorn, as seemed to be tradition from what she had learned…

The light was at a bare minimum, the strip lighting green rather than blue while dotted around the room were various props from the movie the crew was about to watch, little green spotlights illuminating them in the gloom.

Despite the darkness, Tharia was unmissable. She had opted to wear a burnt orange shimmer dress, an outfit from the movie while the staff tending to the bar and keeping everyone fed tonight were wearing the one piece jumpsuits of the main characters. She had no idea if anyone else would care to dress up or not, it had been optional on the invite. But she supposed that would be a moot point if no one showed up at all.

All that mattered, she reminded herself, was that this was a night for the crew to relax and have fun and, hopefully, get past some of the simmering animosity. Either that, or things would come to a head and the situation would be a disaster. She was determined that it would be resolved one way or another this very evening.

Behind her, a temporary bar had been put in place since the wall space behind the serving area presently housed an old fashioned still projector. With her brow furrowed in concentration, Prida was applying the finishing touches to the drinks she had poured in anticipation of the crew’s arrival. One half green, the other orange, both with only the slightest kick. It was movie night after all.

Satisfied, the Bajoran-Cardassian engineer stepped back to admire her work. Drinks, a selection of finger foods at a nearby buffet table and finally the best part. Popcorn! Before tonight she had never had popcorn before, and now she found herself stealing some as she filled stripped bags to the brim and set them inside a heater. Apparently it was better if the popcorn was warm. She had no idea why melted butter was needed, but who was she to judge.

“Ready!” she announced, rubbing her hands together with glee as she made eye contact with the captain.

“Perfect,” Tharia nodded, “right on time. Now we just need people.”

Never one to disappoint his captain, Lieutenant Udal was first to arrive. Dressed in all black, including a flowing black cape, with his hair styled in a wild, spiky fashion, and wearing glow in the dark green contacts, the burly Orion had gone all out for the event. Approaching the captain, he smiled, flashing a set of metallic fangs capped over his regular canines. “While I don’t understand the meaning of such an event, I am happy to be out of my uniform for a few hours,” he said, only the slightest hint of a lisp accompanying his words.

“I love it!” Tharia cried in delight as he came up the stairs. She took his arm and guided him towards the bar.

Prida grinned at her deputy and waved him over to the bar. “Come on, you need to try the ectoplasm… Green or orange? Having tried them, I’d actually try mixing them, it is a lovely sweet and sour mix.”

“Who am I to argue with you ladies?” Udal replied, with a lopsided grin.

Before long, crewmembers from across the ship began to appear, and Lieutenant Mora entered the lounge, surprised to see the level of detail gone into the setup. He nodded to the captain as he approached, “Looks like you pulled out all the stops.”

“I figured we should make the most of it,” Tharia grinned as the Lieutenant reached the upper level. “Movie starts in twenty minutes so help yourself to drinks, food, and we have popcorn. Oh, do you know my friend here?” At that she gestured towards Udal with a devilish grin.

Udal held out his hand and grinned hungrily. “Udal, at your service!” he said, quite melodramatically and with the best transylvanian accent he could muster.

At first, Linn simply stood, staring at the engineer before bursting into a fit of laughter with his colleague and the two moved off together to find some seats. Exchanging knowing glances with Prida, the captain felt a little warmer deep down. So far, so good.

Lieutenant Noli, the ship’s resident Bajoran, had been going back and forth all day over the decision to join the staff for movie night. As a bit of an introvert, the young woman usually tried to avoid large gatherings, but the promise of some 20th century entertainment and something called ‘popcorn’ had drawn her to the Wayward Traveller to spend the evening with her colleagues. Entering the mess facility, the Bajoran was taken aback by the arrangements. The place looked amazing.

New to the crew as one of just three new transfers in, Henry Mitchell walked through the double doors that lead into the lounge. He was wearing an all black suit and tie with a white shirt. It was what the computer had recommended for him as period appropriate for a 20th century “fancy” party. He liked how it looked, but was not a fan of how tight the cloth was around his neck. While he should have probably been on the bridge getting accustomed to his new posting, he felt it necessary to show his face and mingle in with his new crewmates. Especially the hot blonde he had shared the turbolift with. Judging by her eye colour, the woman was a Risian.

Lieutenant Akaria Okan was the Risian he had his eye on, but she seemed oblivious to his interest as she nodded in acknowledgement to the captain.

Assistant Operations officer Ensign Valesa had tried to catch up with the charming looking Lieutenant before he entered the room, but unable the catch him, she slowed from her brief jog and walked through the doors of the Wayward Traveller. She paused in utter amazement of the transformation. A soft white mist hovered over the floor and the bar had been converted into a makeshift concession stand. “Oh WOW!,” she exclaimed, not caring if anyone heard.

Chortling rather dramatically with one hand on her chest and the other on her abdomen, the Denobulan was flabbergasted at the array of characters present for the film. She herself, in less fanfare, wore a replicated black short-sleeve t-shirt with an image of the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man wearing 80’s era sunglasses. White letters written on red tape captioned, “I’ll Stop the World and Melt with You.” She thought it fitting considering this night was about melting into leisure and making new friends.

Composing herself, she followed Lieutenant Mitchell to the concession stand. “Someone really pulled out all the stops tonight,” she stated, meeting his gaze at last while waiting on popcorn and a drink.

“Indeed,” he said, noticing her at last. “Last time I ask the computer for fashion advice,” the newcomer laughed. “Popcorn?” he asked, offering her the first bucket that came up.

“Yes please!” Valesa replied with enthusiasm. She took the bucket of popcorn. “I don’t know… I think you look rather dapper,” she jokingly eyed his outfit from head to toe, “It totally…suits…you.” She intentionally drew attention to the mediocre pun.

Henry laughed out loud and shook his head. “That was bad, but I like it. I’ll buy you a drink for that one,” he said trying to stop his chuckling to no avail. Offering a hand, the two introduced themselves more formally and went in search of their own seats.

Doctor Zinn entered to find a decent crowd already gathered. He was able to make out Mora, and moved through the crowd, greeting people with a silent nod and tightlipped smile as he went. Reaching the operations chief, he found him chatting to Lieutenant Udal dressed…as a vampire. He ignored Udal for a moment and addressed Mora, “Hey.”

Zinn then studied the younger Orion for a moment, looking him up and down in silence. Finally, he cracked a smile. “Looking good, Udal.” He slapped the junior Lieutenant on the arm as he walked past, looking for somewhere to sit. “So, where do you think the best seats are?”

Deep into conversation, the unlikely participants in something akin to a very lame joke (you know the one, ‘A Bolian, a Deltan and an Orion walked into a messhall…’), made their way towards the seating area at the back of the room, and were immediately identified as something of a troublesome trio by the Captain.

Entering from one of the doors on the lower level of the mess facility, and much to the amusement of the amassed crowd, a figure covered in a white bed sheet with two holes for eyes shuffled towards the stairs and began to ascend them to the food area. “WoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo!” the figure whistled as it waved its arms in the direction of a small gathering of officers. In normal circumstances, the sheet would have been quite a disguise, but with a bushy beard sticking out from beneath the sheet, it was pretty clear who was under the ghost-like ensemble.

“You made it!” Tharia grinned as she came down the stairs to meet her executive officer, relieved that he had finally relented and agreed to meet her there. She had been certain that in the cosmic order of things, something would have kept the Tellarite away. She was about to say something else when an automated announcement declared the movie would begin in five minutes.

“Time to grab drinks, some popcorn and find a seat everyone!” the Andorian called out before lowering her voice as she turned back to Commander Gor. “You have a front row seat. Popcorn and drinks are on the upper level. I have a few more things to take care of but make yourself comfortable.”

“WoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo!” was all that came from the ‘ghost’ as it began to glide towards the refreshments before making its way towards the reserved seat on the front row.

Precisely on schedule, the lights dimmed as everyone took their seats. From her seat, Tharia uttered a silent prayer that all would work as planned, breathing a sigh of relief when the audio and visual elements started seamlessly. A few stragglers were guided to free seats by Prida and her trusty torch before she, too, retreated out of sight. Settling into her chair, she grabbed a handful of popcorn and watched the story unfold.

It was enjoyable, especially if you didn’t try to analyse it in any way. Pure entertainment trying to wrap itself in science. She was watching a giant marshmallow man (what else?) destroying a city called New York when the she first saw it. Popcorn. From the corner of her eye she saw the piece on the downward trajectory, aiming directly for the ‘ghost’. Her eyes widened for a moment before she breathed a sigh of relief as it fell just a few centimetres short and fell harmlessly to the floor.

Suspicion made her glance at Udal. Or was it Mora? Maybe it was Zinn? It couldn’t have been Noli on the row in front of them, could it? It certainly wasn’t Henry or the Denobulan from Ops,. for they were too busy engaging in small talk and hushed whispers. The likely culprits were all suspiciously shovelling copious amounts of popcorn into their mouths. The same popcorn they had each been weighing up seconds before in preparation for an attempt, only to be beaten from elsewhere. Udal flashed his best boyish, innocent smile – but the good Andorian captain was not fooled for a second. Then again, it seemed like it came from rows further back…

As the end credits rolled, the lighting began to return to a more normal level as Prida appeared on the stairs. “We have some refreshments including a buffet on the upper level if anyone would care to stay a little longer,” the young woman announced before hurrying back up to get her own stash before the crowd descended upon the tables. She had thoroughly enjoyed the movie, especially when the giant walking mallow had exploded all over the place. Oh, how fun it would be to have been in such a mess, the clean freak sighed wistfully.

Whilst the crew began to file out, many took a moment to stop and chat with the captain about the success of the evening, and how they had wished they had done something similar. Mayur Bellurr from tactical even expressed how she was glad to no longer have to sit through performances by the ship’s orchestra and could take part in real entertainment instead. High praise from the Terran/Klingon hybrid.

“Thanks for coming, have a great night,” Tharia called after them as Udal handed her another drink with a pleading look. She sighed, “okay, you can have the room for the rest of the night but you help me clean this place up tomorrow. Deal?”

It appeared so, as he hurried off to prepare another film. She was going to regret this in the morning, she was sure, but if it helped them bond, who cared. They were in dock, nothing eventful going on, everything at peace.

“Excellent work,” a gruff voice called from the back of the gathering alongside some clapping, drawing the attention of several officers, including the captain. Some confusion followed as they realised that the voice belonged to their first officer. But if he was at the back, who was on the front row?

“Vasoch?” Tharia frowned, looking to the ghostly figure still seated in the front row and back at her executive, clearly surprised and a little confused. “But you…”

“TADA!” the ghostly apparition called out as the figure threw off their sheet to reveal junior Lieutenant Edouard Calvet from the psychology team, complete with false beard, who was laughing at the same time as Commander Gor stepped forward clapping and laughing himself.

“You think I wouldn’t hear the rumours about popcorn throwing?” he grinned a toothy grin as she stopped beside his cohort and put his arm around him. “Lieutenant Calvet kindly offered to take my place if I arranged for him to have one of his early morning shifts off,” he grinned. “And they say I have no sense of humour…”

“Well played,” Tharia acknowledged with a smile. “And glad you could join us, Lieutenant. I’m really sorry about this, though…”

She saw the look of confusion on the stellar cartographer’s face. Just as Tharia took a step back, from the upper level, a veritable mountain of popcorn was tipped over the pair. She grinned up at Udal and Mora who gave a thumbs up before disappearing so that their involvement could be noted. “Always have a backup plan,” Tharia grinned as she picked a piece of popcorn out of Gor’s beard hair and held it out in her open palm. “Popcorn?”

“Well played, Captain,” Gor nodded slowly as he brushed off his uniform and gave the CO the respect she deserved, before looking up at the balcony, “now I suggest you lot get this cleaned up, or this will be the first, and last, movie night!” he bellowed before turning on his heels and departing from the mess facility.

Prida had a tremendous grin on her face. She had been aloof, watching various officers engaging with one another. She finished off the first round plate, and approached to gather a few more of the favorites before calling it a night. “Can I help you pack things up, Captain? I definitely want to make sure we have another one of these.”

“Thanks, the boys have got it covered,” Tharia assured her, “but you are more than welcome to join me at the bar, to celebrate such a resounding success?”

Prida nodded, finishing the last morsels of food from her plate. “I’ll take you up on that Captain.”

Just as the pair were about to head off to the bar, the ships communications array chirped to life and stopped them in their tracks. “Bridge to Captain sh’Elas,” the voice called out.

Tapping her commbadge while she exchanged glances with Prida, the captain acknowledged the message. “sh’Elas here, go ahead,” she spoke, arms folded across her chest.

“We’re receiving a transmission, ma’am. Two visitors are requesting permission to board,” the voice informed her.

Sighing, the captain gave her friend a signal for a rain check before heading towards the mess facility exit. “I’ll be right there…”

The day was nearly over and it had been more eventful than the Captain had anticipated when she had first woken up. She had intended it to be a quiet one by her standards, with little for her to do but continue to trawl through reports and personnel files after the mad few days of changes. Instead, she had given her crew a night of frivolity in the Wayward Traveller with movie night, but that had been spoiled by the announcement that two officers were to arrive shortly, and rumour had it they were bringing grave news.

Nervously pacing the ready room, the captain had been joined by her XO, sat on the sofa and watching the captain with great interest. This was the first time Vasoch had really had the opportunity to see the woman in true ‘command’ mode, and it was clear she was nervous.

“Whatever or whoever walks through that door, we’ll deal with it together,” he spoke in his gruff tone, running a hand through his beard as he looked over at her. They certainly had their differences, and he didn’t particularly like her, but he had agreed to stay and support her (at least through this period of transition), and he stuck to his word. He would give her his all for as long as he held the position of executive officer.

Stopping behind her desk chair, she folded her arms across her chest and aimed a smile of appreciation in the Tellarite’s direction. A sign of a mutual thawing of tensions, perhaps?

Soon enough, the doors to the office parted and granted entrance to a security officer, a dark-skinned Commodore, and a familiar face. She stepped up to the desk and offered a hand to the Commodore as she nodded to the security officer for him to wait outside.

“Commodore Ekwueme,” she welcomed him with a polite nod and a firm handshake, “welcome to the Temeraire, sir.”

“Captain sh’Elas, a pleasure,” Ekwueme responded in his thick Nigerian accent before releasing his subordinates hand and gesturing to the Vulcan beside him. “Captain, may I introduce you to one of my Strategic Operations officers, Lieutenant Commander T’Prynn,” the African man revealed.

T’Prynn gave the woman a measured look, one of the more annoying traits her race possessed, as if sizing up and seeing if she measured up to standards that her new rank brought with it. After a few moments, she had apparently seen enough. Reaching out a hand the tall, slender Vulcan spoke, looking the Andorian directly in the eye, “It is agreeable to see you again, Captain.”

“A pleasure, Commander,” Tharia nodded, taking the hand and shaking it, before elaborating for the two confused gentlemen in the room. “Commander T’Prynn served briefly aboard the Santa Fe under Captain Farrell,” the Andorian smiled, then gestured to the Tellarite rising to his feet. “Commodore, Commander. This is my executive officer, Commander Vasoch Gor,” introducing the man who joined them at the desk, she completed the round of welcomes and gestured for the officers to take a seat.

“Commander. I’ve heard good things about you from Captain Ruas,” Ekwueme smiled as he nodded respectfully to the older Tellarite, “And given the developing situation, I am certain that Captain sh’Elas will be appreciative of having an experienced hand at her side.”

“I live to serve,” Vasoch gave the Commodore a single nod of acknowledgement and thanks for his words, then took his own seat opposite the Captain.

“Speaking of which,” Tharia spoke as she took her own seat at the table, “what exactly is this situation that is developing?”

Commodore Ekwueme let out a sigh and shook his head, “Nothing short of a military coup on Rator. Our intelligence agents were slow in getting the information out, but as of five days ago, the Romulan Star Empire, or what’s left of it, is in a state of civil war,” he briefed the officers solemnly.

That certainly piqued the curiosity of the Temeraire faithful as they each sat forward in their chairs and exchanged brief glances. The last time Romulan space dissolved into such chaos was following the supernova of ‘87.

Now T’Prynn spoke up, at the non-verbal behest of the Commodore. “Many on Rator have fled. Some have fled into the area of space controlled by the Romulan Free State, others have fled to the growing Romulan Republic. The greatest concern we share is for that of the newly independent worlds,” the Vulcan passed a data PADD across the table to the captain. “Several dozen worlds bordering neither the Free State nor the Republic have declared their independence and are now on a precipice as they search for the means to lead to self-sufficiency.”

Tharia and her Tellarite executive listened in a state of shock, the captain only taking possession of the data PADD once the Vulcan seemed to have stopped talking.

“We’re going to give them those means,” Commodore Ekwueme smiled, passing the briefing over to T’Prynn again.

“The Romulan regional governor on Psi Velorum III was removed by their Reman workforce. A former mine worker known as Resak has been installed as acting-governor, and invited the entirety of the Velorum Sector to join in declaring independence from the Star Empire. Their now exists a new state apparently keen on respecting the rights and labour of Remans, Romulans, and other inhabitants alike,” she told.

“This is unbelievable,” Tharia muttered, clearly in a state of shock as she shook her head in an attempt to rid herself of the dark cloud that was gathering in her mind.

“It gets better,” Ekwueme responded, sitting forward and placing a hand on the captain’s desk. “This move presents us with a political minefield. The coup on Rator has de-legitimized any government of the Romulan Star Empire that may emerge. Starfleet Command and the Federation Council have concluded that non-interference by the Federation would not prevent extensive interference by any faction with an interest in the Velorum sector, none of whom would prioritise the self-determination of the system’s inhabitants. In short, they have decided the Prime Directive does not apply here, and have accepted Resak’s plea for assistance,” Sitting back in his chair, he looked at the Vulcan to continue.

“Starfleet Command is dispatching the Fourth Fleet to the Velorum sector to assist in establishing provisional governments and to help the region make plans for the future. A dedicated diplomatic delegation is also being dispatched to discuss any long-term relationship that may exist between Velorum and the Federation. It will be the role of the Fourth Fleet, of which Temeraire is a vital cog, to support the populace of the Velorum sector in their overall goal of enabling the region’s self-determination, as free as possible from external meddling,” finally, the Vulcan concluded her briefing.

“You can always rely on the Romulans to destabilise an already unstable situation even further,” Vasoch growled as he shook his head at the revelations from the two visitors to the ship. “Captain, we can be ready to go whenever you need,” he added.

“Temeraire will form part of a task group that will respond to the needs of the Kunhri system. As the largest vessel in the task group at present, Commander T’Prynn will travel with you and serve as Strategic Operations officer. She’ll be your link to me, and to command,” Ekwueme revealed in his thick accent. “She will report directly to you and your executive officer during her time aboard. Her security clearance grants her access to virtually everything you are likely to need in this mission, so I am sure she will not mind if you use her talents freely,” he smirked as he looked at the much prettier Vulcan.

Ordinarily, the Andorian would be more than a little upset at Starfleet interfering with her command in such a way, but even she could see the necessity of the situation. “You are most welcome, Commander,” the Andorian smiled, “Commander Gor; can you ensure our guest has the appropriate quarters and enter her arrival into the ship’s log. And with your permission sir, we’ll depart tomorrow morning.”

“That will be acceptable,” the Commodore agreed as he rose to his feet with a creek that he was sure the others would have heard. “If you need anything in the meantime, or while out there, let me know.”

“Aye sir,” the Commander nodded.

As the other two began to discuss more important matters, Vasoch and his Vulcan counterpart did as instructed. Standing, he nodded his farewell to the Admiral and to the Captain, and then led the Vulcan out of the room to find someone in ops.

With the two dismissed, the Admiral and the Captain made their way to the Andorian’s sofa to further discuss the mission at hand in greater privacy. Their conversation would take some time, but upon its conclusion she was left with the strongest belief that her crew would be the right ones to deal with the mission parameters.

At least if they made it out of spacedock tomorrow, anyway…

Early morning starts tended to be a lot more bearable when one’s starship was in dock, since no one really cared or monitored where anyone was – even CO’s had been known to wander off, or even indulge in the odd lie in from time to time when there was nowhere for the ship to go. But when orders had been received, taking such liberties was no longer an option. That was certainly the case at the start of play on the twentieth day of the Temeraire’s layover at Starbase Bravo. Captain sh’Elas had been up since the break of day as she contemplated the disturbing information and detailed events that had learned about the night before. She had been advised to tell only a select number of her crew about the ship’s impending mission, and leave the rest to find out after their departure, but last night’s goings-on simply didn’t sit well with her. So, as advised, she had called her senior staff to their first briefing together at zero-seven-thirty; she, of course, would be fashionably late as she was taking her time to come up with the exact words to share with her people. For now, they would just have to wait for her to arrive.

Observation Lounge, Deck One

Henry Mitchell, eager to please on his first official duty shift entered the briefing room and stopped in his tracks. For a pocket battleship, some of her rooms were really quite elegant, and this observation lounge was one of them. Circular in shape, the room was dominated by two large features on the port and starboard walls. On the left, possibly the largest interactive display other than a viewscreen he had ever seen, and on the right, a large collection of gold gilded starships, ships that he presumed were this fine vessel’s lineage. In the center of the room, an almost rectangular table filled the void, with a single chair directly facing the screen (no doubt for the vessel’s commanding officer), and eight other chairs spread evenly on both sides. On the backs of each chair

He made a quick pit stop at the replicator to get a coffee. The one (or was it three?) that he had at breakfast already seemed to be wearing off, so he made sure to order something stronger. Turning back to the table, he was almost ecstatic to find that the table top was equipped with a brand new holographic projector which would make briefings interesting for sure. Then he noticed the real surprise, and a very nice touch. Roughly half way up the backrest of each chair, on a gold plaque and in a traditional Starfleet font, black letters signalled the seats desired occupant. He ran his fingers across the headrests of several chairs as he rounded the table until he spied his own name. “Lieutenant Henry Mitchell, Chief Flight Operations Officer,” he read quietly, a smile adorning his freshly shaved face. “Chief. Damn, that sounds good,” he spoke proudly as he pulled out the chair and took his seat, waiting for the others to arrive.

Lieutenant Linn Mora made sure he was not the first to enter, but was still early. He entered with his coffee and two PADDs. One for taking notes and the second for referencing ship information as needed. He was doing his best to not let his enthusiasm show too much. He took a seat at the end of the table. “Good morning Lieutenant,” the Bolian smiled at Mitchell as he sat directly opposite him.

“Hi there,” Mitchell grinned, opening his mouth to introduce himself but stopping when the doors parted again.

Doctor Zinn walked into the briefing room and took his seat around the table. “Morning boys,” he said as he adjusted his final seating position. “So, early morning briefing must mean something fun, right? Maybe an internship competition?”

“It had better be more than another month of sitting here,” Lieutenant Akaria Okan groused as she entered the Briefing Room hot on the heels of the Chief Medical Officer. She carried a cup of herbal tea, mango and pineapple infused with ginseng root, and took the seat opposite Lieutenant Mora. Sleep had eluded the Risian for most of the night, giving way to a more cantankerous than normal Chief Science Officer.

There was a familiar, if slightly more intense, aura to the observation lounge as the ship’s Bajoran Tactical Operations chief made her way inside. She was a few moments behind the good doctor and scientist, though not enough to be on their heels. Noli had to wait for the door to ‘swish’ open and permit her entrance, where she stepped inside then paused to smile politely at everyone. “Good morning,” she said as she moved to the table. Sitting next to the Doctor, she set her mug of tea on the table after taking a sip.

“Oh my god, it’s Blondie,” Henry thought to himself as he watched the beautiful tactician take a seat across the table from him. Long, flowing blonde locks; bright red lips; gorgeous, green eyes. Christ, she was looking at him now. Was he staring? Frak, he was. She was going to think him rude, wasn’t she? Damn it, he’d blown it before he had even learnt her name.

Striding through the doors into the briefing room, large PADD and stylus in hand, Vasoch noted those who had arrived before him, and gave them each a nod as he made his way to the seat directly to the right-hand side of the captain, where he’d be able to see everyone while giving the captain his full attention. Once he’d taken his seat, he activated his PADD and brought up the note-taking function, ensuring the stylus he was grasping in his left hand had fully linked up, and then sat back, an alert, and curious look on his face. He was intrigued as to how the gathering crew would take the news that had been shared with him the night before.

“Be careful what you wish for. You may just get it,” the Bolian advised from his position on the left side of the table, sounding somewhat wiser than the behaviour he had demonstrated the evening before had suggested.

Just as the Ops Chief finished his sentence, Lieutenant Prida Rala entered; the Bajoran-Cardassian (or Bajassian as she had been named by the troublesome trio the night before), walked in and took her seat at the table, greeting a number of the personnel present in silence.

Finally, after what no doubt seemed like an eternity to those that were awaiting her arrival, the starboard doors to the observation lounge parted and the commander of the ship entered the room. It did not escape the notice of her staff, however, that she was not alone. A tall, elegant looking brunette with pointed ears followed closely behind. Whilst sh’Elas looked weary and anxious, her Vulcan companion looked bright-eyed and bushy tailed. A complete contrast of ever there was one.

Tharia made her way swiftly to her seat at the head of the table without pomp or fanfare, and gestured for the Vulcan to take the seat on her right, directly opposite Gor. “Let’s go around the departments for a brief update before we get into the details of why we are here at this ungodly hour. Who wants to begin?” she queried, looking out at the gathered group.

As was standard for a ship in spacedock undergoing repairs, the status reports were rather dull. Nothing was really happening with the crew, although it appeared they were finally gelling together after the success of the previous night’s movie shenanigans. One notable success came from Prida, with the Bajassian reporting that all trace of the MARS system had been removed, and all affected systems were running as normal. 

With the status updates out of the way, Tharia finally opted to address the proverbial elephant in the room.

“Everyone, I’d like you all to welcome a late addition to the staff. Some of you will know her from time aboard the Santa Fe, but for those that don’t,” she held out a hand and smiled towards the woman on her left, “this is Lieutenant Commander T’Prynn, our new Strategic Operations Officer.”

Among the murmurs of greeting, and the ‘nice to see you agains’, the ship’s science lead made a mental note of the fact that a relatively small ship had been assigned an officer who would usually be serving on a much larger command-type vessel. It was a sign, to the Risian at least, that something major was at hand. Nothing could prepare her for just how major.

For the next twenty minutes, sh’Elas and T’Prynn, ably supported by Commander Gor, led the briefing on the events from the night before. No detail was spared as they relayed all of the information that had been shared with them by Commodore Ekwueme.

Wide-eyed expressions of disbelief and audible gasps from most around the table were noted by the captain as she awaited the first comment, the first question. For now, she let the major news sink in.

“Frak me,” Doctor Zinn eventually broke the ice with his preferred obscenity of choice, “Romulans never do things by halves, do they?” his rhetorical question accompanied by a shake of the ahead as he collapsed back into his chair.

“Right,” Noli chimed in, her stance the polar opposite of the physician as she placed her arms on the surface of the table and leant forward. “Let me get this straight in my head. The Romulans assassinate their Senate leaders. Those who survive, flee to the Federation and request our assistance. In the meantime, dozens of worlds claim their independence and strike out on their own, seeking allegiances where possible but utterly denouncing the Star Navy in the process?” she queried, looking down the table towards the Vulcan strategist for confirmation.

A curt nod of the Vulcan’s head gave her the confirmation she needed. 

“And Starfleet Intelligence never saw this coming? It took them completely by surprise?” Noli questioned the Captain next, looking towards the Andorian for answers.

“Apparently so, Lieutenant,” Tharia shrugged.

Noli threw herself back in her chair. “Frak me indeed,” she shook her head, the tone of derision making some around the table chuckle.

“They are supposed to be an intelligence unit,” Lieutenant Mora spoke up next, “you would like to think they had the resources to pre-empt this. You’d expect them to see this coming,” he spoke.

“I could have seen it with my eyes closed,” Prida shook her head in disbelief.

“I could have seen it from Risa…” Akaria Okan smirked, shaking her head in utter disbelief, sparking further laughter around the table. It wasn’t just any kind of laughter though. You know the sort, right? The sort where if you don’t laugh, you’ll probably cry? Yeah, that was what was happening here, such was the ridiculous lack of intelligence and the shock of what had occurred under their very noses.

“We depart for Starbase Twenty-Three in two hours. Take your stations and begin departure preparations,” the Captain ordered her people, but stopping them in their tracks as some started to stand up. “If your people ask what our mission is, tell them nothing. We’ll tell them closer to the time,” the Andorian pushed herself up from her seat and looked at the XO. “Commander Gor; contact the ships of our task group and let them know we’re looking forward to seeing them at Starbase Twenty-Three. The rest of you, I’ll see you on the bridge for departure in just under two hours. Dismissed.” And with that, she headed for the port side door which led to the nearest turbo lift.

As the briefing room emptied, it was certain that events were about to transpire that meant today would be a day that would live in the memory of all on the Temeraire…

Temeraire was on her way to Starbase 23 with a sense of great urgency and, with Commander T’Prynn in command of the bridge for the first time, the Captain had returned to the ships library on deck 7 to carry out some research into the history of the Star Empire. The research was nothing she couldn’t have done in her ready room, or on the bridge itself, but the change of scenery to somewhere quiet would be more conducive to her success – or so she hoped. To help her in her efforts, she had summoned the Counsellor to join her.

Vittoria was no stranger to the library, either here or on the Santa Fe before now. It was a quiet place to help her unwind with a new book after a long, hard day, and she had become a frequent visitor to countless libraries over the years, although today she was here on official business, and as she entered, she spied the Captain at one of the library access terminals.

“Hey boss,” Vittoria said casually as she approached Tharia, but then she blushed when she realized this was not the proper way to greet her commanding officer. A momentary lapse, or had she misjudged her relationship with the CO? “Reporting for duty,” she then said to sh’Elas, trying to regain a sense of proper deportment.

“Hey boss?” sh’Elas grinned as she turned slowly to look at the Counsellor, antenna bolt upright in surprise as let out a laugh. “From now on, it is standard procedure for you to greet me like that at all times,” she declared in between laughter, reaching out for a second chair and pulling it closer for her colleague to take a seat. For the usually prim and proper commander of the Temeraire, it was a great change to have someone at her side who was less.. weird… and less stiff. Someone willing to speak her mind and, apparently, even act like a goof at times.

Vittoria’s blush deepened. “Please tell me you’re joking, Captain,” she said, taking the offered seat. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Zinn liked to ‘ruffle her feathers’, but now the Captain was doing it too? They must have been plotting with one another!

“No, I’m deadly serious!” Tharia shook her head, “greet me in any other fashion and I’ll demote you on the spot,” she told seriously before looking at the console she had been working on. “So… I’ve been looking into the history of the Empire,” she said before looking back at Vittoria, “what do you know about it?”

Vittoria took a deep, deep breath, then let it out slowly. ‘See what you’ve done now?!’ scolded herself internally. Refocusing on the matter at hand, Vittoria answered sh’Elas with, “The Romulans originated from dissident Vulcans who rejected Surak’s philosophy of peace, during the Time of Awakening and emigrated from their homeworld around the 4th century. They settled on the planets Romulus and Remus, subjugating the native Remans in the process. In 2152, the Romulans came into contact with the Earth starship Enterprise. Relations between the Empire and United Earth deteriorated until there was a four-year period of open warfare in 2156, only ending after a humiliating Romulan defeat at the Battle of Cheron. The ensuing peace treaty established the Romulan Neutral Zone, after which the Romulans had no substantial contact with Humans for a century.”

Tharia sat back as she took in the history lesson from the Counsellor, who had been doing her own research and would no doubt be a great asset to the captain, as she always was.

“When the Romulans emerged from their isolation, they pretty much engaged with us in a cold war like state until the Dominion War. A brief alliance existed until the closing of the conflict. During the war, many Remans were conscripted from the mines of Remus to serve as shocktroopers,” the Counsellor paused, shifting uncomfortably in her seat as she recounted what she could recall from her research. “One particular man, a human clone named Shinzon, distinguished himself in battle, and became a respected leader among the Remans; he and his followers began amassing greater power within the Empire. In 2379, Shinzon seized control of the government, assassinating the Senate and declaring himself Praetor. Despite subsequent efforts to launch a genocidal attack on Earth, Shinzon’s defeat led to hope on both sides that a lasting peace between the Romulans and the Federation would follow.”

“And how did that pan out?” sh’Elas asked with a smirk, knowing exactly what followed. The discovery of the Romulan supernova, the destruction of the Romulus star system, the attack on Mars and the evacuation armada, and the banning of all synthetic lifeforms (which had, thankfully, been overturned more recently).

“Yeah, the Star Empire has changed significantly in recent times…” Tharia frowned as she pulled up a new record, “but one thing that has always remained, even during the Dominion War, was the oppression of the Reman species. It would seem they have finally had enough,” the Andorian pulled up a list of recent uprisings ever since the initial coup on Rator. “Twenty-three worlds so far, and that’s only the ones Starfleet Intelligence knows about.”

“That’s unsettling,” Vittoria replied as she looked over this new information. “This is going to change the dynamic in the Beta Quadrant significantly,” the Counsellor advised, giving her take on the situation, looking over the data on display. “Surely the Romulans would be the lesser of two evils? At least we know what we are dealing with there. The Remans are so… unpredictable,” she added.

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” the Captain quoted as she leant back in her chair. “Whilst they may be unpredictable, everything they have shown us so far suggests they have united behind a common cause – to rid themselves of their Romulan oppressors and bring about a fairer civilization,” she let out a sigh as she rubbed her blue temple. “Let’s not forget, the Romulans that led the coup on their Senate started this whole situation,” she added, folding her arms across her chest and glancing at the Betazoid.

“What I’m most confused about is why we’ve had nothing from the Free State, or the Republic for that matter. Not so much as a word…” Vittoria mused aloud.

“That’s easy,” the Captain told as she pulled up a map of the Psi Velorum sector, “Not a single world that has claimed independence has shown any intent to unite with either the Free State or the Republic. They both operate differently, but they still represent the same oppression that the Star Empire stood for. Neither regime has granted the Remans equal status, or freed them from their work in the dilithium mines across what was Romulan space,” the Captain mused as she folded her arms again and glared at the screen. “According to Starfleet Intel, this Resak we are helping saw an opportunity to project strength and power for his people, but he is doing it with support from some in the Romulan military,” she informed before adding again, “my brain hurts.”

“I concur,” Vittoria replied, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s all terribly disappointing. We were making so much headway before the supernova, and now it seems the Empire has taken a total nose dive off the cliff of insanity.”

“Perhaps…” the Captain trailed off, before leaning forward and tapping the screen. The file on display changed to an image of the Kunhri system in the Psi Velorum sector, the very same areas that the Temeraire was headed towards. “They don’t like Starfleet here, but they hate the Romulans even more right now. If that makes them more receptive to our overtures and helps bring about peace with at least one group of people, then this will be worth it, right?” she asked, almost looking for reassurance that what she had said was right.

Vittoria didn’t notice the Captain’s expression as she glared at the screen. “Peace at a cost? Let’s hope that history sees things our way,” Vittoria ventured.

Tharia lent so far forward this time she banged her blue head on the work surface and let out a slightly muffled “God, I hope so…”

Vittoria actually jumped in her seat slightly at the thunk of her head hitting the work surface. “I’m sure we’ll be perfectly vindicated in everything we do, but I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to come to light that we don’t know about, and I hope we don’t regret getting involved so quickly, and so heavily.”

Tharia sat up in her chair and rubbed her head before looking over at the Betazoid again. “Maybe you’re right, but I hope you’re not,” she smiled, more out of hope than anything. “I’m going to need you on the bridge during our dealings at Kunhri,” she ran a hand through her silver mane as a loud sigh emanated from her. “We’ve got so much to do and I’m going to need all hands on deck for this one.”

Letting out quite an audible ‘Ugh’, the Counsellor almost did a Noli and threw herself backwards in dramatic fashion, but opted against it. “You know I hate the bridge…”

“I know, but we need you up there,” sh’Elas nodded as she rose to her feet. “I’ll make it up to you with an extra off shift when we’re done,” she twitched her eyebrows a few times playfully in an attempt to persuade the Counsellor.

“Oh, alright,” Vittoria replied with a laugh. “If there’s nothing else, then I will get right on up there-” she had to stop herself from saying ‘Captain’, then with a sigh she said, “Boss.”

sh’Elas let out the biggest grin to date and playfully slapped the woman on the back as she walked past the Counsellor and towards the opposite exit. “See,” she laughed, “I knew it would catch on!”

Whilst the bridge of a starship wasn’t the biggest room on the vessel, or the busiest, it was perhaps the most important. As they had for centuries before, on countless vessels from steamers to starships, the bridge was not only the focal point of the ‘Bridge Module’, but it was also the nerve-center for the entire ship. Manned by the top officers of each department when duties required it, the bridge was home away from home for the ship’s commander, and no matter where their adventures would take them, they always found themselves to be truly happy when sitting in ‘that’ chair at the centre of the bridge. Captain sh’Elas was no different, regardless of the vessel she found herself aboard. She loved being on the bridge at the best of times, but the bridge of the Temeraire was something to be marvelled at.

Modelled on the successful layout of its older, larger cousin the Sovereign-class, the bridge of the Temeraire had a slightly altered colour scheme and a much changed console layout across the bridge. Making the most of a variety of technological advancements, such as holoprojectors, holographic communications, in-built weapons lockers and three dimensional computer displays in places, the bridge module was one of the most advanced in the fleet. 

In a move away from more recent styles, and harking back to the traditional layouts of yesteryear, the Temeraire had a single center command seat for the commanding officer. Directly ahead of them, down a few steps and between the commanding officer and the massive, holographic viewscreen, two angled consoles served as duty stations for Operations and Flight Operations. Next, and facing into the heart of the bridge to allow maximum participation with the rest of the bridge crew were duty stations for science and tactical operations. Directly behind the commanding officer, and in a further break from tradition, a combined duty station served as positioning for the two most senior advisors and assistants to the ship’s commander; the Strategic Operations Officer and Executive Officer. Around the outside of the bridge, there were countless other additional stations. On the aft bulkhead, engineering finally got its all important focus. With a large, entirely interactive and customizable master systems display and other engineering controls, the representative from engineering had full access to the ship’s systems. With resources like that at their disposal, why would anyone want to be anywhere other than on the bridge?

Perhaps one of its most charming features was the emblem of the United Federation of Planets emblazoned on the carpeting as a constant reminder of all the ship stood for, what it represented. It was also something that united the crews of both the Temeraire and the Santa Fe – Starfleet, the Federation, the Galaxy. They had been brought together to serve and protect the interests of all they would come across. That started today, with their mission to Psi Velorum.

Sitting at the heart of the bridge, the two hours until departure stations was almost up.

At Strategic Operations, Commander T’Prynn was already sat in deep conversation with the Tellarite executive officer, getting to grips with the situation and planning their moves once the ship arrived in the Kunhri system. Nearby, and liaising every so often, the blonde-haired bombshell known as Noli Auru was hard at work with her department assistant, Mayur Bellurr, with both officers getting to grips with the recent adjustments to the defensive and offensive systems of the Inquiry-class starship.

Lieutenant Linn Mora strode through the aft-turbolift doors heading directly for his seat at the forward operations station. Although he had been on the bridge countless times, recent changes had made it ‘feel’ different. It was a feeling that he hoped he would be able to shake off soon, but for now, he shared a nod of acknowledgement with Lieutenant Okan at science, breezing by and taking his place at the ‘Ops’ station. As far as he was concerned, it was the second best seat on the bridge after the pilot and navigator station. There was nothing like being smack in the middle of all the action.

Henry Mitchell, all bright eyed and bushy tailed, was at the CONN long before the captain had even shown up, doing the final preflights and his research about the phenomena they might face in the Psi Velorum sector. The departure was finally upon them and there was a grin on the Lieutenant’s face that had been there all morning. There was nothing quite like taking a ship out for the first time after taking over, and while it wasn’t the Temeraire’s first trip, it was her first official mission under the new command crew, and the first time Mitchell would have the controls.

The next to walk onto the bridge was Lieutenant Chiera, who generally didn’t spend much time up here unless her presence was requested. While she was a senior advisor to the captain and a frequent fill-in for a diplomatic corps, she always felt that her place was in her office. Talking to the crew, helping them, getting to know everyone and help set everyone up for success for themselves and for the ship. 

Now, though, her presence as part of the senior staff had been requested, and so here she was. She didn’t know which seat she was to take today, given the unique, single-center seat style of this new bridge, so she simply approached the captain with a polite nod of greeting. “Boss.”

Later than she would have liked, Lieutenant Prida strode onto the bridge from out of the turbolift in long, exaggerated strides. As with those entering onto the bridge, she offered her commanding officer a formal, “Captain” as she passed behind her and over to the engineering display on the back wall. From all of the specs and schematics she had observed of the ship, the bridge was still a sight to behold; streamlined and accessible; not gaudy, but Starfleet had spared no expense in making it look everything like a modern bridge should. Prida felt a pang of pride, in herself and in her shipmates, that they were the ones manning this marvel. Though she hadn’t spent nearly as much time on the bridge yet as she would have wanted, that all ended here; this was her place now, and she could feel that energy emanating from the emblazoned Federation logo at the heart of their nerve-center.

Doctor Zinn was next to arrive. Like Vittoria, he didn’t spend much time on the Bridge, or at least he hadn’t until that point. But Tharia had told him that would have to change during all of this, so he felt the need to be on the Bridge for departure. The command centre was impressive to be fair, far more so than that of the Santa Fe. He walked slowly around the perimeter of the room, taking note of the details until one in particular caught his attention; the seal of the Federation on the carpet in the centre of the room. “Seriously?!” he frowned, folding his arms across his chest and giving off a ‘hrmph’ of disappointment as he stared at the seal on the floor. “Is every ship in the fleet going to have one of these now? Are they worried we might think we’re Romulan or something by mistake?”

”Actually, doctor, I think it’s there to remind the Federation of its roots, our mandate, or mission,” the bushy-haired executive officer piped up, diverting his attention from the work of the Strategic Operations officer for a moment.

“Hey!” Zinn grinned, pointing at the Captain, “That sounded almost like…” then his smile faded and the two took a moment to remember their fallen comrade and friend. He had very nearly mucked up then, but atoned for his misdemeanour by simply giving the Captain a smile, and nodding at the symbol on the carpet before making his way to his medical station.

“Yard control has sent our final launch permissions Captain, clear to depart on your order ma’am,” Mitchell said as his console chirped with the final permissions from the shipyard to allow them to head out.

“All departments report ready, Captain,” Commander Gor assured their commanding officer from the station just behind the Andorian.

“Very well Commander,” the Captain acknowledged the words of her new executive officer and diverted her attention to one of the stations to the side of the command chair. “Lieutenant Noli,” she called out, observing the Bajoran naming tradition, “can you confirm that all visitors and yard personnel have disembarked? I don’t want any hitchhikers on the journey to Psi Velorum.”

Noli nodded and examined her screen. She clicked through two different databases, one that tracked visitors and then conducted a final security scan of the ship to make sure only authorized personnel were left on board. “Ma’am, the last yard worker is departing as we speak. All remaining personnel on board are confirmed to be members of the crew only,” Noli remarked with a nod of confirmation to women sat in the best seat in the house.

“Warp core operating at peak efficiency. All systems check out and we are green across the board. All systems available at your command Captain,” Lieutenant Prida advised from the MSD and engineering displays at the back of the bridge.

‘Let’s get on with it already,’ Mitchell thought to himself but kept his mouth shut so as to not risk annoying the Captain during these early stages. It wasn’t every day you got to take a ship out for the very first time as Chief. To say he was excited was an understatement.

“Release docking clamps and clear all moorings. Helm, ahead one quarter impulse power. When we’re clear, set a course for Starbase 23 at warp seven,” the Andorian commanded.

Within a matter of moments, forward momentum could be felt by all on the bridge as the ship began to inch forward, faster and faster until it reached the velocity ordered.

“We’ve cleared all moorings, taking us forward at one quarter,” Mitchell said, his fingers nibbling and dancing over the controls, spinning the ship onto its departure axis. “Clearing yard control… taking us to full impulse. Ready for warp on your order.”

Tharia glanced down at the back of Mitchell’s head as he signalled they were now clear and ready to initiate warp. “Thank you, Lieutenant… In that case, engage.”

“Aye, taking us to warp,” Henry chimed, “Course confirmed, cruising speed of warp seven.”

In the safety of her command chair, the Captain watched the stars zip by at warp speed, a content smile creeping across her face as she took in the welcome sight and absorbed the hum of the ship through the soles of her feet. It was fantastic to be back, out among the stars once again.

Starbase 23, and Psi Velorum, awaited.

Silence.

Silence that screamed with sin. It was unnatural; a void refusing to be filled to prolong the agony and suffering of the blue-skinned woman occupying the space that silence so readily filled.

Silence gnawed at her insides, hanging in the air like the suspended moment before a falling glass shattered on the ground. The silence was like a gaping void, needing to be filled with sounds… words… anything. The silence was poisonous in its nothingness, cruelly underscoring how frantic the approaching storm they faced truly was. The silence was eerily unnatural, like a dawn devoid of birdsong. Silence clung to the Ready Room like a poisonous cloud that at any moment could choke the life from the lone occupant. Silence seeped into her every pore, like a poison slowly paralyzing her from either speech or movement.

“Would you like to pause your log entry?”

Shaken back to the here and now by the computerized voice of the main computer, the Andorian commander of the Temeraire turned her head briefly to look at her computer console. It seemed she had drifted into a land of silent contemplation whilst dictating her personal log, for god knows how long, but long enough for the computer to detect the silence and prompt her back to life.

“Negative. Continue log,” the Andorian responded as she pushed her chair away from the desk and gradually rose to her feet. It took mere steps before she was at the coffee table and pouring herself a mug of what was now lukewarm coffee. A sip later, she took a few strides to the window of her private office and glared out into the abyss far beyond the bulkheads of her vessel.

“As twilight approaches, with the Temeraire still at warp and headed for Starbase Twenty-Three, I find myself feeling nauseous as the reality of our situation sinks in,” she spoke quietly, her voice almost at a whisper as she let her thoughts out into the open. “We’re being tasked with supporting a world on its quest to self-determination, yet I struggle to even determine whether or not I am the right person to lead this crew,” she sighed, lowering her head and closing her eyes, hands bracing the bulkhead either side of the window for support. “Despite the progress we’ve made in the last few days, words like trust, loyalty and respect keep getting tossed around with worrying ease. How can any captain, let alone one with as little experience as myself, hope to help such a world when one’s own crew is distrusting and questioning each other’s loyalty?” It felt awful to have these doubts, especially as she had already had to overcome them once she had taken command of the Santa Fe from Captain Farrell, but had been dealt with a blessed hand that day. Everyone on the ship had wanted her, rather than someone else, to step-up after the Captain’s promotion. Here, it was a different story… and it felt like Targ dung.

Thankfully, her dwelling was cut short when the internal communications array chirped to life and caused her to turn away from her window and back to the desk in order to pause her log. “sh’Elas here, go ahead,” she called out after pressing a button on her computer console.

“Noli here Captain,” the familiar voice of the ship’s security chief responded, “your presence is requested in the observation lounge by Commander Gor, ma’am.”

Letting out a sigh that was no doubt audible to the Lieutenant on the bridge, the Captain reached out and grabbed her uniform jacket. Slinging it over her shoulder, hooked on the end of her right-hand index finger, the Andorian reached down again. “I’m on my way,” she said, then terminated the call.

Trekking across the bridge to the observation lounge was hardly like trekking across the Himalayas, but it still seemed long enough for her to contemplate what the Commander could possibly want from her in the observation lounge that he couldn’t talk about in her ready room. She didn’t have long to wait in order to find out.

Entering the briefing room, she was taken aback by the presence of not only the XO, but also the Counsellor and the Vulcan strategist they had taken aboard just yesterday. All three of her officer’s were glued to the large wall display that dominated the aft bulkhead of the senior staff’s private meeting place. Since their initial briefing, the Andorian had ordered the briefing room to become an old fashioned situation room of sorts. Consoles displayed real time events from across the Star Empire, the holographic display at the center of the main table had readouts and schematics of the Kunhri system twirling around a depiction of the planet itself, whilst the main viewscreen was dominated by reports from the Federation News Service. Somewhat bizarrely it seemed like the New Service was getting information and sharing it with the galaxy long before Starfleet Intelligence seemed able to, and it was this information that the officer’s were so glued to that they even failed to notice her arrival.

Stepping towards the small gathering, the captain slung her jacket onto the table top and folded her arms across her chest. “What’s occurring?” she finally interrupted them.

“People…” Vasoch growled, “…that’s what’s occurring.”

Commander T’Prynn nodded respectfully to the captain before reaching out to press a button on the screen. “I believe that you should be aware of the developing situation, Captain,” she told, then pressed on one of the various screens.

An image of a news reporter suddenly expanded to fill the screen, drawing emphasis to that particular bulletin. It also begged the question of how the hell an FNS reporter had gotten to a world in the Empire so quickly, and so freely.

“Thousands of Reman construction workers on the planet Kunhri IV, employed to assist with rebuilding efforts after a recent ecological disaster, have officially begun to strike today, protesting the news of the Federation’s imminent involvement in the Velorum Sector,” a Bolian man spoke, looking back at the scene behind him briefly before the clip changed to a snarling, grey-skinned, bald-headed figure.

“They think that we’ll complain once or twice and get over it,” said the agitated Reman. “This isn’t a minor inconvenience. Psi Velorum doesn’t dictate things here in the Kunhri system! The only thing worse than a Romulan is a Federation,” the man moaned before moving off in frustration.

“Oh, nice,” Tharia smirked, shaking her head as she perched on the edge of the table that dominated the room, “So thrilled that the locals can’t wait for us to arrive,” she mocked, exchanging sarcastic glances with the Counsellor briefly.

“We’ve received word that despite major technological issues and a lack of food resources, many on Kunhri are unhappy at the idea of trading one occupier for another; even one with a face as friendly as the Federation. Past events have not been forgotten out here, on the outer rim of Romulan territory,” the Bolian continued his report, “Officials in the provisional government believe that the Federation’s assistance, along with intensive participation and support from the Reman populace, will be a deciding factor in any rebuilding process that can take place. However, in the face of this incident and many more like it, in a situation that many Remans are taking as a personal affront to their abilities, any progress towards their end goals may be endangered.”

The screen changed once again to the figure of a Romulan, flanked by two burly, menacing looking Remans. “What we have done cannot be undone, unless we permit it,” said the man to a mixed Reman/Romulan audience. “Unless we allow our bonds of friendship, forged in strife and truth and hard-won victories, to take precedence over any support the Federation may give us. We must send a clear message to the Starfleet interlopers; we don’t want, or need, your help! We can do this on our own!”

Launching herself forward at speed, the Captain pressed the mute button in the bottom left and let the figures on the screen prattle on like some sort of twentieth century Terran mime act (god, how she loved old Earth entertainment, but now was not the time).

Glancing at the Captain, the Counsellor slowly edged herself away from the visibly annoyed mistress of the Temeraire, able to sense the rising tide of frustration that threatened to engulf the blue-skinned woman.

“What’s wrong with you?” Tharia asked, glancing at the Counsellor.

“Nothing, nothing,” Vittoria retorted instantly. Wide eyed, she averted her gaze to the floor and looked uncomfortable for a time.

Shaking her head, the Captain shrugged. “Commander,” she addressed T’Prynn as she went back to folding her arms across her chest in a protective manner. “I’m not going to lie. We’re not even there yet and I’m feeling a little insulted. We never asked to be involved here. I was all happy and ready to speed off into the far, distant reaches of the Alpha Quadrant, only to have our asses dragged all this way for, it seems, a populace that doesn’t even want our help.”

“Starfleet Command and the Federation Council believe that responding to the pleas of the provisional government is a matter of significant importance,” Commander T’Prynn responded to the Captain’s statement, “We face the collapse of an entire empire, so it is incumbent on us to provide any and all assistance required of us.”

“I wish Starfleet Intelligence would give their bloody heads a collective wobble,” the executive officer of the Temeraire growled, “How can it be incumbent on us to get involved if our very presence brings us into conflict with the locals?” Vasoch fumed, his eyes still glued on the view screen and the developing situation.

Tharia smiled for a moment. It was clear that Vasoch was every bit a Tellarite, complete with his fiery temperament and his ability to argue and debate anything, or anyone. Even a logician like T’Prynn.

“I have garnered assurances that the protests are far from widespread, Commander. Our presence is both desired and required,” the Vulcan countered, as stoic as always, the hands clasped together behind her back aiding her in staying calm and poised.

“Alright, I’m calling it quits for the night. Keep up to date on developments and I’ll see you all in the morning,” sh’Elas pushed herself off of the table, stifling a yawn as she moved. “I can’t wait to see how we can make this disaster even more spectacular!” she remarked with her trademark wit and humour, leaving the senior officers to their business.

“We’re only at warp speed, lightyears from Romulan space, and we’re already causing trouble,” Vasoch grunted as he followed the Captain out of the briefing room, “what else could possibly go wrong?”

“Awwww man, you’ve done it now… What did you have to say that for?!” Vittoria exclaimed as she gave chase and followed after the XO. “Come on, sir. You’ve been around long enough to know you never, ever, ask that question!”

Watching the Betazoid chastise the smaller, yet higher ranked individual as they, too, left the room, a quizzically raised eyebrow signalled the confusion that the Vulcan was feeling.

Amid all of the uncertainty they faced, there was one near certainty she could rely on. This assignment was going to prove to be one of the more challenging of her very long career.

____________________________________________________________________________________

Kunhri III.

Reviewing the latest report compiled by various members of her department, Lieutenant Akaria Okan glanced up at the image which dominated the viewscreen, her expression troubled. Once a thriving planet, full of life, the world they now hurtled towards was now nothing more than a testament to a horror which had befallen the citizens who called the planet home.

They had no idea exactly what was awaiting them when they responded to the call for assistance from the fledgling government, but the poor people of Kunhri needed them more than ever. Even if only to determine that they didn’t want to be associated with the Federation on a long term basis. Self-determination was a universal right for all, of that she was certain. But even in the 25th century, such rights were being denied to countless people across the galaxy.Their intervention here at Kunhri was vital in this growing rebellion, and she was not afraid to say that she supported such movements. She just hoped the crew could give the people of Kunhri III what they desired.

Nursing a freshly replicated cup of hot chocolate, the Risian stood in command of the bridge, sighing heavily as she refrained from once again asking engineering if they could coax some more life out of the engines. Inwardly, she doubted they could ever get to the Kunhri system fast enough. And she had heard enough Bajoran, Cardassian and even Orion profanities in the last few hours to last a lifetime.

In the meantime, her orders from their captain were clear. With their brief stop over at Starbase Twenty-Three behind them, maintaining course and being on the lookout for any developments (by that, she was sure the captain had meant any possible Romulan sightings) that might be of interest to them.

A strange order, however, had piqued her curiosity. .Until further notice, the briefing room had been declared off limits by the executive officer, and that couldn’t possibly mean good news, could it?

Staring at the doorway to the briefing room, the entrance flanked by two of Lieutenant Noli’s most able henchmen, the scientist allowed her mind to run wild at the possibilities. Some were decidedly Vulcan in their nature, while some were downright inappropriate.

A huge grin filled the woman’s face as she glared at the door, her expression drawing the interest of the Bolian Operations chief who slowly sauntered towards his station.

“What’s got you so excited?” he quizzed, following the science officer’s gaze momentarily and between sips of his own beverage, noting briefly the security officers at the entrance to the briefing room. It wasn’t unheard of to have security officers present on the bridge, but far from frequent during peacetime. Starships were safe spaces, with visitors usually free to come and go as they saw fit (and within reason of course).

“Oh, nothing,” she smiled. She couldn’t very well explain to the Bolian that she was picturing the ship’s executive officer being hogtied upside down and being beaten by a bunch of furry, teddy-like critters, could she?

“My gold pressed latinum is on Commodore Ekwueme,” Henry Mitchell remarked somewhat absent mindedly whilst monitoring the helm of their pocket battleship.

“Probably just some stuffy diplomat…” the Bolian remarked with a shrug, moving off to take over his station at the front of the bridge.

“Probably…” Akaria responded wistfully, secretly praying for her version of events to be true.

If only the Risian had known about the true reality of what was to transpire in said room, and that it was far from the humorous anecdote she had in mind.

“I can understand them pairing us with Neptune, maybe even Dvorak to an extent, but two Ravens?”

Shrugging her shoulders as she walked alongside her new right hand, the Andorian mistress of the Temeraire couldn’t help but agree with Gor’s thoughts. It had been explained to her, of course, but she still struggled to believe that of all the assets available to the Fourth fleet, this ragtag group was the best that could be assembled for such a mission.

“Command wants Dvorak to focus on the relief efforts, whilst the crews of the Daradax and Thyanis are to concentrate on other matters. Anything they take on is one less responsibility for ourselves and Neptune,” she countered as they headed for the turbo lift to the bridge.

Making a note on the data PADD that he was carrying, the Temeraire’s executive gave off his own little shrug. “Maybe so,” he spoke plainly, “but we’re going to be the ones defending the planet and these little mosquito ships if the Romulans come a calling,” the Tellarite remarked, standing aside briefly to grant the Captain entrance to the turbo lift first.

Nodding in thanks for the gesture, Tharia entered the lift and directed it to deck one once the XO had boarded. As it moved, she stood with her hands clasped together behind her back, and watched him making notes. “Those mosquito ships have a valuable job to do, which will enable us to carry out the directives we have been assigned. If we need to defend them, we defend them, but I’d wager my winnings from this morning’s bet that we won’t even see a Romulan the entire time we’re there,” she grinned, making reference to the sweepstake that had been running among the crew.

Glaring across at her, the Tellarite finally lowered his data PADD. “She had the baby?” he asked, baring his teeth in anger.

Tharia took great joy in smiling and nodding in confirmation. “Yep! Zinn told me that Ensign Cherowitz gave birth right before Alpha shift came on duty,” she then lowered her antennae and looked across at him somewhat accusatively. “You’re the ship’s XO. How can you not know this?”

Vasoch growled as he turned his body to face the door, a move that drew a silent chuckle from the Andorian. “I… was… busy…” he fumed. She knew full well that he was busy since she had tasked him with doing some additional light reading.

Tharia gently slapped the XO on the back as she moved past him once the lift arrived at their destination. “You may not have any gold pressed latinum this time, Commander, but at least you’ve had chance to do some light reading,” she mocked him playfully as she moved onto the bridge.

Following her with a face like thunder, and with a proverbial rain cloud hanging over his head, the XO growled at an advancing Ensign, who quickly scurried in a different direction. “Report!” he beckoned towards the command chair, drawing the attention of its occupier.

Rising to her feet at maximum warp, Lieutenant Akaria Okan spun on her heels and looked at the advancing XO and the Captain. ‘Damn it! No hogtied Tellarite being beaten by furry little teddies,’ she cursed inwardly at the sight (and sound) of the XO’s presence. “All is as it was, sir. We’re at warp, headed for the border. Security’s been there the entire time,” she nodded towards the briefing room entrance at the forefront of the bridge. “Not even moved to pee,” she smiled.

Whilst Gor didn’t find the Risian funny in the slightest, Tharia appreciated the woman’s wit. “Maybe get Noli to replace them whilst we’re inside, huh?” Taking a deep breath, the Captain looked at the two officers, and then the door to the room. Only three people on the crew knew what awaited them there, and two of them were here, in the form of herself and Vasoch. Now, they had to confront what awaited them.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

The journey to Kunhri had, eventually, been pleasant enough. It had proven appropriate to remain in isolation for the majority of the trip, remaining in his assigned quarters and only leaving when it was time for him to leave the ship. In this way, he avoided any risk of conflict. He had learned this the hard way and his now expertly repaired broken cheekbone had been an excellent teacher. He had passed the time reading, exploring the seemingly infinite library he had been granted access to.

Now standing in what he assumed to be some sort of meeting room, he gazed out into space, familiar stars gazing back at him. Somewhere inside, an anxiety that had been festering since he had first spoken to a human at the start of his journey had now built to a constant feeling of unease. He had done the right thing, hadn’t he? Hadn’t they all? He turned when the door opened and gave a tight lipped smile. He forced his body to relax and took a step forward. “Captain sh’Elas, I presume?”

“Yes,” the Andorian looked a little uneasy as she took a step inside, followed incredibly closely by the Tellarite XO, he diminutive bodyguard in this particular moment. “Welcome aboard the Temeraire, Kasik. This is my first officer, Commander Vasoch Gor,” the Andorian made the introductions before stepping around the outside of the room somewhat cautiously. It was not every day that a Reman occupied a Starfleet briefing room, after all.

Commander Gor gave the newcomer a respectful nod, however, he too was on edge. The last recorded time a Reman had been aboard a Starfleet vessel had been when a boarding party had tried to kidnap Picard from the Enterprise in ’79. But now, aboard a Starfleet vessel as an official ‘observer’? Never had he thought he would see the day. He decided to remain silent for the moment.

“I wasn’t expecting such a vessel to so hospitable be,” Kasik replied smoothly, doing his best to maintain an air of professional courtesy, “but then I’m not entirely sure what I expected, given that just a few weeks ago, a Reman on a Starfleet vessel would have been less likely than a Reman praetor,” he remarked, a toothy grin of sorts as he regarded both cautiously. He wasn’t stupid, far from it in fact. He could see their discomfort as plain as the antenna on her head, or the beard on his face. But, he was there as more of a diplomat, and he wanted first contact to go smoothly. He knew that the situation had been as unthinkable to them as it was him, so he wasn’t going to make it any harder than it had to be. “It is well to make your introduction, Commander Gor.”

Gor inwardly winced at the fragmented Terran, but then reminded himself that this was probably the first time their visitor had even had to speak Terran for a prolonged period. It wasn’t, he imagined, likely to be a language frequently used in the refineries of Kunhri. “Welcome aboard the Temeraire. If you have any problems or queries whilst here, please don’t hesitate to contact me,” Gor said in a professional tone. He knew he had no right to distrust the man, but at the same time, he had done nothing to earn his trust either.

“I’m sorry you’ve been kept relatively restricted,” the Captain began as she pulled out a chair at the table, and offered their guest one at the side opposite the XO, “we’ve not yet told the majority of our crew about our mission, so for them to see a Reman wandering the halls would, perhaps, cause an incident we would regret. That is in no one’s interests,” she advised the Reman as she got comfortable in her chair. She, perhaps, wasn’t as against their guest’s presence as some of the other crew would be, but she certainly understood their likely positions on the matter.

“Compared to what my people have suffered on Kunhri, this is relative paradise,” Kasik replied flatly as he took the offered seat. He’d been in the refineries on his homeplanet for many a year, with his first trip offworld the one that had taken him to Starbase 23. Now, he was on his way home again, but not in shackles. No, he was a free man. “I hope that, in time, we will earn your trust, Captain, and you will see that we can be reasonable people,” he told, the most emphatic that he had been so far.

“Well,” the Captain paused for a minute as she contemplated the Reman’s words, “I’m sure we need to earn the trust of the Reman people as well, and that can begin here, today, with our frank and open discussions,” she smiled as she looked across at the XO for backup.

“Indeed. These are the moments that will help us forge a new path together as allies,” the Tellarite tried his best to reassure their guest, despite his own misgivings. “We’ve been tasked with doing our utmost to assist you, and your people, in forging a new path forward together. It is our intention to help in every way possible.”

“And we thank you for your help, Commander. I know that our peoples have not always seen eye to eye,” the bald-headed brute began through his malformed teeth and gravelly voice, “but we know that we cannot decide our own destiny without the help of Starfleet. If we try, the Romulans will be back. It’s only a matter of time.”

Tharia actually felt sorry for the man, who looked utterly forlorn at the prospect of the Romulans returning to his world. She had always had the benefit of freedom which the Federation so happily provided, so she couldn’t even try to understand how it must have felt for Kasik. She could only do her best to ensure he understood their mission, and their goals.

“I can assure you, Kasik, that our task group will not leave Kunhri until your planet is safe, secure and on that path you so very much deserve,” the Andorian smiled, her antennae dipping in respect as she sat forward and activated the holoprojector in the middle. “As per our remit after discussions between Starfleet and the provisional government on Psi Velorum, a number of Starfleet vessels will arrive in your system over the course of the next few days, with ourselves and Neptune arriving first. It will be our job to secure the system and provide defence during the relief efforts. We’ve drafted plans for a tachyon detection grid to be placed at the outer edge of the Kunhri system, which Starfleet will resource, install and teach your people to run. This system will detect the presence of any cloaked vessels trying to reach the planets in your system, and will act as an early warning mechanism,” the Andorian revealed as she tapped at her controls.

In the center of the table, the projection changed to show dozens of sensor relays placed around the system and the net they would project. Resembling something akin to the work of the Enterprise-D during the Klingon civil war, the net would ensure that anything entering the system under cloak would (at least in theory) be detected. The fact that it consisted entirely of satellites meant it was stationary, and not relying on starships that would potentially be called away at a moments notice, leaving a hole in the net.

“If we tie it into your planet’s defence grid, there is no reason why planetary defences couldn’t be activated immediately upon the detection of any such vessel,” Gor told, sitting forward himself, “and that would allow you to defend yourself far easier than anything else we can offer you. Not to mention, it would prevent your defences having to be online for any extended period without reason, thus not wasting any of your energy stores.”

Kasik smiled the toothiest grin he could. “I understand you have been given permission to assist with the production of other planetary defences, such as orbital weapons platforms? Can these be tied into the same system?” he enquired with the utmost curiosity.

“We’re not going to provide Starfleet weapons, but the government on Psi Velorum have assured us that they have managed to secure a number of orbital platforms and shield grids which should be on their way to your world,” Tharia nodded in confirmation, “Our engineers will assist your people to install and maintain these, too. In short, we will not leave Kunhri until I am satisfied that your planet, and your people, are safe from any threat that may come your way.”

Kasik nodded enthusiastically. “We appreciate your efforts, Captain. But what about our other needs? The refineries? The food?” he asked, eager for word that help would be coming in that form too.

“Different vessels from the task group will be there to assist in every way we can. I believe that the starship Dvorak will be tasked with supporting the populace with food production, whilst the Thyanis and Daradax will be working to assist your teams on getting the refineries working again. It will be the job of Temeraire and Neptune to ensure your planet is secure, and your people know how to defend it,” Tharia concluded as she deactivated the holoprojector, sitting back in her chair and regarding the Reman once again. “With the presence of so many Starfleet vessels, I don’t believe you’ll have anything to worry about from a Romulan perspective. My greatest concern is the growing number of protests across the system,” Tharia remarked, reaching forward to activate the main viewer. The same news stories that had blitzed the screen filled it once more as Kasik’s attention was drawn to it.

“Hhakh veruuls,” he cursed in his home language, causing the two officers to glance at him uncomfortably. His stance, his whole demeanour had changed with the visuals on display. Shaking, he waved a pointed finger in the direction of the screen. “Those… those… those fools… they are a minority who can’t see the benefit Starfleet’s help will bring to our people,” he fumed, “but they offer no alternatives! They would rather see our people in the gutter than accept your help.”

What was a brief feeling of concern swiftly changed to one of sadness. She could see that the Reman was hurting, that he was desperate for the plight of his people to be over, and these protests were clearly getting in the way of such an endeavour. “Until we feel there is any risk to Starfleet personnel, I am happy to continue as planned,” she advised their guest, “but the minute I feel that there is any danger to my people, or those of the other starships, I will, reluctantly, have no choice but to pull our forces out,” Tharia told him, deactivating the screen to hopefully defuse the tension somewhat.

“Even so,” the Tellarite Commander interjected as he looked between sh’Elas and their visitor, “this is an agreement put in place to ensure that the stepping stones for such endeavours are created,” he reminded them both. “We’ll do everything in our power to assist your people, Kasik.”

Standing from her seat, signalling her desire to call the meeting to a close, the Andorian offered a hand to their guest. “Glad to have you with us, Kasik. Commander Gor will assist you in getting settled. Should you need anything, please let him know,” she told with a smile. “And I do sincerely hope we can provide the support your people need,” she added.

Taking the offered hand, Kasik gave only a loose gripped handshake. “I hope my time aboard your ship is highly productive. I do believe our cultures can find common ground, even if there are certain issues to overcome,” he said with a polite smile before releasing the hand of the captain. “Though for now I require nothing more than quarters, and access to one of your replicators. I have heard much of the unique dishes those in your Federation enjoy. It would be a crime not to indulge just once, wouldn’t it?” he asked, a toothy grin signalling the happiness he felt at the idea of finally trying some Federation cuisine.

“I’m sure that can be arranged for you, Kasik. Let’s go and see what we can do,” the stout Tellarite said in a polite manner, holding out a hand and gesturing for the entrance to the bridge.

Tharia followed close behind and watched with interest as the Commander and their Reman guest exited the observation lounge together, deep in conversation. Once they entered the bridge, the Andorian stopped just a few feet from the doorway and watched the XO lead their guest (and the security entourage) to the aft turbo lift. Once the doors closed, the Captain smiled and turned back to her chair, only to be greeted by a sea of confused, anxious faces.

Stopped dead in her tracks, the blue-skinned, white-haired commander of the ship inhaled deeply and puffed out her chest. “I guess you all saw that then?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest, and stating the plainly obvious.

“Uh-huh,” Akaria remarked, wide-eyed and more than a little confused.

Taking over from the Risian, the Captain stood in front of her command chair and addressed the elephant in the room. “Mister Kasik is a guest on our vessel, and an unofficial observer from the new government on Kunhri III. He’ll be with us whilst we work on securing the system,” she advised them, before her tone dropped and became even more serious (if that was at all possible). “I want you all to make sure your people know to extend him every courtesy whilst he is here. His people need our help, and we’re going to give it to them,” she concluded, slipping effortlessly into the comfort of her command chair and focusing on the stars streaming past them on the viewscreen, rather than the muted reaction from her people.

She couldn’t blame them for being curious about the sudden appearance of a Reman on their ship, she’d had her own reservations when she had been told that he would beam aboard at Starbase 23, but she sure as hell would blame them if he was made to feel anything less than welcome. She had been tasked with not only assisting the locals, but winning over the hearts and minds of the dissenters, which was never going to happen if the first person they came across was made to feel like the Federation was anything but willing to help.

The success of their mission would depend on people like Kasik, and depend on him she would.

A brilliant flash of light preceded the appearance of the sleek starship Temeraire as it dropped out of warp on the far edge of the Kunhri system at long last. Advancing at one quarter impulse power, the Starfleet heavy cruiser seemed to steady itself before using its engines to thrust forth, onwards to the location that the crew had travelled there to visit. Kunhri III lay just a few million kilometers away, but this was not a distance the Temeraire was going to close quickly. Her approach, cautious and methodical as it was, echoed the traits her commanding officer exhibited at the present moment.

For right now, at the heart of the starship’s command center, Tharia sh’Elas sat motionless, hands clasped to the armrests of the command chair. Silence had long since engulfed the bridge, only broken temporarily by the beeps, whirrs and pulses of the various computer consoles and lights around the bridge. In fact, the bridge was so silent that it was quite possible one could pick any person out of the crowd and listen to their heartbeats from a distance away, should the tension levels have risen any further.

“Sensors?” Vasoch called out from behind the captain, ending the silence at least momentarily.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” the blonde, Bajoran bombshell at Tactical shook her head, her arms folded across her chest in defiance, glancing up from her readings only to answer the Tellarite’s question.

From the science station on the port bulkhead, adjacent from Lieutenant Noli’s tactical station, the Risian chief of the science division had been monitoring her own sensors, and agreed with the Bajoran. Nothing. Yet.

At the forefront of the bridge, Operations chief Mora and flyboy Mitchell exchanged concerned glances filled with anxious energy.

Everyone there present wanted only one thing; directions from their captain. Even the ever affable Counsellor, stood behind the Science chief, looked towards the captain for guidance.

“This is ridiculous,” Commander Zinn finally called out from the aft of the bridge, storming forward. “Here we are, acting like we’re waiting to be blasted into oblivion when the people out there requested our help,” he looked to Tharia while pointing towards the planet on the main viewer. “We’re supposed to be here! What are you all so bothered about?” he asked, more than a hint of incredulity in his voice.

Slowly, purposefully, and with more than a hint of menace behind her piercing brown eyes, Tharia’s head gradually turned, like something out of a horror movie. In normal situations, she would tolerate the Deltan, but this was not a ‘normal’ situation. They were, after all, several lightyears into territory that was, until recently, classified as hostile.

“Fools rush in, where angels fear to tread,” the Andorian finally piped up, turning away from the Deltan and focusing her eyes on the screen again. “By extolling caution now, we may just save ourselves some trouble in the future, and avoid the same fate as the Endeavour,” she advised the physician, yet reminding everyone around her of the precarious situation they found themselves in. They had all heard the reports earlier in the day of the Obena-class starships clash at the Agarath system. Whilst a repeat of the situation was far from likely, it was not a fate she wished on her first mission in command of her affectionately named ‘Pocket Battleship’.

“Neptune has been delayed,” Gor called out from the station he shared with Commander T’Prynn, directly behind the Captain, “and the rest of the task group are at least a day or more away. For now, we are on our own if anything goes wrong.”

“Caution is to be commended,” the Vulcan beside him concurred, “certainly if we wish to successfully forge relations with the people of Kunhri,” she added in an uncharacteristic show of support for Gor, and for the caution displayed by her Captain.

From Tactical, Noli shot the Deltan a look of pure disgust and shook her head, urging him to sit down and shut up without so much as a word.

Of all the people she had expected to cause her grief, Tharia had not expected it to be her own Chief Medical Officer. Vasoch, sure. the mouthy Akaria even. Mora, well, not him because he was as amenable as all Bolians she had ever encountered, but not Zinn. Not someone she had served with for a while, and had brought with her from the Santa Fe. She turned briefly to watch the man reluctantly take his seat, and then turned her attention to the starscape before them.

Entering the bridge from the starboard turbo lift, Lieutenant Prida Rala arrived from engineering with their Reman visitor, Kasik, in tow. She had spent the last hour of their voyage going over the proposed security net that they would create around the Kunhri system, and now she was ready to proceed with the next part of their objective. Approaching the command chair, the Bajassian addressed the Captain. “We’ve finalised our plans for the defence net, ma’am. I’d like to transfer the plans to the Neptune so they can begin preparations of their part of the net,” she requested hopefully.

“And what happens if the supplies from Psi Velorum don’t make it?” the Andorian queried, even though she felt she probably already knew the answer.

Just as Prida was about to respond, Kasik stepped forward and interjected. “The supplies will make it, Captain, I can assure you of that,” he spoke, his grasp of English getting much better with each hour he spent aboard the ship and dealt with the ship’s company.

“And if they don’t,” the engineer piped up, “we’ve made sure the system will be as useful as possible without the sentry pods.”

“And we’ve got coordinates for all of the sensor platforms?”

Prida nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve already shared the final coordinates with the CONN, tactical and science departments. In order to defend the whole system, we’ll need fifty seven platforms for minimum coverage, seventy for total, enhanced protection,” she revealed, looking between the Captain and their visitor, “we’ve got the resources and means to get forty five complete platforms, but we will need Neptune to complete the net,” she concluded.

“You should be able to link up with the systems on the planet remotely, Captain,” Kasik continued, “such are the antiquated systems the Romulans left behind.”

Tharia turned in her chair just enough to make eye contact with the Tellarite sat close behind her. His expression gave her the confirmation she needed. “Very well,” she nodded, “transfer the plans to Neptune and begin the construction process. Pull whoever you need, so long as it doesn’t interfere with other mission objectives,” the Andorian directed.

“Aye Captain,” Prida smiled, giving a thumbs up to Mister Kasik, before moving towards the aft engineering display. “With the help of Miss Speyer, we’ve managed to limit construction time to forty-eight hours with all available personnel working on it. It’ll then take an additional twelve to deploy,” she told to no one in particular, “but in seventy two hours we should have a functioning sensor net.”

With the ship inching deeper into the system, the more aware the Captain became of the fact that she had guided her people into Romulan territory and, as yet, had yet to successfully make contact with anyone of authority. If they didn’t make contact soon, she’d be forced to rethink their objectives. “Alright Mister Kasik,” she smiled, gesturing towards the forward Operations station, “you’re people are yet to respond to our efforts. I think it is time for you to let them know we are here in peace,” the Andorian suggested, perched on the edge of her seat as the tension in her voice became more obvious.

Kasik dutifully responded to the request from his gracious host and stepped towards the bald-headed Bolian at Ops. “Lieutenant,” he addressed the man in gold, “please make a connection with planetary computer system. I’ll input my code for you and that will prove to the people on the planet that we are here, together,” he grinned as genuinely as he could, looking back at the captain and then to the Bolian.

“Alright,” the Bolian began, “but I’m not sure how qui… oh!” Linn Mora struggled to hide his surprise at how easy it had been to forge a connection with the antiquated system, “We’re in.”

Stepping up to the console, the Reman spoke in his native tongue and submitted his clearance code in order to be recognised. Finally, a message back granted the crew the reprieve they needed. “We’ve been authorised to enter orbit,” Kasik told, reading the messages that came in from the planet’s surface, “and First Consul J’mek has authorised our mission to go ahead,” he concluded, turning away from Ops and looking at the Captain. “With your leave Captain, the First Consul would prefer I stay aboard and work with your people for the duration of the mission,” he told her, complete with tilted head and look of worry. What would it mean for their mission, for his people, if the captain wouldn’t let him stay longer than initially approved? She was, after all, only to ferry him home.

Thankfully, he needn’t have been concerned. Tharia visibly relaxed into her chair and her antenna pointed to the ceiling as relief set in. “We’d be more than happy for you to stay, Kasik. All we ask is you lend a hand wherever possible,” the 

Chief Engineer’s log, supplemental.

 

It’s taken a little longer than we anticipated, but with the combined efforts of the Temeraire and Neptune, I am happy to report that the tachyon detection net is on the verge of completion. With just a handful of sensor platforms left to be placed, attention will now turn to the activation phase of our mission. Whilst it will, hopefully, take mere seconds for the vessels of our task group to connect to the defence net, the trickiest part will be to get the system working with the antiquated technology on the surface. Mister Kasik has assured us that we will have any support we need when it comes to this part of the project, and has already linked us into the system on numerous occasions during the early stages of our endeavour.

 

If it works, we will have constructed the most complex cloak detection technology ever recorded.

 

If it works…

A cacophony of noise filled the bridge of the starship Temeraire as her personnel applauded the final fade away of the translucent blue transporter beam, signalling that the deployment of sensor platforms had been completed at last. Two days behind schedule (in part due to technical issues, and in part due to diplomatic issues), the hardware for the initial construction stage of the Kunhri defence net was in place and ready to be connected to the defence grid on the surface.

Lieutenant Prida, the ship’s Bajassian engineer, lowered her head and let out an enormous sigh of relief, before feeling a pat on the back.

“Congratulations Lieutenant, that was no mean feat you have accomplished,” Commander Vasoch Gor nodded approvingly to the younger woman, and offered her his brown, wrinkled hand in celebration of their efforts.

Prida, although slightly taken aback by his public show of appreciation, smiled and shook the Tellarite’s hand. “Thank you sir,” she smiled. Once they had let go of each other’s hands, the Bajassian shared a look of utter shock and confusion with her Andorian captain, before the two let out giant, all knowing grins. As always, the two were on the same wavelength with their thoughts.

For Kasik, the moment was one filled with great excitement, but also tinged with more than a hint of sorrow. To think that the freedom they so craved had come at such a price that they would be frightened for their lives, and have to rely on the Federation to help secure their world, was tough for even the most ardent of his anti-Romulan people. The price of peace had come at a high price yet again. Many felt they had traded the Romulans for the Federation. Whilst Kasik had his own opinions on his planet’s quest for freedom and self-determination, the success they were enjoying today was thanks to that peaceful alliance with the Federation.

He was already stood at the tactical station, alongside the ‘Blonde Bombshell’ he had come to realise was Lieutenant Noli Auru, liaising with the tactician on linking up the network with the planetary grid; not only would the sensor network draw power from the planet’s systems, but it would all link up and ensure the planet would remain secure.

“Establishing link up with the planet’s central computer,” Noli called out over the applause, drawing the attention of those in the room back to the task at hand. Yes, it was a momentous occasion, yes, they had helped the people of Kunhri further along their path to freedom, but there was still much to be done.

Tharia watched closely as the people around her returned to their stations. “Prida,” she addressed the engineer, “if I’m right, should the connection be established successfully, we should physically see these platforms turn on, right?” the Andorian queried as she took her seat at the heart of the bridge again.

“That’s correct ma’am,” the grey, mottle-skinned woman nodded in confirmation, stepping back towards the MSD at the back of the bridge. “Providing all goes well, we should see the actual connection process take place and the platforms become live, so to speak,” she told.

“Lieutenant Mora,” Vasoch called out from his station, anticipating where the captain was going with her line of questioning, “lock on to the nearest platform and put it on the main viewscreen.”

“On it,” the Bolian confirmed, smooth, blue-skinned hands darting across the Operations console until the view screen changed. “Sensor Platform alpha-four-three on main viewer,” he called out.

At present, the platform looked like nothing more than a piece of derelict debris just a few hundred meters from the Temeraire’s hull.  Nothing special, nothing unique about it. In fact, it looked like the kind of technology one of Starfleet’s famed engineers (you know, the ones that can turn rocks into replicators) would show up and work miracles on. Only this one was floating freely in the vacuum of space, with no engineer in sight.

Looking away from her console for the first time, a smiling Noli focused on the screen at the forefront of the bridge. “Link established.”

A buzz of anticipation filled the air as every single officer there present turned their attention towards the viewscreen. Henry Mitchell sat back in his chair at the CONN and folded his arms across his chest. A bead of sweat dripped from the brow of the ever-nervous Linn Mora. Prida stepped forward and placed her hands on the Strategic Operations console, gripping it so tightly her grey-coloured knuckles threatened to turn white. Even the captain, unflappable as she tried to present herself, perched on the edge of her seat, her own hands glued to the armrests of her chair.

Then it happened; the first signs of life. Lights flickered across the sensor platform until they remained steady. Next, four relatively small sensor palettes on arms unfurled from each side of the device, their arms becoming rigid once locked into place. Seconds later, the palettes turned forty-five degrees to give each a slight tilt away from the others. Finally, at the tip of each sensor arm, a steady, emerald light began to pulse. All the way down the network, the same process took place as each satellite powered up and connected with the defence grid on the surface. Kunhri’s tachyon detection grid had been successfully activated.

An emotional looking Kasik, unusual to look at by most people’s standards, wiped a tear from his reptilian-like cheek and wandered over to the Andorian at the heart of the bridge. “Captain,” he spoke quietly among the cheers and congratulations around the room, “I thank you on behalf of my people. You have helped us on our path to freedom that we could have only dreamed of. With this network in place, our planet is safe from Romulan attack and we are free to pursue other avenues of interest in these early stages of development,” he smiled, a heart-warming smile of thanks that left the Captain with no doubt as to his sincerity.

Rising to her feet, anyone looking at the Andorian would have been forgiven to think she may have been blushing for a slight moment, a definite reddening of her blue cheeks quite visible for the briefest of moments. “When we started on this journey together a few days ago, I promised you we would do our utmost to help your people travel this path,” Tharia relaxed her body and opened herself up as a friend to the Reman for the first time, “I follow through with my promises, Kasik. I’m thrilled to have been able to help you this far, and I’m certain there is more we can do moving forward,” and then she offered her hand to him.

Grasping it tight, and enclosing it within another, Kasik could feel the warmth in the woman’s hand and her heart, finally safe in the knowledge that she meant exactly what she said. Further proof, to him at least, that the provisional government on Psi Velorum were right to enlist the help of the Federation. Many would still think not, but that was a ‘them’ problem. His problem had been resolved, for now. “I will admit, Captain, that I thought this task impossible when you first proposed it,” the Reman told his host, “but I am delighted to be proven wrong.”

Smiling, Tharia turned back to the holographic viewscreen and gestured towards their achievement with a nod. As she moved, the collective gaze of those there present seemed to follow, as if they had collectively sensed some great piece of wisdom was to come. They were right, of course. “They call it impossible until it is done, then see it as obvious and simple. You did the impossible, child. That there is no earthly applause is expected. The heavens, however, are in raptures at the strength of your heart,” whilst the others looked at the screen, Tharia’s attention fell upon an ethereal figure stood just in front of the viewer. A ghostly apparition of sorts, but with no malice intended – it’s knowing smile proof of that. “Something my great grandfather used to say,” her smile far less of a grin now, and much more one of love and respect as the figure faded from existence and a wave of satisfaction flooded over her.

As a hushed, but content reverie took hold of the bridge, it was as if everyone had forgotten to go about their duties. A shrill beeping drew all of their attention towards the tactical station, where Noli was the first to respond. “Sensors are detecting a vessel closing in. They’ll be dropping out of warp in a matter of moments,” the Bajoran revealed, “but I’m unable to get any sort of transponder code.”

The look of worry on the woman’s face caused the Captain to slide into her command chair and signal for yellow alert.

Watching the Temeraire crew shift gears at the sounding of yellow alert, Kasik was impressed by their ability to adapt to a new, developing situation, but couldn’t shake a feeling of dread. What was the approaching vessel? Friend, or foe?

”Whatever it is, it’s big…” Lieutenant Mora frowned, his blue face wrinkling as he beavered away.

”Bring us about,“ Vasoch barked, grasping the edge of his console whilst glaring at the screen.

”Aye,” Henry retorted, fingers dancing, sending Temeraire into a near three-sixty spin on its x-axis.

”Easy everyone…“ Tharia urged, “we’re all friends out here.” She was right, of course, but that didn’t mean she had to believe it even if the words had come out of her mouth.

”Here it comes…” Mitchell exclaimed from the CONN.

Out among the stars, mere kilometers from the hull of the mighty Temeraire, a dazzling flash of light preceded the closure of the warp drive vortex and the emergence of a vessel. Large by any normal standards, the ship was a behemoth compared to the ‘pocket battleship’, dwarfing her by some eighteen decks and nearly sixty meters in height, not to mention the near one hundred and fifty extra meters in diameter she had over the Inquiry-class starship. But the most significant difference of all? She was a thing of beauty.

A symbol of elegance from an age of peaceful exploration and scientific endeavour, a presence never to be scoffed at or underestimated, and a vessel of legend. Wherever she went, stories were sure to follow. Her kin had made first contact with hundreds, if not thousands of species. Treaties had been forged between countless implacable enemies on her decks. And in the bloodiest of conflicts for many a century, with the fate of the entire Alpha Quadrant on their shoulders, she had fought without loss. Whilst age now limited her to less than forty of her kind travelling the stars, her space frame no longer under construction and the final of her scheduled major refits having concluded, she remained a posting of prestige, of desire. Captains and crew members alike would plead for a chance to serve in her hallowed halls and to sit at the heart of her bridge.

She would glide through the heavens with the poise of a princess, a symbol of all that was good in the universe, flying the flag of peace, as the former flagship of the fleet. Klingon warriors would sing songs in her honor; Cardassian cruisers would flee at the very mention of her name; Dominion attack ships had to pay the ultimate sacrifice to eliminate one of her brethren; and even the very best ships the Romulans could once call upon were no match for her prowess, even at half the size of their own famed warship.

And here she was, in all her splendour, bearing down on the protectors of Kunhri. A sight these days rarer than a Ferengi donating latinum to the Bajoran war orphans fund. A sight to behold.

A guardian of the galaxy, an angel of mercy.

A Galaxy-class starship in all of her glory.

Emerging from the blue-hued translucent transporter beam, the trademark colour of Federation technology, Tharia looked around her new surroundings with great curiosity. Anxiousness welled up inside her until she clocked her executive officer at her side, just as he had been throughout. She’d have to thank him for that later, she was sure, but for now, the latest twist in their tale required their attention.

Stood at the foot of the transporter pad in the Galaxy-class starships transporter room with her hands clasped together behind her back, an auburn haired woman in command red smiled at the two guests. “Captain sh’Elas; Commander Gor. Welcome to the Ulysses,” the woman announced in way of greeting, waving a hand towards the door, “the Commodore is waiting for us on the bridge. Shall we?”

Exchanging glances with the Tellarite next to her, Tharia ultimately conceded and, with a shrug of the shoulders, stepped down from the pad and proceeded to follow their host. “We weren’t expecting anyone else out here,” she spoke inquisitively, hoping to draw the unknown officer into divulging details to her whilst approaching the nearby turbo lift. “The Commodore. Who is he exactly?”

A smirk filled the young Terran’s face, shaking her head as they entered the lift. “I’d love to answer your questions, ma’am, but I have orders,” she told somewhat apologetically before directing the mobile room to take them to their destination at the top of the dorsal hull.

“Who are we to question orders?” Vasoch grunted, folding his arms defiantly across his chest and glaring at the youngster from behind his bushy beard. It was a tactic he employed to make even the most ardent of opponents yield in an argument, but this youngling was having none of it. Silence reigned supreme whilst the lift hurtled towards the command centre at the tip of the bridge module.

Upon its arrival at the bridge, the turbo lift doors parted and the youngster led the two guests out into the command center.

“Tharia!”

Vasoch nearly bumped into the back of his commanding officer once she stopped dead in her tracks, glaring at her until he realised that she was in a state of utter surprise. Looking across the spacious bridge towards the source of the voice, the Tellarite responded with his own confused expression when he identified the owner.

“Sebastian?” Tharia responded, head tilted, antenna pointing down and a quizzical look on her face.

“Surprised to see me out here?” the dark-skinned Terran asked, stepping towards his former executive officer and offering a hand towards her. As they shook, he elaborated somewhat. “Not as surprised as I am! I thought my days on starships were behind me thanks to my cushty job at Starfleet Tactical, but then, well…”

“Romulans happened,” Vasoch blurted out abruptly, replacing the Andorian’s with his in the grip of the Terran’s hand. “Vasoch Gor, executive officer,” he introduced himself with a nod.

“A pleasure Commander,” the gruff sounding human smiled, then gestured towards a nearby door with his head. “Let’s go somewhere a little more private shall we?” and led his guests towards the ready room at the forefront of the bridge.

Vasoch dutifully followed, but it took Tharia a moment or two to compose herself, only coming to her senses when the two men had almost disappeared from view. Jogging to catch up, she followed them into the ready room and stopped almost immediately upon crossing the threshold to the room. She’d been in many ready rooms in her time, but nothing as spacious as the one they were in now. A large desk dominated the room with several chairs surrounding it. Along one curved bulkhead, an entire row of sofa seating positioned perfectly so conversations could be held, a coffee table and a replicator gave the room a more casual feeling. She noted, however, the absence of any personal items that she had been used to seeing in Seb’s ready room aboard the Santa Fe.

“Please,” Seb smiled, gesturing to the sofas that Tharia had noted seconds earlier. He slid down onto one end of the sofa and waited as the two officers took the offered seats. “I want to apologise for the secrecy of our arrival here,” he told, a stern look on his face as he sat forward, elbows resting on his knees whilst regarding the officers.

“But the fate of your mission dictates it…”

__________________________________________________________________________________________

“Now why the hell do you suppose we’ve been dragged over to this old bucket?” Commander Zinn frowned, arms folded as he paced behind one row of seats around the observation lounge table of the Ulysses.

“Old bucket?!” Henry Mitchell echoed incredulously, pausing his exploration of the massive room long enough to look at the Chief Medical Officer in disgust. “This is a Galaxy-class starship,” the youngster countered effusively, “she’s a thing of legend! Do you know how long it takes to get on a waiting list for a posting aboard one of these beauties, let alone how long you actually spend on the list waiting?” the flyboy asked of the far more senior officer.

“I’ve never even seen one until today and I’ve been in the fleet for the best part of twenty years,” Linn Mora chimed in. Although much older than his flight operations counterpart, the Bolian still felt a sense of wonderment and awe as he joined the young man in exploring every inch of the older vessel.

“Look,” the Deltan in science blue sighed, “I don’t see what all the hoo-hah is about. It’s just a slightly bigger version of the Santa Fe is all, and I was happy to get off that rustbucket too,” he revealed as he pulled out a chair and plummeted into it.

“Thank the Prophets we don’t all share your outlook on things, Zinn,” the Blonde Bombshell Noli Auru shot back, spinning playfully in the chair at the head of the table. “Honestly, didn’t your parents ever tell you that ‘if you have nothing good to say, don’t say anything at all?‘ Everything’s always so bleak with you,” she chided the far higher ranked officer, without so much as an ounce of consideration for the fact that she was probably crossing the line somewhat.

Linn and Henry exchanged amazed glances with one another upon hearing the words of the Bajoran tactician and, even though he doubted it was even possible, the flyboy felt himself fall even further in love with the wrinkle-nosed hottie. Not that she had even noticed him. His love would forever remain unrequited, he feared.

Laughing from further down the table, their Risian counterpart from the science team shook her head slowly. “That told you, Commander…” Okan smirked.

Aft of the room, a set of doors peeled open and an excited Prida Rala bounded into the observation lounge flourishing a data PADD. “Frak me! This beauty might be old, but they’ve done so much work on her,” she exploded enthusiastically as she sidled up to the table, piquing the curiosity of everyone in the room. Except the stubborn Deltan, of course. “She’s got fourteen type twelve phaser arrays, including two additional nacelle phaser arrays first featured on the USS Venture,” she grinned, placing the PADD on the table for all to see. “She’s got quantum torpedoes, bioneural circuitry, shipwide holo emitters, and one of the largest, most powerful warp cores in the Federation!”

“And she’s ours.”

In a movement of choreography that would have won the team gold at the Federation Olympics later in the year, the staff looked towards the voice in unison, spotting the Captain and executive staring in their direction.

Ever so slightly amused by the sight of the gathering, huddled around a small data PADD, the Andorian headed for the table, a cue for the others to make their way to seats around. “Thank you all for making it here so promptly,” the Andorian smiled as she pulled out the chair previously occupied by Noli and slipped into it. She immediately noted its comfort compared to those aboard the Temeraire. “I’m going to keep this brief. Commodore Farrell needs some people he can trust for a diplomatic mission further in to Romulan territory,” she revealed, turning briefly to the wall mounted display.

“So, naturally, he called us,” Zinn smiled, a first sign of positivity in some time.

“Naturally,” Tharia looked at the Deltan briefly then back to the screen. “The government on Kunhri had been scheduled to receive a shipment of supplies, including some defence platforms. Unfortunately, the convoy has been halted in the Opra system, with forces loyal to the Romulan Navy preventing the convoy from going anywhere. We’re to take the Ulysses to Opra and negotiate for the convoy’s release,” she advised them, turning away from the screen and looking back towards her people.

“And why couldn’t we do this on the Temeraire?” Akaria chimed in, the Risian looking down the table towards the commanding officer.

“Ulysses is bigger, well armed, and more importantly, she is a symbol of diplomacy, not of war. As we all know, Temeraire is a miniature battleship, and it is feared she could be construed as too aggressive a sign for diplomatic negotiations,” Vasoch spoke up, sharing what he felt he could from the meeting they had held with the Commodore.

“As her tactical officer, I can certainly attest to that,” Noli nodded, hands clasped either side of her chair and swinging ever so slightly from side to side. “I do question the logic of sending a Galaxy-class starship so deep into Romulan territory, though. If anything happens, we’ll be on our own aboard a ship much larger, much less maneuverable,” the Bajoran warned the table.

“But it is felt a Galaxy will be a far better deterrent than the Inquiry,” Tharia intervened this time, “Romulans know the class and its capabilities well. They know that for years the ship was a flagship of Starfleet. More importantly, unlike many of the D’Deridex warbirds that have been shifted to border patrols and menial duties, the Galaxy remains a competent ship of the line, carrying out crucial missions across the Federation,” the Captain continued, clasping her hands together on the table top. “And should any issues arise, then Commander T’Prynn and the Temeraire will be on hand to warp in and save the day.,” she concluded with a grin.

“This mission could take days, or even weeks,” Vasoch revealed, “so we’ve been given one hour from the conclusion of this briefing to gather our belongings and set a course for Opra. Commander T’Prynn has a list of additional personnel and supplies we’ll be taking with us to augment what we already have on Ulysses. Any questions?” the Tellarite asked, looking around the table in turn. Not a single voice was heard, not a single hand raised.

“Then I think we are ready, Captain,” he concluded, looking to the blue woman at the head of the table.

Rising to her feet, the Captain addressed the staff one last time. “Very well. I expect you all to report to the bridge in one hour. There will be plenty of time for pleasantries with your new people in the time it will take to get to Opra, so don’t worry about that.” Get to it.”

Zinn had been packing his belongings for approximately thirty-four minutes, and of those thirty-four minutes, he begrudged… all thirty-four of them to be fair. He, unlike his comrades, was not remotely enthused at the prospect of serving on the old rustbucket they had been summoned to, even if only temporarily.

Even now, as he strode purposefully down the corridor, his face a stoic mask hiding his seething annoyance, he contemplated just how often the universe tended to conspire against the best laid plans of mice and men, and then had to suppress a smile as he realized just how very old that tiny bit of literary observation was, and just how very much he’d gotten from his wife in regards to ancient Earth literature. The woman was light years away, and they saw each other in person at most once or twice every couple of years, but still, she was able to get stuff stuck in the Deltan’s head.In his hand was the compact grey holo-platform for a game. It was a silly thing, really, but important to him. Since he’d packed what little belongings he had, he had decided to have a large cup of coffee, extra sweet, double cream, probably more cream and sugar than coffee if he was completely honest, and play a few games of Scarlette’s favorite game. It wasn’t until he sat down at the table to enjoy the coffee and boot up the antiquated piece of machinery, that he realized something was terribly wrong.

He’d pressed all the right buttons, and he’d even checked to make sure it was connected to the ship’s wireless connection, but still, it wouldn’t load the upload menu that would ensure his game progress was saved to the game servers. It seemed that sometime in the last few months, during the few moves he’d made, something in the file system had been corrupted and was not activating the software that would allow the up-link. He could play it just fine without that, but they’d both agreed never to do that. It was just one of those little things they did to keep themselves feeling connected, even when they were sometimes months apart at maximum warp. So, he’d finished his coffee, sitting in stony silence, illogically glaring at the offending piece of technology, and wondering if he could design a way to make it feel pain. Finally, after he’d drained the last of the drink, he sighed, and picked up the game, heading out into the corridors of the ship to find the one person he felt would be able to help him the most.

Walking into engineering, sleeves rolled up and bald head shining uncharacteristically bright in the lights of the room, he looked around, taking note of the few people he could see working, and then, headed for the Chief’s office. Approaching the open doorway, he rapped his knuckles firmly against the duranium frame. “Lieutenant Prida, might I trouble you for a few minutes?” he asked, his deep voice as toneless and inflection-less as it usually was.

Prida had spent approximately ten minutes packing her belongings upon her return to the Temeraire, and then hightailed it back to engineering to take care of a few things before she left for the Ulysses. She’d run through some orders for her staff, leaving a raft of instructions for various sub-departments, and guides for how to monitor and adapt the sensor platforms in order to keep the tachyon grid working at its peak. She was in the middle of recording her last duty log when the sound of knocking drew her attention away.

”Of course Commander, come in please,” she waved him into the office, “Please excuse the mess, I’m arranging some things before we leave.”

Zinn gave her a slight smile, a concession to the fact that it was his first time meeting her one on one, and he’d been told countless times over the years that people truly reacted better if one tried to start off more warm than his usual. Glancing around, he noticed that what she considered a mess wasn’t honestly all that bad. “Not at all,” he replied. “And please, call me Zinn. I’m not on duty, so rank is really not necessary. I actually came to ask you for a personal favor. I hope you don’t mind?” he added.

”Of course not… Zinn,” the Bajassian replied, running a hand through her black hair, pausing with mild trepidation about using his first name. “What can I help you with?”

Holding up the rectangular holo-platform he tilted his head towards it. “I went to sign on to the game server a few hours ago, hoping to play one of the games my wife and I both enjoy playing from time to time, and it wouldn’t connect to the wireless connection. It will play offline, but it won’t let me connect so my information will be available if she wants to play a match to try to beat me…” he said, suddenly feeling silly about the whole thing.

‘Well, that was unexpected,’ Prida thought, but thankfully her facial expressions failed to relay the feelings inside. Thank the Prophets Zinn wasn’t a Betazoid. “That’s really sweet,” Prida commented, taking the console with a smile. “What do you both play…if you don’t mind me asking?” she was gentle with the machine, observing the main screen, her eyes intent on exploring the inner workings of the software.

”Mostly logic games, a few different forms of chess, one of them we actually have going in real time. It saves our moves and we have been playing it for about two years now. I think I’ll have her in check sometime in the next few months,” Zinn replied, watching the woman tinker with the device.

“In that case,” Prida replied, pulling a PADD from the lower drawer of her desk, “I am going to back up these files before I go any further.” She found his explanation endearing and sentimental. And totally unexpected from a man who seemed so distant, and so anti… well, anti-everything of late. Something she should have thought about long ago for her family. “What a great way to keep in touch with loved ones,” she added, cloning the existing system and datafiles, transferring them to the PADD.

”It was all her idea,” Zinn responded as stoically as usual, “but it works for us.” The Commander watched for a few seconds before nodding to the woman. “I should visit sickbay before beaming back to Ulysses, so I will leave the game with you, if that is acceptable, Lieutenant?”

”YeaH, sure thing,” she replied focused on the console in her hands. “I’ll make sure it gets returned to you as soon as I can.”

She watched as the Deltan left the Engineering bay, and thought about checking in, after her duty shift was complete, on the the games her cousins might be playing. It certainly seemed like a great way to stay connected to the clan. She exited her office, console in hand, tapping it against her free hand. She would take the device with her to the Ulysses, as something to do in her spare time if nothing else.

Taking one last look around the engineering bay, she tapped her hand on the pool table and headed for the door. A new engineering bay awaited just a few thousand meters and a transporter beam away.

______________________________________________________________________________

“Oi, remember where your elbow is,” Akaria scolded gently, then gave a count to 4 to resume the lesson. They may have been bound for a new ship, but Noli still wanted to ensure that Marley continued to practice his cello; she had made a holo-device to create a travel-light cello they could take along whenever they moved around, and Marley was seated in a chair with the cello now, with his mother playing accompaniment on her violin. With the count, a mellow tune began to spill from the large body of the cello, with the violin joining soon after. Noli smiled when she heard the clean, clear notes resonating together, an improvement to the boy’s earlier slip ups.

On the nearby sofa and watching with great interest and a massive smile, Matheus Ren couldn’t help but beam with pride at his son. It was the first time that the he had heard his son play the giant instrument in quite some time, and he was massively impressed, especially with the improvement he had made.

Then of course, there was Akaria. He knew she played but he had forgotten what wonderful tunes she could tease out of the instru… wait a minute. What was that? Had he… Yes! He’d caught himself looking at her in a way that he hadn’t for a while. Judging by the fact that she hadn’t changed her facial expression one iota, she clearly hadn’t seen him. But he had definitely caught himself looking at her in that way… the way that always spelt danger for ex-partners. Perhaps it was the thought of just being together, as a family, with no work and no commbadges. Maybe, just maybe, there was hope for them yet? As the smile returned to his face, he slowly swayed to the sound of the beautiful music.

After another pause as Akaria gave some instruction to Marley, the music began again, this time from the beginning so ‘Junior’ could play the piece straight through without any help. Akaria hadn’t caught the gaze Matheus had given her, but Marley had, and he grinned as he worked through the tune, doing his level best to hide his smugness as he focused on the music. He wouldn’t get to the end of the piece as the door chimed.

“I’ll get it,” Akaria offered, since she was already on her feet. “Take a break, we’ll finish in a bit,” she said to Marley as she strode over to the door and opened it.

Once the doors parted, the Risian was faced with the busy-beard, wrinkle-faced Tellarite executive of the Ulysses. “Sorry to bother you both, but we need to talk…” he told in his stern, gravelly tone.

“Who’s we? You and me? Matheus, you and me? Or just you and Matheus?” she enquired quizzically as she stepped aside and allowed the short, hairy man inside.

“All three of us,” Vasoch replied.

“Oh…” Akaria said as her expression fell; she had a feeling she knew what this was about, but she said nothing, not until she heard the bad news for herself. She stepped aside with a gesture of her hand to invite the XO to take a seat, then went to the dining table to set her violin back into its case. “Marley, we’ll pick this up as soon as we can,” she said to her son, with Marley knowing this was code for ‘Go to your room so the adults can talk’, so he shut off the holo-emitter and pocketed the small device, then went off to his bunk.

Vasoch took the offered seat across from the two Lieutenant’s now and watched as the boy dutifully, yet begrudgingly, left the room. “There’s no easy way to say this, but Captain sh’Elas has rejected your joining the Ulysses for this mission, Matheus. You and your son are to stay on Temeraire,” the Tellarite revealed, much to their collective chagrin.

“We’ve only just got the family back together…” Akaria said before Vasoch could go into any further detail. “Dammit!” she exclaimed, then sighed. “Sorry, not mad, I’m not mad,” she said, trying to convince herself more than convince them, with such attempts only resulting in one of the dining chairs being kicked away from the table. “Ok, I’m mad, but not at anyone in this room.”

“She does realise how long we’ve waited to get a posting together, right? How much of a struggle it’s been to bring the boy up,” Ren leant forward, elbows on his knees as he addressed the Tellarite. “You know how much we fought for this,” he reminded the Tellarite.

“I have made her aware of this, but ultimately, it is her decision,” the XO retorted calmly, “She has no choice with the civilians on the Ulysses already, but she is unwilling to put anyone else in harm’s way, and I can’t say I blame her,” the Tellarite told honestly, and fairly. “We’re going deeper into Romulan territory, at great risk to ourselves. It isn’t the place for a boy.”

Akaria sat on the edge of the table. “So, she’s happy to take a mother from her son, again?”

Sensing that the conversation was not going to get any better, the XO rose to his feet. “Command wants you. She’s doing what she thinks is best for all parties,” he told the Science Chief. “I’ll see you on the Ulysses in thirty minutes, Lieutenant,” he then nodded towards the man on the sofa. “See you when we get back, Matheus.”

Both Science division officers watched the stout man depart, and then exchanged glances once alone. “Look,” Matheus said as he rose to his feet and wandered over to the woman, “It’s only until Starfleet decide you guys aren’t needed anymore.”

“Yeah, but how long until we’re ‘not needed’, or until we can get back to our vacation plans? We were supposed to be arranging some time for the three of us to bond again,” Akaria pointed out, eyes now trained on the room her son was in.

“As soon as the situation has been resolved, we’ll head straight for Risa. I’ll even get us passage on another ship that won’t be anywhere near a Starfleet mission,” Ren told as he returned to the sofa. “You never know, this bunch might be so competent they don’t need you for anything other than a briefing,” he smirked with a shrug of his shoulders.

With a grin, Akaria folded her arms across her chest. “I hope so, because I was promised tropical drinks and deep tissue massages on the beach and I intend to collect, even if that means finding a nice piece of eye-candy to drag to the holodeck.

“I’ll ask the XO for you,” Ren grinned, lifting his feet up onto the sofa and getting relaxed.

“Not my style, but in a pinch he’ll do,” Akaria said with a chuckle, before heading off in the direction of Marley’s bedroom. 

Akaria entered Marley’s room to find him lying on his bunk, playing a hand-held game. Around his wrists were a pair of wristbands, a suggestion from the Counsellor to make him more aware of when he was scratching his wrists, and peeking from under those wristbands were signs of fresh irritation.

“You’re scratching again?” she observed with concern as she sat down on the edge of the bunk.

“I stopped before I scratched too bad,” Marley said with a shrug. The bands around his wrists did make him self conscious, but it was working for the most part. “Something happened, didn’t it?” he asked in return.

“Yeah…” Akaria admitted reluctantly. “Captain sh’Elas needs me for a mission, but you and your father are to stay here. While I’m gone, he will find a transport to take us to Risa. Our plans ain’t changed, they’re just delayed a little,” she tried to assure her son.

“If you say so…” Marley replied with a heavy sigh, his attention thus far remaining on his game.

“Look, I know it sucks,” Akaria said in an attempt to relate to what he was going through. “My parents were both Officers, so I know what it’s like to have them choose work over me. Now, I think we’ve done a pretty decent job of balancing our time between work and spending time with you, but we’re both important people. It’s nobody’s fault.”

“I know,” Marley said, finally lowering his game to look at his mother. “Just really, really sucks…”

“It’s okay to be disappointed, I am too, just try to give us some slack, ok? We’re both doing the best we can and I know he’ll make it up to you as much as I will,” Akaria tried to assure him. “And until then, there’s no reason you two can’t have some fun. Why don’t you both go down to the holodeck and you can show him that game you’ve been wanting me to play, the one with the zombies and the magic bees?” she suggested.

“Really?” That had Marley’s attention, although he pretended to contemplate the offer seriously. “I guess I could be convinced to show him,” he said with false disinterest, causing Akaria to chuckle.

“Would an ice cream float afterwards help seal the deal?” the Risian asked. Again, Marley made a show of considering the offer before finally nodding.

“I accept these terms,” the youngster said with a grin, then hopped up to go find the program amongst all the other games he had collected. Akaria smiled at his resilience, she just hoped that there wouldn’t be too many delays to their plans to test that resilience further.

Now all she had to do was tell her ex that he owed their son an ice cream float and some holodeck time. That was going to be an interesting conversation.

Tactical Officer’s log, supplemental.

 

Ulysses has arrived in the Opra system slightly ahead of schedule, which has apparently caused jitters among the population of the planet as we have been ‘escorted’ to a holding pattern above the planet’s fifth continent. We’ve been here for nearly sixteen hours, yet we’ve had no official communication with the planet, or our diplomatic representatives. Only Mister Kasik, who has accompanied us from Kunhri, has been permitted to converse with the planet, and in doing so, he has been permitted to lead a three man away team to the surface at a confidential set of co-ordinates. Against my better judgement, the Captain and our first officer have joined him. Mister Mora has been tasked with maintaining a transporter lock and, given our tactical situation, I have been placed in acting command of the Ulysses.

 

Whilst we wait for word from our away team, I have used the opportunity to take in some of the ship. To many, the Galaxy was the pinnacle of starship design, the perfect blend of mission parameters in one space frame. Even now, some decades after her construction, the Ulysses stands the test of time and performs admirably. I’ve never stepped aboard her, or a member of her class, before, yet something feels… familiar. Perhaps our time on the Santa Fe has prepared us for our service here? It’s like we all know exactly where everything is, how it works, and even where the light switches are.

 

Dare I say she even feels like… home?

It would be more than possible for the proverbial pin drop to be heard on the bridge of the Ulysses as the crew awaited news from their visitor or the planet’s surface. Their wait had allowed the crew that had joined from the Temeraire to get used to the ship’s systems. Whilst that had been useful, most of the crew would admit to wanting the situation resolved as quickly as possible. They were already uncomfortably deep into Romulan space, but throw in the fact that they were incommunicado with their allies, the crew were desperate to move on.

Everyone watched and waited with bated breath. To have their Captain and the XO off the ship for any duration mid-mission was disconcerting at the best of times, but to be without them so deep into Romulan territory had upped the tension levels significantly. Especially for Lieutenant Noli who had, for the first time, been left in command of the ship in the absence of the command team. Whilst Mora, Okan and even Zinn were more senior in rank, the situation the crew found themselves in warranted a different approach. Or so the XO thought, anyway.

She was in the midst of typing her first duty log as acting commanding officer, talking about the similarities between their beautiful new behemoth and their older contemporary, the Santa Fe, when a voice from the front of the bridge drew her attention.

“Errrr… Lieutenant?” Henry Mitchell called out somewhat anxiously from the CONN, turning in his seat ever so slightly to look towards the Blonde Bombshell who was now commanding the great Galaxy-class ship. “Are you seeing this?”

Looking up from her data PADD, the other bridge crew there present joining her, she instantly saw the commotion that had drawn the young helmsman’s attention to the main viewer. A collection of Romulan freighters, the very same ones they had come to escort to Kunhri, were on the move. And they weren’t just moving in any particular manner. No, they were coordinated and moving into formation.

“We’re receiving a transmission,” the Bolian at Ops called out, almost instantly placing a familiar figure on the screen.

“Captain,” Noli smiled, a wave of relief flooding over her at the first glimpse of the Captain in some time.

“Lieutenant Noli,” the Captain grinned in return, “we’ve had a breakthrough in the negotiations. Move the Ulysses to the center of the convoy and take the ship to yellow alert. You’ll be limited to warp three due to the engines on the transports. We’ll be beaming aboard before you move out of transporter range, but we’ve a few loose ends to tie up here first,” the Andorian instructed. 

Noli looked down at the CONN and gave a nod to the Lieutenant, granting him permission to commence the operation as directed by the Captain. “Are you sure you can’t tie up your loose ends from aboard ship, Captain?” the Bajoran asked, her attention back on the blue-skinned commander of the Ulysses. “We’d all feel much better with you and the XO back aboard.”

Tharia shook her head on the view screen. “No, Lieutenant. Part of these negotiations rely on us being here. We’ll be in touch when the time is right. sh’Elas out.”

With the viewscreen having faded to reflect the starscape beyond the ship’s hull, the convoy taking the place of the Captain’s face, the Bajoran slumped into the command chair. They were finally commencing their operation, negotiations seemingly having been successful, but the Lieutenant couldn’t shake a growing feeling of unease.

[Convoy on approach to Velorum Nebula -ETA 4 Hours]

“Ulysses remains on station at the heart of the convoy, some two hours after our mission commenced. Lieutenant Noli and I have been working on adapting a variation of the tachyon sensor platforms in the hopes of assisting in detection of cloaked vessels.”

Sitting at the head of the table in the briefing room, Captain sh’Elas listened to the report from her Operations Chief, and nodded along in all the right places until the Bolian concluded. “How is that going?” she queried of the two gold uniformed officers.

“We’re facing the real prospect of getting there,” Noli nodded, sitting forward at the table to draw the attention to her, hands clasped together on the surface, “we won’t have a clue if it actually works until we detect a vessel of course, but if we don’t we’re in no worse shape than we are presently,” she shrugged, then sat back in her chair.

“Lieutenant Mitchell?”

Henry nodded and rose to his feet, making his way to the wall mounted display, the eyes of everyone present trained on his slender, Terran frame. He reached out and activated the screen. “We’re roughly four hours from the Velorum Nebula. Part of the negotiations centered on the security of the convoy due to its restricted speed. As such, the representatives on Opra decreed that we must escort the convoy through the Nebula as it provides the best hiding places, and the least likely place of attack by hostile forces,” he drew their attention to the nebula by expanding the image and the internal structure of the nebula. “Traversing the Nebula will be easy for the convoy due to their maneuverability at sublight speeds. We, however, will find this quite a bumpy ride.”

He began walking towards the table again whilst Lieutenant Okan continued the briefing. “We’ll need to draw reserve power to the shields and structural integrity field throughout, but the biggest issue will be sensors. They’ll be limited to less than ten thousand meters in all directions until we clear the nebula,” the Risian told her crewmates.

“Which means, even if we can detect cloaked vessels, it will be at very limited range,” Commander Gor stated, as more of a question than anything else.

“Basically, not until it is too late,” Noli shrugged looking at Linn Mora in a muted form of frustration at, what seemed to be, a wasted endeavour.

Never one to miss a cue from one of her staff, let alone one she had known for sometime, the Captain quickly chipped in to assuage the tactician’s concerns. “Any advantage is a positive,” Tharia reminded her, “no matter how slim. Tell them why, Akaria,” the Captain turned her focus back to the science officer.

“For the duration of the journey through the nebula, we’ll have no communications with anything outside the ship,” the scientist told the senior staff, to a chorus of groans and resignation. “Now, therein lies the problem. We need a means of communicating if anyone has any ideas?”

[Convoy on approach to Velorum Nebula -ETA 2 Hours]

“Captain! We’ve got an idea,” Lieutenant Okan grinned, waving a data PADD as she approached the desk in the ready room, where the Andorian was sat writing her up to date duty log. Accompanied by her companion from Ops, the two Lieutenant’s had done some research and come up with an idea that would solve their communication issues with the rest of the convoy.

“Alright, let’s hear it?” Tharia relaxed as she sat back in her chair, her antenna dipping, preparing to hear the latest scientific marvel that her people could come up with. She gestured to the chairs opposite her desk and gave them her full attention.

“It’s an old code, but the idea checks out,” Akaria started, pulling out one of the chairs and taking a seat. “Essentially, we’re using an updated version of something called morse code, or signal lamps. Using line of sight, tight beam communications, we’ll use a small set of universally accepted codes to pass messages to each ship. We’ll have to have an officer dedicated to keeping watch, but its a system that can be adapted on all of the ships in the short amount of time we have,” Okan revealed, sliding a data PADD across the desk to the Andorian.

“Tried and tested methods of the past,” Tharia smirked, “they never let us down.”

“With your permission, we can get the plans passed around the convoy ASAP and make the modifications we need here,” Linn Mora told hopefully, looking to his commanding officer with a smile and raised eyebrows of optimism.

“You’re sure this won’t let us down inside the nebula?” the Captain queried of her team.

“As sure as we can be, but you can never be one hundred percent in a situation like this,” Akaria shrugged, “until we try, we won’t know.”

Without so much as a glance at the data, the Captain slid it back across the table. She believed in her people, and their plans, and would trust them to solve her problem.

“Do it,” she nodded in acknowledgement of their idea, dismissing them in the process.

Rising from their seats in silence, the two Lieutenant’s shared a look of congratulations and swiftly exited the ready room in order to put their plan into place. With less than two hours left until they reached the nebula, they would need to act quickly.

[Convoy about to enter Velorum Nebula -ETA 5 Minutes]

Accompanied by the trademark ‘swish’ of the ready room door, Captain sh’Elas appeared on the bridge for the first time in a number of hours, and instantly made a beeline for her command chair, where Commander Gor had gotten more than a little comfy. Rising to his feet, the diminutive Tellarite ceded command back to the Andorian and began his report.

“We’re on final approach to the nebula, Captain. All ships have dropped from warp and are at full impulse,” he reported, gruff voice relaying the status of the convoy.

Nodding graciously to the XO, and then nodding in greeting to the Counsellor sat in the third chair of the command ‘pit’ as she referred to it, Tharia slipped effortlessly into her command chair. “Where are we at with the modifications for communications?” she pondered, looking first at Mora, then across to the port side bulkhead and the science officer sat there.

“All modifications are complete,” Akaria confirmed with a nod, “we’ve completed some test messages between all vessels, and we stand ready. Ensign Valesa will be monitoring communications closely,” the Risian concluded, much to the satisfaction, and appreciation of the commanding officer, who now turned her attention to the forward stations again.

“Lieutenant Mitchell?”

“Yes?” the helmsman answered somewhat absentmindedly before quickly realising what he had said, and what the Captain was asking of him. Spinning in his chair, he gave the woman his undivided attention in order to avoid such a cockup again. “Oh! Yes, ma’am. I’ve worked with Lieutenant Okan to plan the safest, most efficient route possible through the nebula. If we get through without any hitches, it should take us roughly twelve hours to get to the other side,” he revealed.

Vasoch raised an eyebrow and inched forward in his seat to the right of the Captain. “Twelve hours?! That seems like an inordinate amount of time to cross a single nebula,” the Tellarite remarked, glancing at the helmsman and science chief in turn.

“Normally, we could do it in somewhere between four and six,” Henry nodded slowly, “but it’s the freighters. If they go anything above one quarter impulse inside, their manifolds will collapse and we’ll lose them. Since our fate is tied to theirs, we obviously need to stick to them like glue,” the Terran explained, drawing a nod of thanks from the snout-nosed being.

“Our advanced computer systems will be able to adapt and plot new routes as we go, far quicker than any of the Romulan ships,” Mora chipped in from Ops, “we’ll use Valesa to relay changes to the convoy, which should be able to adapt within seconds.”

“Noli?”

“We’ll remain at yellow alert throughout our trip through the nebula Captain,” the Bajoran blonde told, safe in the knowledge that the Andorian would defer to her better judgement in this situation. “Shields have been adapted for the nebula, and we’re as prepared as we can be from that perspective. It’ll be up to fly boy to minimise the dents on my shield grid though,” she smiled at the younger man playfully before carrying on, “and the sensor adaptations for the tachyon grid are complete. Much like Akaria though, we won’t know how effective or useful it is until we are required to use it.”

Rubbing her hands together in glee, the Captain slid back into her chair and crossed her right knee over her left leg. “I do love when a plan comes together,” she smiled at Vasoch, who simply nodded and turned back to his own controls. “Counsellor,” she turned to Vittoria finally, “how are the crew holding up?”

Shifting in her seat to look at the captain more closely, Vittoria smiled. “As to be expected, they’re responding with diligence and an abundance of caution. They know we cannot afford any mistakes in this matter. They’re to be commended, really. It can’t be easy to have such a drastic change of command staff foisted upon them, and then have the fate of dozens of Romulans placed on their shoulders,” she concluded.

“I’ll be sure to note that in my log when we get through this,” Tharia smiled appreciatively, then turned her attention to the main viewer. “Alright people – let’s rock and roll. Nebula on the main viewer. Lieutenant Mitchell… take us in.”

Surrounded by her protectorates, the Ulysses gradually inched towards the leading edge of the swirling clouds of dust, gas and radiation that made up the Velorum Nebula. Their mission was a go.

Executive Officer’s log, supplemental.

 

After a long twelve hours, and with Romulan sightings in the nebula proving to be nothing more than sensor ghosts, Ulysses and her convoy have successfully arrived at Kunhri. All freighters have begun the process of unloading their cargo and, in conjunction with colleagues from the Starfleet vessels in the system, the expansion of the Kunhri security net has begun. I am relieved to report that there have been no attempted incursions into the system that we are aware of, with Romulan factions seemingly giving the system a wide berth. It could be due to the defences in place; it may be a response to the Starfleet presence. Either way, we leave safe in the knowledge that Kunhri appears to be in a much safer place than when we first arrived here aboard the Temeraire.

 

Despite my misgivings about her command potential, and the manner of her arrival aboard the Temeraire, Captain sh’Elas has navigated not only our crew, but the task group itself, through a dangerous time. Is it possible that this woman, much heralded by her own people but derided by mine, has earned my respect? 

Standing at the replicator on the port side wall of the Officer’s Mess, Commander Gor watched those who had been summoned with great interest. Conversation flowed freely, laughter ringing out as the staff shared a beverage and a bite to eat in their first bit of down time since they had left the Opra system nearly twenty-four hours earlier. Their continued experiences had brought them closer together, with the bonds of friendship clear for all to see, even the hard nosed Tellarite. He just had to figure out where he fit in all of this.

Linn and his counterparts from engineering and science were deep in conversation about the adjustments to the sensor suite. Doctor Zinn, the argumentative Deltan, even shared a joke with the Counsellor – something about a Rigellian and a Nausicaan walking into a bar. Most bizarre. But it was the interaction between Lieutenant’s Mitchell and Noli that caught the executive officer’s eye in this particular instance. Henry was slouched, feet up on one of the tables and nursing his beverage of choice when the Bajoran tactical officer sidled up to him and crouched beside him. She whispered something in the young man’s ear and then squeezed his left bicep, causing his whole demeanour to change. Rising back to her feet, brushing the hair out of her face, the blonde grinned as she took her own seat, leaving the helmsman somewhat red in the face. Whatever she had said to him, the Commander did not want to know.

He wouldn’t get chance to find out, either, as at that moment, the doors on the starboard wall parted and granted entrance to the Andorian commander of the ship. That was his cue. Reaching out for the two glasses he had replicated, Gor made a beeline for the Captain and offered her a beverage. “Captain,” he nodded as she took ownership of the glass.

“Thank you Commander,” Tharia smiled, then gestured for the man to join her, and the crew, around the table and sofa area. “Evening folks,” she greeted the staff, to a chorus of ‘hellos’ and ‘good evenings’. Sipping on her warm beverage, an Alcataran hot chocolate, she slipped down on to the sofa between Lieutenant Prida and Commander Gor. “Firstly, I want to congratulate you all on a job well done. I’ve spoken with Commodore Farrell, and he wishes me to express his gratitude for your efforts. A difficult task was completed thanks to your efforts, and now the people of Kunhri will have the protection they need as they determine their own path,” the Captain revealed, much to the muted delight of her tired people.

At this point, Noli sat forward in her chair slightly and caught the Captain’s eye. “Is there any truth to what we’re hearing, about the Romulan Republic?“

Tharia nodded slowly. “Talks between the Republic and the government on Psi Velorum have been brokered by Fleet Admiral Ramar. Diplomatic envoys from the Republic are present, which means an end to our responsibilities in the region,” she let out a sigh, reflecting her frustrations on the matter. “We’ll support the populace from afar, and maintain diplomatic links, but it is pretty clear that the Republic and the people of Psi Velorum are best positioned to support each other moving forward.”

Another sip of her beverage saw the Captain inch forward in her seat. “Now that our time in Romulan space is coming to an end, I’m afraid it is no rest for the wicked,” she continued, to some less muted groans. Throwing her hands up to stop the protests that she could feel coming her way, the Andorian elaborated somewhat. “You are being presented with a choice, my friends,” the Andorian told.

That sparked some muted conversations between the assembled staff, with Starfleet rarely presenting their people with choices. Orders were orders, afterall.

Tharia hushed the room with a simple look, then continued with her elaboration. “Ulysses will be departing for Deep Space Forty-Seven, whilst Temeraire will be remaining along the Romulan border. Starfleet Command has asked me to remain here, as commander of the Ulysses, in order to lead our exploratory mission into the Thomar Expanse and beyond. I accepted their offer a short while ago.”

There was that not-so-muted outrage again, with everyone asking a million questions at once. Tharia fought above the noise until she couldn’t any longer, and at that point, the XO chimed in with a response that surprised even him. “If you are to remain here, then so will I Captain,” he declared loudly, words that stunned the crowd into silence. The looks on the faces of people like Noli, Linn and Chiera said it all; not one of them expected the Tellarite to be the first to pledge his support for the Andorian.

Tharia looked at the man sat next to her, her cheeks slightly flushed and a minute smile on her face. “I appreciate that, Commander. Thank you,” she nodded in acknowledgement, before looking back at the shocked faces. “You, like the rest of the personnel from both commands, have been given the same options. You have until tomorrow morning to decide. If you choose to stay, I expect you on the bridge for the start of alpha shift. If you choose to return to the Temeraire, then I want to say thank you for your exemplary service and I wish you fair seas,” she smiled, then noticed the look on a few faces. “Don’t rush into a decision now; take some time, talk to your friends and family, see what fits with your ambitions and career plans,” and with that, she placed her hands on her knees and propelled herself to her feet. “Whatever you choose to do,” she concluded, “do what is right for you. Forget me, forget the ships, forget Starfleet.” 

And with that, the Captain was done. A look at the Commander and a jerk of her head signalled she wanted his company, so the Tellarite dutifully obliged, but not before a few choice words himself. “Whatever you all choose,” he spoke in his gruff tone, “it has been a privilege serving with each of you these last few weeks.” He couldn’t quite believe he had said it, and the looks on the faces of the senior staff echoed that sentiment perfectly. He’d let his icy exterior melt away twice during that meeting, and each time had hit them all. Hard. Unexpected moments of sentiment always did.

Catching up with the Captain in the corridor outside the Officer’s Mess, the Tellarite stopped next to her, arms clasped to his side.

“Thank you for your show of loyalty in there, Commander,” Tharia smiled sheepishly. “It is much appreciated and will never be forgotten, but I cannot accept your offer,” she shook her head slowly, sorry that she couldn’t accept his offer.

A tilted head and narrowed eyes showed the confusion the Executive Officer felt at the Captain’s statement. “I do not understand,” the man retorted.

“Starfleet Command has a different opportunity for you Commander,” the Andorian began her latest explanation. “They would like you to return to the Temeraire and assume command; a justifiable reward for your excellent service and a recommendation from Captain Ruas that I fully endorse,” she revealed, much to the Tellarite’s surprise.

Placing a gentle hand on the Captain’s arm, the XO guided her to one side of the corridor and spoke in a far more hushed tone. “I stand accused, Captain. Accused by myself of shameful behaviour in the wake of Captain Ruas’ departure. I made an already difficult situation worse with my behaviour and I offer you my apology,” now it was the XO’s turn to look more than a little sheepish as he spoke. “You have united this crew in the pursuit of our objectives, and as such, you have earned my respect and gratitude. I am sorry for any part I played in making your task more difficult.” His apology was short and heartfelt.

However, the good Commander had no reason to worry. Tharia reached out and tapped him on the arm in a reassuring way. “It was a difficult time for us all, Commander. Thanks to you, I was able to command this crew to success in a way that I could only have hoped for at the start of this whole, sorry affair in Romulan space. You have nothing to apologise for,” she assured him as best as she could.

“I may not,” he smiled a toothy grin, “but I owe you the same loyalty as I showed Captain Ruas. I never had any ambitions for command, and that remains true to this day. So, what is it Lieutenant Noli would say? Starfleet can take their offer and…” he paused, a toothy grin a response to the smirk and shake of the head from the Captain who knew exactly what Lieutenant Noli would have said had she been there.

“Well in that case, I welcome your decision to stay,” the Andorian grinned, gesturing for them to start their journey once more. “We’ve got a great deal of work ahead of us, Number One. Let’s get to it.”

“Vasoch,” walking alongside her, the Tellarite gave his final endorsement of her command, “you may call me Vasoch.”

[Several Hours Later…]

The magnificent hallways of the majestic Great Assembly Hall of Ashalla were beautifully lit as the midday sun beamed through the windows and glistened off of the highly polished walkways. The seat of political power for Bajor, the hallways of the Assembly were usually a buzz with chatter and footsteps as people went about their business, but today there was an eerie silence, broken sporadically by the odd set of footsteps and whispers among those that were inside.

On the top floor, and headed for the grand entrance to the building, the Bajassian engineer made her way towards the grand central staircase that linked the four floors of the huge building. She, too, had an eerie silence about her as she began to descend the stairwell towards the ground floor.

Sat in the shadows of the second to last step was Kai Lishan Noryl, a kind-eyed, pepper haired male. He smiled up at the woman as she grew closer. “Well hello there my child. You have requested an audience with your Kai, and the Prophets have made it so.” Slowly, he reached forward and cupped her left ear in his hand, and he caressed it softly. “Where shall we talk?” he removed his hand from her ear, his palm met the other as his pointer fingers touched, hands embraced and fell to his belly in rest.

“Perhaps the courtyard, Eminence?” Prida smiled as she relaxed a little. She defied anyone to be tense in the presence of Bajor’s religious leader. He was such a pleasant, calming influence even in the most troubled times. “It’s a beautiful day out and we’re stuck in here,” she stood to the side and stretched out an arm in the direction of the massive doors that had remained open to let in some much needed air.

“Yes, the courtyard, most favorable.” The Kai walked slowly by her side in silence as they exited to the luscious courtyard beyond the hall walls. “Well? Speak my child. Let the Prophets guide your lips and my shepherd’s hand as we sit,” his voice calm as if a father speaking to a babe. The Kai moved toward a stone bench and lifted the wasit ends of his decorative and elaborate robe and sat. He patted the spot next to him. The light warm breeze rustled his free flowing hair.

The Bajassian clearly looked troubled as she sat down, lacing her hands on the matching knees and let out a sigh. “I need guidance, Eminence,” she told as her eyes fell on some passers by in the distance. “I have been presented with a number of choices that I struggle to make sense with. Each opportunity is tantalising, exciting. Each has its merits and appeals, and not a single downside that I can see,” she pouted, her dark lips pushed together as she mused.

The Kai nodded as he looked into the distance, his ear clung to each of her carefully chosen words. “For a long while now, you have walked with the Prophets, done what had to be so, no matter how popular. You have helped bring two peoples closer together. Your efforts have helped the people of Bajor and cemented your legacy with the Prophets too,” he shifted his tone and looked toward her, his eyes reassuring, “But now you must put yourself first, something that is far from natural to you,” he reached towards her with both his hands. They were cold now, especially as he cupped her cheeks into them and pulled her face closer to him. He was gentle, fatherly, nothing about his actions jaring or alarming. He smiled at her, his eyes full of kindness, his voice but a whisper. “The Prophets have sent me a vision, Child. Your friends will need you in the days to come…”

Jolting awake in a cold sweat, panting heavily, Prida was more than a little concerned about what she had just experienced. Not only a statement from the religious leader of her people, a statement that her friends would be needing her in the days ahead, but also a vision in and of itself. It was more than just a simple dream; it was too prescient. A vision she could only liken to an orb experience of sorts, but with no orb present, it was surprisingly odd.

At least the vision had helped her make her crucial decision, even if she was concerned about what the message from The Kai meant exactly. Just how would her friends need her? Were they going to be in some sort of danger? Or was she reading into things just a little too much?

She’d find out in the days to come, that was for sure.

Standing in the turbo lift to the bridge with sweaty palms and bowed antennae, nerves threatened to consume the Andorian Captain. She had spent much of the night laid in bed, anxious as to what she would face that very morning. Her crew had been given a choice, whether to stay or go. Two ships, very different in design and mission. Two fantastic opportunities had been presented to them, and she couldn’t help but worry about who would stay with her. She’d had no contact with anyone from the point she had left Commander Gor outside the Officer’s Mess the night before, but now they shared the turbo lift to the bridge, and both looked more than a little anxious. The silence said everything.

On the final approach to the command center, the Captain took a deep breath once the lift started to slow. In truth, she expected at least three of the staff to return to the Temeraire, but what if the door’s parted and no one had remained? What if she was about to lose everyone she had trusted? The look on Vasoch’s face showed that he had the same concerns, but a forced smile tried to reassure her.

Her time was up, however, as the lift came to a stop and she composed herself. Tugging on her uniform shirt to iron out any creases, she took another deep breath just in time for the doors to pull apart and grant her entry to the bridge. A few tentative steps later, both officers had their answer.

“Captain on the bridge!” Lieutenant Noli Auru called from the tactical rail that surrounded the command arena, rising to her feet and standing at attention.

Across the bridge, people mimicked the stance of their Tactical Officer and welcomed the two command officers to the bridge. Slowly but surely she surveyed the crowd. Henry at the CONN was joined by his Bolian counterpart from Ops. Two newer officers to her command, but two she was pleased to retain the services of. Near them, Lieutenant Okan from Science was joined by the Captain’s friend, Lieutenant Prida Rala. Standing in the command arena itself, the blonde form of Counsellor Vittoria Chiera smiled back at the Captain. Everyone was present. Everyone apart from one noticeable face. Tharia let out a sigh, her head dropping at the realisation that she had lost…

“Sorry I’m late,” Doctor Zinn announced upon emerging from the port turbo lift. “We’ve had another new birth. Lieutenant Okan, you’ll be pleased to know that Chief Romanov has given birth to a very healthy baby boy,” the Doctor revealed, standing beside the command officers and looking in the direction of his science division counterpart.

A ripple of applause rang out around the bridge, drawing a smile from the Captain. Her eyes began glistening at the sight, with the Andorian quickly comforted by a hand on her arm from the Tellarite beside her. It was his reassurance; everything was going to be fine. Taking a far more relieved deep breath, the Captain looked at her colleague. “Let’s do this,” she nodded.

Bowing ever so slightly and respectfully to the commanding officer, Vasoch quickly set about his business. “Departure stations,” he called out, marching towards his chair at the right side of the command arena. “Lieutenant Noli, inform the other vessels in the system that we are heading out. Lieutenant Mitchell, set a course out of Romulan territory and straight for the Badlands, warp six,” the Tellarite instructed as he took his seat in the command arena.

Senior officers across the bridge took over their stations once again, and those without a station stood where they felt most comfortable, watching and waiting. Tharia walked into the command area herself and stood in front of the command chair. When happy, she lowered herself into it once more and grasped its arms.

“All vessels have been informed,” Noli called out from Tactical, “and I’ve taken the liberty of passing on our best wishes to the government on Kunhri too,” the Bajoran smiled, exchanging nods with the Captain.

“Course laid in,” Mitchell confirmed from the CONN.

“Ready, Captain?” the Tellarite asked the commanding officer.

“Ready,” she responded. Then, sitting back in her command chair, a devilish grin filled her face.

“Let’s rock and roll.”

[Two Weeks Later…]

Two weeks. In the grand scheme of recent events, two weeks seemed like a lifetime. Ulysses and her crew had been involved in numerous events within Romulan space for that period of time, but with the ship travelling to the Badlands for her new mission, the crew of Ulysses had found themselves with a lot of off time. Two weeks of down time provided the crew with ample time for bonding, getting to know one another, and ensuring that the technological marvel they called home was ready for their mission into the Thomar Expanse.

For the Captain of the Ulysses, it was just like being at home again. Her new ship bore many similarities to that of the Santa Fe, which was understandable given the shared lineage of the Galaxy and New Orleans classes. These similarities meant she found it far easier to assimilate to her surroundings than she had on the Temeraire. The presence of so many of her colleagues helped too, of course. It was always easier to settle in when one was surrounded with people they knew they could trust. And today, that trust would be needed.

Sat in the comfort of her ready room, buried deep in post-mission paperwork, she was forced to look up upon the parting of her doors and the sudden, unannounced appearance of her Tellarite executive.

“Captain, we have a problem…” Vasoch declared, not waiting for the invitation to sit before pulling out a seat opposite the Andorian. “A Federation security officer has been killed on a Federation prisoner transport near Bajor. According to reports, a prisoner escaped confinement from the maximum security cells, attacked the officer, and fled to the Ashalla spaceport,” the Tellarite revealed, his words causing the Captain to cease her activity.

“This is our problem, why?” she enquired, sitting back in her chair and defensively folding her arms across her chest, instantly regretting the question.

Vasoch took a deep breath before unleashing the bombshell upon the woman.

“The prisoner is Lieutenant Prida’s older brother…”