USS Erigone – Bridge – 0800

“…this briefing is concluded.”  The screen blinked and then displayed the Starfleet symbol before fading out.

Helmsmen Prentice was the first to react, “What the hell?” as he turned in his chair to face Commander Harris in the center chair and Lieutenant Reid at one of the back stations.  “This means a mess, doesn’t it?”

Ambrose sat forward in his chair, the news about the Romulan Star Empire and the now lack of a Romulan Star Empire leaving him with a great host of questions which had not been really answered in the briefing they had just received as a part of their fleet operations.  “I think the official term is a matter of galactic security or a galactic incident.”

Reid spoke up, “You think we’ll be sent to the front of this thing?”  She wasn’t nervous as much as she was uneasy.  Historically events like this brought more blood and suffering to the table than hope and restoration.

He turned towards her in the command chair, “I think everyone is going to be in play.  The Raven class is a fast response ship and we’re supposed to be able to get into situations better than larger class ships.  In my experience Starfleet doesn’t hesitate to throw everything into the mix.  This…this is massive.”  He glanced around the room, “To Doctor Reid’s point, we’re going to need to be ready to go wherever they tell us.  Prentice, get us underway to Starbase Bravo for resupply.  Reid, my ready room.”  Ensign, you have the conn.”

USS Erigone – Ready Room / Quarters– 0815

The CO sat on one couch while his Chief Medical Officer sat on the opposite couch.  He had poured himself a glass of apple cider and had handed her one as well.  Silence held in the room for a moment before he spoke, “We’re picking up a Chief of Operations at Bravo.”  He handed her a PADD with his service jacket and she read it while quietly sipping on her chilled cider.  Another moment passed and she returned the PADD to him.

“He’s pretty light, only served on freighters and one station.”  She took another swig and chuckled, “Sometimes I think Raven class must just be a dumping ground…but then I wonder if we’re just the dumping ground.”  Reid glanced at her CO.

Harris shrugged, “I don’t know.  We’ve been doing this a few months and nobody got sent our way until now.  We’re still short a security/tactical officer, and given what we’re going to get thrown into…I don’t know how to feel about that.”  He leaned forward, “How are you feeling about this?”

Reid scoffed, “I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”  He gave her a questioning look and she continued, “I’m a pessimist when it comes to these kinds of things.  There’s probably going to be some war, or battle, or something. Everyone’s gonna shoot at each other and we’ll have to figure out how to stabilize the galaxy…again.  This kind of thing never goes quietly.  It’s usually loud, angry, bloody, and piled with bodies.”  He gave her another questioning look, “…and no, I didn’t add anything to this cider.  I’m just irritated.”

Ambrose pursed his lips, “I couldn’t tell.”  She rolled her eyes at him and scoffed again.  They had grown close in the few months they’d been on the Erigone.  Both would steal glances at the other and the banter had become a regular feature of their relationship.  “Joking aside, how are you feeling?”

Jordan sighed, “That famous quote from James T. Kirk…about risk being our business?  That’s where I’m choosing to sit at the moment.  I signed up for Starfleet because I wanted to get out and do something different.  Bigger, better…or whatever.”  She drained the glass and sat back in the couch, “Any more good news?”

Harris chuckled quietly, “They’re probably going to assign us a group of response engineers, probably 15 or so.  We’ll get our assignment at Bravo and then off we go.”  His cup was empty and he went to fill it again.

Reid watched him for a moment before asking, “How are you feeling about this?”

He sat back on the couch roughly and sipped at his refilled cup, contemplating his feelings.  He settled on, “I always thought I would be a chief engineer for the rest of my life.  Like, I’d just be like a Scotty, or a LaForge – a lifelong commitment to the same old girl until she either blew up or was retired.”  He swirled the brown liquid, his eyes searching the cloudy cider for answers, “But I never imagined being a command officer.  Maybe because I stuck myself in engineering…maybe that’s why they kicked me out and up.”  He shrugged, “This rank and this job mean I’m responsible for more than just the ship.  I’m responsible for people…and their safety.  That’s what I’m sitting in at the moment.”

Jordan nodded thoughtfully and stood, “I’m going to do some work in sickbay.  Lots of medical journals to read and inventory to check for the 23rd time.”  She paused at his door, “I think you should stick around command for a while, Commander. Hate to have to get used to another one.”  With that, she was out the door and down the corridor, leaving Harris to think on that.

USS Erigone – Bridge – 1800

“This is a very small ship.”  Lieutenant Phillips stood on the bridge, a bag at his side and a look of growing concern crossing his face.  His new CO stood near the center chair, having welcomed the officer onboard moments ago.

Harris nodded, “She is small, yes.  But capable.  We’ve found her to be reliable and comfortable given the circumstances.”  A pause.  “Your quarters are available to you and your first duty will be a staff meeting at 1900, here on the bridge.”  The operations chief continued to look around the bridge and then settled on the commander before nodding softly and walking back out the door.

Prentice was already turned in his chair.  He wasn’t sure what to say, and had found himself running foul of Harris with his mouth so he searched for the right words to avoid another long staring glare from his CO.  He tried, “He’s…different.  Different is good.”

Harris raised his eyebrows but said nothing as he returned to the center chair.  He tapped away at his PADD for a moment and sighed, “Ensign, status on our engineering detachment?”  A thumbs up from Prentice was his signal all was well.  There were 15 of them, and it pushed the Raven class a little in how crowded it suddenly had become.  The former Chief Engineer had taken some time to run through the files of the men and women he’d been assigned…and it wasn’t a terrible bunch of officers…but it wasn’t a stellar group either.  In keeping with the Erigone’s ongoing reputation, it was a mix of outlaws, inlaws, and others who may have been dumped.  Ambrose tried to keep an open mind.  “Ensign, plot our course to the mission point Starfleet provided.  Maximum warp at your leisure.”  The Erigone was gone in a flash.

USS Erigone – Bridge – 1900

The command crew was all seated while the engineering support team stood around, eyes shifting from chief to commander and back again.  Harris felt that old stage fright sensation making a startling return but fought to push it down.  He stood by the command chair, and gestured to the screen, “Our current assignment is to make our way towards the Velorum sector.  Starfleet anticipates there to be many refugees and assorted folks fleeing or seeking refuge from any number of worlds and sectors.  We’re going to be keeping an ear out for distress calls, ships in need, or even medical emergencies.  Our Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Reid has already been working with some of you on field medical training and that training will continue as we travel and get closer.  Our more pressing need will be lending a hand with the engineering detachment.  We’ll be checking in with colonies and other assorted folks along the way to see who needs our help.”  He glanced at the assembled crew, “We expect to arrive in our target investigation area within a few hours.  Get what rest you can, I suspect it’s going to be a bumpy ride from here on out.  Dismissed.”

The engineering crew broke apart and headed to their respective bunks, leaving Harris with this command crew on the bridge.  The newly assigned Operations Chief spoke up, “Who will run the ship while we sleep?”

Harris nodded, “We’ve worked on that.  Between myself and Dr. Reid, we installed holographic projectors on the bridge so that our EMH can handle the night shift in concert with the ship’s computer.  If anything comes up, the klaxon sounds and we’re immediately summoned to the bridge.  We got some help from Bravo’s engineers and operations teams with additional protocol controls and paths for the EMH – she can administrate command line options within a select operational bubble.” Our daily shifts from 0600 to 1900 – each of us is layered.  I start out the day at 0600 and go to about 1600, Reid goes from 0700 to 1700, and you go from 0800 to 1800 while Mr. Prentice is 0900 to 1900.  That’s going to change on the fly as mission needs change, so keep that in mind.”  He looked around to them, “Get your rest, team.  We’ve got a mission to work in the morning.”  The command team headed off until it was just the commander on the bridge.  He took a deep breath, “Computer activate Emergency Command Hologram.”

There was a beep and then a whir and then the image of the ECH appeared in full on the bridge.  “Please state the nature of the command emergency.”

Harris chuckled a little, “No emergency.  You’re on duty for the night shift.”  He stopped, “We never settled on a name, did we?”

The ECH shook her head, her eyes searching the ceiling for an idea, “We did not, Commander Harris.  My databanks do not have a preference.”  She looked back at him, “Perhaps you can assist?”

Ambrose thought for a moment, “What about Rachel McKee?”

The hologram studied him for a moment, “What is the name’s significance?”

The CO contemplated just dismissing it, “It’s a long story.”  The ECH blinked and stared at him.  “Right. Time doesn’t matter to you.  Right.  Okay.  You have access to my personnel file?”  The ECH nodded, “Then you know what occurred to give me this”, he pulled up his uniform pants to reveal the mechanical leg underneath.  The ECH nodded once more.  “The incident in which I lost my leg was when I saved everyone in engineering.  The last girl…I barely got her out…hence the leg.”  He rubbed the imaginary itch that started, “She was in ICU for a month…nearly died.  Thankfully, she lived.”  He paused as he felt the memories of the event slipping back into his heart, “However…she resigned from Starfleet…refused to step foot in any starship ever again.  Last I heard she was working in Denver on a power support project.”

The ECH did not frown but simply asked, “What do you feel about your role in her life choice?”

Harris shook his head, “A younger me woulda blamed myself for the whole thing.  But I don’t.  I don’t blame her either.  She endured a horrifying experience that left scars that will never heal.”

Another blink or two.  “And you?  Are you healed?”

A sigh, “I knew I made a mistake giving you counselor traits in your programming.”  The ECH didn’t react, just waited for his answer.  “Humans never really fully heal from trauma.  We process, we repair, we cope…we endure.  And before you ask, we endure because a life lived long is worth every struggle and every heartache.  The beauty of life is connected to the pain.”  He looked up at her.

“My programming is satisfied with your answers.  This ECH is now named Rachel McKee, ranked Lieutenant Commander and XO of the USS Erigone.  Program underway.  I have the CONN.”  She turned away from him and gently sat in the command chair, staring ahead.  For Harris, it was an odd thing, but he trusted the work they had done to build and improve her.  They needed her to work.

The day ahead would challenge each of them in its own way.

USS Erigone – Bridge – 1000

“Nothing in this sector…yet.”  Reid turned in her chair at the back of the bridge, “There are plenty of warp and impulse trails.”  She wondered why Starfleet had sent them out here in the first place.  Her CO hadn’t had much of an idea outside of a ‘start here and head towards there’ mission’.  They’d met for coffee in the morning.  He’d informed her of his plan to have her serve in the First Officer role given that they would probably be assigned a security officer soon.  The crew was filling up quickly, he’d noted.

Harris at in the center chair, frowning as she reported.  He had expected crowded shipping lanes or fleets of refugees careening through space, but the sector’s emptiness left much to be desired.  “Long-range sensors?”

Reid shook her head, “Nothing.  Some Starfleet ships in transit to their assigned sectors.  Communication’s traffic isn’t much better – pretty mundane.”  She returned her attention to her console and muttered, “A whole lotta nothing.”

The commander pushed himself out of his chair and walked towards the viewscreen, squinting at it as if it would help.  “Damned peculiar.”

A rude and familiar beep sounded from Prentice’s helm station and he nearly shouted, “Commander, we’re picking up a distorted distress call at the edge of this sector.”

Ambrose walked to stand behind him, “On speakers.”

Prentice nodded and went to work. As the speaker sputtered he worked to clean up the channel.  =^=We*zzzztt*……having….*zzzztt*  troub….*zzzztt*…injure…*zzzztt*…request…*zzzztt*…help….*zzzztt*=^=

Reid stood and shifted to the standing station behind her as she slid her fingers over the console to help Prentice’s transmission work.  “Boosting transmitter sensor…”

The message slowly clarified as Prentice adjusted variables on his console as Reid worked.  =^=We’ve come under attack.  We are having engine trouble!  Many injured!  We are requesting Federation or Starfleet help…we are asking for help!=^=

Harris returned to his chair, “Can you get us an intercept point?”  Prentice nodded as his fingers teased out the coordinates and displayed them on the viewscreen.  Ambrose glanced at the map, “We’re damned close.  Prentice, plot a course and engage.”  He stood and turned to Reid, “Doctor, you’re going to need to get the engineers up and ready for transport – divide them into medical and engineering teams.”  Reid didn’t wait to respond as she moved quickly through to the door on the lower part of the bridge to the lower decks.  The commander turned to his new operations chief, “Ops, inform Starfleet what we’ve found and send them everything we have so far.  You’re going to be our main communications center for this, so get what you need.”  He gave a back to Prentice, “Sound yellow alert.”  The klaxons rang through the ship as the lighting from deck to deck faded to a dull yellow along with the LCARS.

USS Erigone – Bridge – 1015

Prentice announced, “Arriving at location now.”  The Erigone flashed into the sector and the viewscreen showed an aging Miranda class starship at an awkward angle.  Burn marks across the hull were evident while the power seemed to be flickering.

Harris stood, “Open a channel.”  The tell-tale sound of an open channel sounded across the bridge.  “This is Commander Ambrose Harris, USS Erigone.  We received your distress call.  Please respond.”  He waited a moment.  Prentice tapped at his console and shook his head.

Reid spoke up as she had returned to her station, “Sensors reading no life signs on board…and significant damage to the ship.  Power is unstable and several decks have been sealed off as a result of…whatever attack happened here.”  She tapped further on her console and glanced at the screens reporting the additional readings, “The weapon readings are coming back as Romulan origin.  The starship itself…”  She accessed registry records, “…that’s a very old ship.  She was in Starfleet a long time ago but apparently sold or decommissioned.  It was owned by a Romulan official at some point.”  She turned in her chair, “There is a recent warp trail that entered and leaves this area that connects to whatever happened to that ship.”  She sent the sensors out searching long-range, “I’m not showing anybody out there at the moment.”

The CO groused, “I’ll say it again.  Damn peculiar.  Comms traffic?”  He turned to Phillips who sat at the operations station next to the helm.

“Nothing currently…but there is a curious latent communications signal coming from that ship.  As if…there is a location beacon or something.  Doctor Reid?” 

She had turned in her chair and was ahead of him, “Lieutenant Phillips is correct, sir.  Scans weren’t looking for this frequency – that’s why we missed it.” She retasked the sensors on the ship, “It’s a very specific frequency…and it would be powered to broadcast long distances.  Whatever this device was they thought they had deactivated it…but it’s still sending out a faint signal.  Won’t reach outside this sector, I think.”

Ambrose sighed, “I’m guessing we’re going to have to investigate, aren’t we.”  He turned to Reid, “Lead the medical team.  I’ll take the engineering crew to get the ship stabilized.  Computer, activate the ECH.”

Rachel McKee faded into view, “Please state the nature of the command emergency.”

He shook his head, “You have the conn as XO.  Myself, Reid, and the engineering detachment are headed over to investigate a damaged ship.”  She gave him a nod and sat in the center chair.  Harris felt some relief as he headed to the turbolift.

SS Pentax – Engineering – 1030

The transporter beam faded as Harris and the engineering crew snapped into action.  They were wearing oxygen masks as they broke out the tricorders and move from station to station.  The lights faded in and out as various klaxons rang throughout the ship while smoke drifted through the engine room. A fire or two was quickly put out by the engineering team.  Harris found his way to the warp core as one of the detachment was completing a scan, “Report?” He showed Ambrose the readings.  The core was stable but offline.  The officer reported they could get it online in a few minutes and the ship’s environmental controls would take over.  He nodded for the man to get to work.  He tapped his communication badge, “Harris to Erigone.”

The voice of Doctor Reid reached him, =^=Go ahead, Commander=^=

“We’ll have power restored in five.  I’m headed to the bridge.  Once we get life support restored, meet me there.”

=^=Understood.  Will do.  Erigone out=^=

The CO let his hand fall to the phaser at his side.  They hadn’t been able to read if there were any bodies and he wasn’t sure what they would find.  He left engineering and walked carefully through the corridors.  The lights continued to flicker and fade.  Phaser burn marks littered the hallway and he slowed to check on a few points.  The readings came back – Romulan blood.  The debris increased the closer he got to the turbolift.  He saw signs of higher settings of weapons fire.  Entire walls were collapsed into themselves.  Fires burned in blocked quarters while he tried to make sense of what had happened here.  He reached the turbolift a few minutes later with a startling discovery.  A Romulan lay crumpled near the button used to summon the elevator.  Ambrose knelt beside him and ran the tricorder over him.  He was dead but hadn’t been dead for long.  The tricorder estimated he’d died thirty minutes previous.  The blast wounds were excessive and the CO wondered who had led this attack.  What kind of brutality had been excised on those living and dead?

Suddenly the lights above flickered…and then stayed on as fresh air began to fill the corridor.  He could hear the various fire control systems kicking in down the hallway.  His tricorder scanned and came back clear.  He doffed his headgear and tapped the console for the turbolift.  It opened and he stepped in, keying in the bridge.

SS Pentax – Bridge – 1040

“They all died right before we arrived.”  Reid had beat him to the bridge and her engineering medics were examining the bodies on the bridge.  She sighed, “This was excessive…even for Romulans, Commander.”

Harris moved from station to station pulling what data he could, “They didn’t want them talking to us.  I think it was also a message.  Don’t come after us or we’ll do this to you.  They probably picked us up on long-range sensors and decided we might be a match for them.”  He found the operations station and went to work on accessing the ship’s files, “They tried to wiper the computer banks…but it looks like they didn’t quite make it.”

Reid listened as she continued to examine the bodies.  The one in the command chair had a more intricate uniform and she frowned.  Something…had moved?  She scanned him quickly, “Commander, this man is alive!”  Harris motioned one of the engineers to continue his work on the ops station as he bounded over the help her lower the Romulan male to the ground.

He coughed and grimaced in pain as his eyes opened to beheld his rescuers, “You are Starfleet…thank the heavens.”

Reid went to work on stabilizing him, motioning over two of her converted medics to help.  Harris knelt next to the man’s head, “Commander Ambrose Harris, USS Erigone.  What happened here?”  Reid finished scanning and shook her head.

The man on the floor noticed, “I am called Presa…a provincial representative.  I was unable to make the grand meeting.  I fled…hiding…until they found me.”  he coughed and winced at the pain crippling his body, “Your doctor cannot save me, Commander Harris.  You must know we understood the risk of trying to get away.  We knew this fate was probable.”  He sighed, “They killed everyone once they got onboard and saw you were coming.  They didn’t take any prisoners.  They murdered us all.”

Harris felt for the man, “I have to ask…there was a signal onboard…”

Presa growled through the pain, “We had a damn traitor in our midst. Kalia.  She planted a tracking device and we didn’t know to look for it…” he gestured to the front of the bridge, “She died by my hands for her treachery.  I don’t think they even looked for her…tells you how much they care.”  Reid glanced at the prone body of the Romulan woman.  Blood covered her body as well as pooled around it.  He looked to Reid and then to Harris, “I go knowing I served the Empire by trying to save us…and killing the one who tried to end me.  I go…knowing I have lived a life worth….”, those were his final words as his breath faded.  His eyes went listless, staring out into the abyss of death.

Doctor Reid checked his pulse, “Time of death 1047.  Damn it.”  She stood and looked at the bodies that littered the bridge, “I told you, Commander.  Blood and bodies.  This is just a sample of what we’re going to be dealing with.”

Ambrose nodded, “I hate it as much as you do, Doctor.  We need to make sure these folks are properly buried.”  Reid gave him a somber look and nodded.  She gave instructions to the engineering crew and they began the slow process of identifying each body in accordance with the ship’s records and then ensuring a photo was taken to ensure identification.  After all that was completed, Reid and Harris went about the process of vaporizing the bodies somberly.  Once that was completed they returned to the Erigone.

USS Erigone – Bridge – 1115

“Correct, sir.  The SS Pentax wouldn’t last another attack.  We did some quick and dirty repair work to get her functional again…but anything short of a Starbase dock isn’t going to extend her life.”  The lead engineer of their detachment team gave him a nod after completing his report and stepped to the side.

Harris sat back in his chair, “I hate funerals.”  He shook his head at the screen that showed the Miranda class ship.”We should do this right.”  He stood and spoke, “We commit this ship to the depths of space and humbly submit the bodies of the crew to the emptiness of space.  May their sacrifice have meaning in this great conflict.”  He motioned to his operations chief, “Mr. Phillips, engage the self-destruct.”  A nod and the bridge fell silent.  The engineering crew and the crew of the Erigone stood in silent repose as the countdown to the explosive baptism approached.

5…4…3…2…1…0.

The SS Pentax exploded and aided by additional charges set by the engineers was consumed by fire in near totality.  A moment more of silence held until Harris turned to the gathering, “Officers…dismissed.”

USS Erigone – Quarters/Ready Room – 1500

“…we are left to wonder what forces were at play with the SS Pentax and her crew.  We’ve done our research in Presa.  He was who he says he was.  Records indicate he had some engagement with the Federation and Starfleet over the years.  The woman who sold them out,” he glanced at his notes, “Kalia Parast.  Her file is much more interesting.  She was an identified operative within the Romulan government early in her career.  There was suspicion she was responsible for several dissident assassinations in recent years. She fell off the radar six months ago.  I suspect she joined Presa’s group to infiltrate their operations…which she succeeded.”  He tapped the PADD to the next page, “Whoever her handler or supervisor is remains unknown.  Doctor Reid is working through the data we pulled from the Pentax in hopes we can track, trace, and possibly even save more lives from whatever this rogue operating group is…or even if they are rogue.  Reports continue to flood with conflicting information on who controls what and where – Romulan politics and machinations were challenging on a good day.  We’re trying to interpret smoke signals in the middle of space – it’s never an easy thing.”  He signed the report on his PADD, “There is some good news.  One of the engineering officers that we were assigned is not actually an engineer.  He’s a security and tactical officer and was confused as to why he was assigned to us as we are – given how fast things are moving around the galaxy I’m not surprised.  I’ve received permission from Starfleet to offer him a position onboard the Erigone.”  Another pause, “I’m still not sure this is where I belong.  I’ve handled what’s come our way…yet I’m still not convinced command is my place.  Time will tell, I guess.  End log.”  The computer beeped and Harris returned to the couch and refilled his cider.

“Commander Harris to Ensign Allen, report to my quarters.” The former chief engineer sat on one couch and waited for the arrival of his guest.

Roger was walking rounds before heading to the bridge when he was summoned to see the CO. Already on that deck, he acknowledged the call and quickened his pace.

The door to the quarters opened after the security officer tapped the door chime.  “You wanted to see me, sir?”

Harris stood and welcomed him in, gesturing to the couch opposite him.  As the officer sat, Harris did the same.  “You’re the odd man out in your grouping, Mr. Allen.  I don’t know how it happened, but you got lumped with the engineering crew we were assigned.”  He sat forward, “What can you tell me about your experience as a security officer?  I’m looking at filling a chief role here in the Erigone – it’s a dual security and tactical role.”

Roger chuckled about the personnel snafu that listed him as an engineer instead of security; they happened from time to time.

“To be honest, sir, I was on SB Bravo only a few months, so I don’t have much experience, but in that time, I learned a lot. I also got favorable reviews from my section leader. I appreciate you bringing me on board, so I’ll continue learning and working hard.” Roger was sincere, so he hoped he didn’t sound over-the-top.

Ambrose gave a nod, “We all have to start somewhere, Ensign.”  He handed the security office a PADD, “Here’s the current roster for you to review.  We’ve managed to modify this Raven class so each senior officer has small quarters like this and then whoever we pick up or get assigned to support are in bunks.  Your quarters are identified there,” he nodded to the PADD, “…and your station on the bridge is the left front station next to our helm officer.”  He glanced at his chrono, “Your general shift will run 0900 to 1900 – parallel to the helm officer, Ensign Prentice.  Given how things on this class of ship seem to go, our shift hours won’t be standard much of the time, but it’s nice to have some order in the chaos.”  He stood and extended his hand, “Welcome aboard the USS Erigone, Chief Allen.  I’ll update Starfleet on your assignment…any questions for me before I dismiss you?”

Roger shook hands. “Thank you, sir. I’m glad to be here. No questions right now, but I will certainly ask if anything comes up.”

Harris gave him a nod, “I’ll leave you to find your quarters and study up on the Raven Class.  We should have orders by tomorrow on where we’re headed next.  Dismissed, Ensign.”

“Yes, sir, and thank you,” said Roger.  Harris returned to his PADD as the new addition to the crew departed.

USS Erigone – Bridge – 0715

“Good morning, Commander.”  Jordan Reid stepped onto the bridge, a fresh mug of coffee in one hand, and a PADD in the other.  Harris looked from the center chair and gave her a nod.

“Good morning, Lieutenant.  We’ve got orders from Starfleet to assist in a repair and secure job on the edge of the Velorum Sector.  One of the outposts got mixed up with the Romulan Star Navy as they were fleeing the sector.  Our detachment of engineers will help them get back up and running.”

She slid into the chair at the science station and took a deep drink of her coffee, “Here’s hoping we get there from here without anything else on our radar.”  She tapped at her console, “I finished up with the data dump from the ship last night.”  She tapped at the console and the main view screen changed as she went over what she had found, “There were some files of interest in the computer and not just from the current occupants.  It looks like the SS Pentax was involved in intelligence gathering both on the Federation…and with the Federation.”  The screen rotated through the various logs and data she had reviewed.

Harris leaned back in his chair, “So whoever operated the Pentax before Presa took over was a…double agent for the Federation?”

The information on the screen changed again, “I think there’s more to Presa than meets the eye.  His style of log writing is very similar to the previous owner of the ship.  There’s an ‘official’ transfer order having the Pentax change owners to Presa…but there’s data corruption on who the owner was in the first place.”  She changed the data on the screen again, “…but I looked at the corruption signature…and if you look close enough…,” she zoomed in through the various levels of code until the marked area of damage filled the screen, “That’s not natural corruption.  You’d have to know what you’re looking for to read between the lines of the code…but someone sabotaged certain parts of the Pentex’s computer, logs, and records to ensure the past stayed in the past.”  She turned in her chair, “I think Presa was some kind of deep level operative in the Romulan Star Empire…and I think something happened to make him flee.”

Ambrose stood from the center chair and slowly walked to where she sat at the back of the bridge, “There’s lots of talk about how this all occurred and that most of the people fleeing were people who would not have been on board with this whole situation.”  He glanced back at the screen, “What if Presa and his crew had long been loyal operatives or whatever for many years…and suddenly they found the line they refused to cross.  That this was too much for them.”

Reid frowned, “You’re suggesting a tried and true veteran Romulan operative would have blinked at murder and political assassination?  We studied them in the academy.  They’re true believers.”  She continued to tap at her console as she reviewed the data she’d found, “Now that you’re mentioning it…,”  She tapped over to the communication logs of the Pentax, “There are some odd messages and communications going on here.”

Harris leaned down and read the messages and transcripts, a sly smile developing on his face, “That son of a gun.  He was trying to figure out what they were up to, right up until the last moments.  You see those phrases – I’d best my command that’s code between him and his contact.  The repetition is key…there…and there.”  He selected the details and the computer analyzed, a green affirmation mark appearing.  “He was trying to figure it out…so he could warn someone.”  A beat passed, “Who knows if he got any warnings out…they must have been suspicious enough to get Kalia involved.  That or they suspected everyone and Kalia was the rule and not the exception.”

The doctor groaned as she listen to her commander, “I’m a doctor, not a geopolitical analyst.  This is why I went to medical school.  I’d rather patch up the idiots on both sides and save their lives than have to sort out who hates who, who’s gonna kill who, and why it keeps happening.”

Harris chuckled, “Now you know how I feel about command, Doctor Reid.”  She gave him a playful roll of her eyes as she returned to her station.  He returned to the center chair and tapped a message into his PADD.  Senior Staff Meeting at 0900 on the bridge.  Briefing and assignments to follow.  He checked his chrono.  He had enough time to snag breakfast.

USS Erigone – Bridge – 0900

Roger’s duty shift on the bridge started at 0900, but when he received a message from the CO there would be a briefing there for the senior staff, he hurried getting ready and took over the tactical station fifteen minutes early.

Senior staff.

Only a few months out of Starfleet Academy and he was part of the senior staff. A Raven was a small ship by Starfleet standards, but it was still a ship. As long as he did his duty and did it well, this could be only good for his career and dream of having his own command.

Harris stood at the front of the bridge facing his senior staff.  The screen showed the details of their assignment.  “Good morning.  We’ve got our first assignment.”  He nodded to Reid at the back consoles as the images changed to show the station.  “We’re being dispatched to help repair and restore this station near the Velorum Sector – there are equal parts medical needs and engineering needs so we’ll be plenty busy.”  He tapped at his PADD, “Further mission details have been sent to your PADDs for review.  My understanding from Starfleet is that this will be a simple repair and heal operation but as we’ve witnessed recently – the situation in the sectors around the former, current, and whatever else Romulan Empire is fluid at best and out of control at worst.  Multiple ships and groups have been assigned to the sector so we won’t be alone, but we’re operating on our own without support.  I have every confidence in us.”  He looked around to his command team, “What questions do you have?”

The helm officer spoke up, “Do we expect any kind of resistance or combat?”  He had been doing lots of time in the holodeck with maneuvers and attack vectors.  The last few months had been a startling discovery that he wasn’t as good as he thought he was.

Ambrose shrugged, “I can’t promise anything – though I wish I could.  There’s a lotta movement out there with every different player in this mess throwing down and throwing up – plenty of our ships out in the sector or on their way are playing scouts when it comes to ship positions and who belongs to who.  We’re not built for long or sustained combat of any kind so we need to be careful.  This isn’t a Galaxy-class that can take a pounding.”

Philips spoke up, “Will we have time to run some drills?  If we come under fire, we will need to be prepared to respond accordingly.”  He had completed his own evaluation of the crew since coming aboard and he was astonished at the lack of preparation and training he had found in the files of his fellow command team.

The CO gave him a nod, “We’ll do what we can.  Prentice already laid us in a course and we’re slated to arrive at the station at 1500 today.  This will require some adjustments in your shift schedules.  Make your own adjustments.”  He nodded to Reid, “Doctor Reid is our First Officer and will be the one, aside from me, to ask for activation of the ECH to ensure everyone’s rested and ready.  Any other questions or concerns?”

“No questions here, sir,” said Roger, “but whatever you need me to do to help prepare, I’m ready. I’ve run diagnostics on the tactical systems. If anything happens out there, we’ll give our best.”

Harris looked around the bridge.  Each of them brought something to the table of the Erigone.  Each was going to be tested in the coming days.  “Very well.  Report to your stations at 1500.  Dismissed.  Doctor Reid?  My ready room.”

USS Erigone – Ready Room / Quarters– 0930

Harris sat on the couch across from Reid, swirling his apple cider glass as she sipped on her requisite black tea.  They regarded each other in silence before he leaned forward, “Helluva thing, the Pentax.”  He looked into her eyes for a moment before asking, “How are you doing?”

Jordan leaned back on the couch, enjoying the chilled tea.  She wondered when he’d sit down with her to discuss what had happened on board the aging Miranda class.  She was quietly thankful he’d given her time to process on her own.  Some commanding officers sought to force you to reckon with your feeling before you even had a chance to feel them.  “I’m…not sure, Commander.”  Searching for the right words she ended up with, “I’ve seen death up close.  Working in emergency medicine…and my fellowship…people died on us.  But…they died in our care.”  She shook her head, still trying to sort out how she felt about it all, “These men and women…they died without care…without help…without anything.  They were murdered.”  Reid sat forward, fire burning behind her eyes, “They died because someone wanted them to die to show us we should be afraid of them.  They died to instill fear…and that’s hard to accept.”

Ambrose sighed, “That’s the part that’s been hard for me, too.  I refuse to accept the blame for their deaths…”, he gestured his chin at her, “…and you should too.  The blame rests on the evil that thought it better that they die in cold blood instead of maybe surviving but still in fear.”  He swirled the cider in his cup, “It doesn’t make trying to understand how to process any of it any easier.”  He downed the cider and set the cup on the coffee table between them.

Reid drank from her tea and spat out, “I didn’t think I’d have to tackle this kind of crap this early in my command experience.”  Another drink.  “You ever read Lord of the Rings, Commander?”  She leaned back on the couch, staring out the window as the stars rushed past.

Her CO chuckled, “J.R.R Tolkien was required reading in my home.  One of the classics of old Earth literature.  Why?”

A shrug, “There’s a line where Frodo reaches a point where he feels he can’t continue…that it’s too much.  He says, ‘I wish the Ring had never come to me.  I wish none of this had happened.’  I’ve been thinking about that line since we got back onboard the Erigone.”

Harris leaned back, remembering the scene in the book, “Doesn’t Gandalf say something profound in response?”

Reid allowed a thin smile to cross her lips, “Touche, Commander.  He says, ”So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide…”

The CO interrupted her, “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.’  I remember that moment.”  He sat forward, filed his glass with cider once more, and held it up to her, “Here’s to deciding what to do with the time we have been given, Doctor Reid.”  She gave him a long look and his mouth smiled in response so she rolled her eyes and clinked her glass to his.

“They teach you that in command school, Commander Harris?”

“Learned that from my momma, thankyouverymuch.  She loves her toasts and hosting – probably why she’s a diplomat and I’m an engineer.”  He stood, “I’ll take the CONN for a bit.  Get some rest – we’ll split the day shift to make sure our folks are ready at 1500.”  She gave him a half nod and left the room.  Harris downed the rest of his cider and headed for the bridge.

After being welcomed aboard the Erigone by Commander Harris, Roger left to find his quarters and to get settled. Once inside, he looked around. It was compact, about the size of his room at the academy, but this time he didn’t have a roommate. Satisfied, he tossed his travel bag on the floor.

Roger traveled light; a few shirts and personal mementos. Reaching into the bag, he held a picture of him and Ashley, a special girl he met on Earth. The photo was from a camping trip he had gone on with friends. She became a nurse and was assigned to a starship a long, long way from Starbase Bravo, Roger’s first posting. He hadn’t realized how much he missed her.

Serving on SBB was a time Roger enjoyed. Though he met a lot of interesting people, after a short time, his duties quickly became routine. Patrolling the promenade. Keeping order. Enforce rules and laws. He knew he had to start somewhere, but ship duty was where he wanted to be.

On the base, rumors were flying. Word of a Romulan coup, with assassinations, spread like wildfire. Opinions were abundant and different views and factions formed. The tension could be felt even though life on the station hadn’t been affected yet. He transferred off at the right time.

The Erigone was considered to be small, though it was nearly the size of a football field. He supposed by starship standards, that was small. Roger was brash and filled with confidence, but in his alone time, he allowed himself a few moments of doubt and wondering.

Things in the sector were going to explode at some point, which could have lasting affects for decades, and he was part of it, just where he truly wanted to be.

USS Erigone – Bridge – 1330

“Lieutenant, sensors are picking up something…odd.”

Jordan Reid stood from the command chair and stepped down to watch over Ensign Prentice’s shoulder, “Define…odd.”  She moved over to the ops console next to him.

“I’m getting a familiar reading…computer classifies it as Romulan in origin.  There it is.”  He tapped the console and sent the report to her.

She tapped the console and frowned, “Oh, that is not good.  That’s the brief signal we picked up when we arrived on-site at the distress call.  Distance to us?”  She sprang from the station and bounded back up to the command chair, sitting in a huff, her heart rate elevating slightly.

The helm chief shook his head, “She was moving away from us, looks like towards our station assignment…but something spooked them.  They’re at the far end of our long-range sensors.  My guess is they felt our eyes on ’em…they are slowing and adjusting a course to intercept.  Lieutenant…”

Reid stood, “Way ahead of you, Mr. Prentice.  Go to red alert.”  He gave a nod as she tapped on the arm of the center chair, “Commander Harris to the bridge, we have a situation.”  The klaxons rang loudly this time.  Red alerts were more pressing, and so the designers of the computer systems had ensured that nobody on any ship would have any doubt about needing to get up and move when that signature sound rang from deck to deck and back again.  The Erigone was a small ship, but people still had to get to stations.  They still had a group of engineering officers on board and they were scrambling to report to main engineering and their damage control stations.  The lights had already flickered to a dark red hue as well as the LCARS brightened and the red sigil blinking on the walls.

The doors at the rear of the bridge flew open and Ambrose stepped out, giving Reid a nod as she slipped to the rear science station and he slid to a halt in front of the center chair.  “Report.”

Prentice was working his console as he spoke, “The ship that attacked the Pentax appeared on our long-range sensors.  She was headed towards our assignment but then turned towards us.  Think they picked us up.  Shields are up, weapons ready.  I’ve dropped us out of warp and plotted several escape patterns if needed.”

Harris remained in front of the center chair, seeking his crew’s guidance, “Solutions, Mr. Allen?  We didn’t get a good look at them before…what are our chances?

“Our chances are good, sir, and confidence is high.” Roger used an old saying from Earth’s past, though he meant it. He didn’t know yet exactly what they were facing, but he knew what his skills and abilities were.  At this point, we don’t know for certain why the Pentax was attacked or what the intentions are of what’s coming, but I like to think they’re not keen on firing on a Starfleet vessel. Once we’re in range, I’ll scan their ship for any vulnerabilities I can find.”

This was what Roger wanted to experience. Serving on a base was fine, but it couldn’t come anywhere near the rush he was feeling now.

Harris sat in the command chair, “You and I would like to think they’d avoid firing on a Starfleet vessel…but so far they’ve surprised us at each turn.  Prentice – how much longer did we have until we reached the station?”

He didn’t even have to look at his console, “Two hours sir…hour and a half if we pushed it,” he turned in his chair to face his CO, “We could always try and out fly them to get there.”

Harris smiled quietly, “I am well aware of your qualifications in the outlying category…and I’m sure Ensign Allen would relish the challenge of running and gunning.”

“Yes, sir.” Roger wasn’t really sure what else to say, but getting away without having to fight was always better.

Ambrose sat back in his chair, “The Romulans on that station still need our help…and this might be a distraction move to keep us away from whatever further damage someone might be doing out there.”

“If it is a distraction, it could be they’re waiting for more ships to arrive,” said Roger. “We need to keep our eyes open.”

Harris thought on Allen’s advice, “Agreed.  Keep our eyes and ears open, Mr. Allen…and our fists ready to fly if all hell breaks loose.”  Harris turned to his FO at the science station

Reid shook her head, “It’s a rock and a hard place, commander.  The mission comes first…there’s hurt people out there and a station that needs our help.”

The CO returned to face the bridge, “I’m not a fan of a no-win scenario.  Prentice, maximum speed to the station.  Redline her if you have to, but close the distance between us and the station.  Stand us down to yellow alert.”  The lights faded to a lighter yellow.  Harris turned to Reid once more, “Can you push out the long-range sensors to give Ensign Allen a better picture of what we’re looking at?”

She nodded as she keyed in the commands on her console, “Working on it now.  Mr. Allen, you should see a clearer picture of our target…now.”

Roger studied the scan results. “The ship is of a configuration I haven’t seen.” He tapped his console. “It’s not in the database. I can tell that it’s comparable in size to the Erigone. It will need to come closer to get more.”

Ambrose stood from his chair and walked over to the ensign’s shoulder and examined the readings the officer was seeing.  “Comparable in size is one thing…you see that?”  He pointed at two odd-shaped points on the Romulan ship.  “That’s not Romulan design.”  He thought for a moment, “She ran from us when we came into range.  Now they’re circling around.  Why?”  He looked around the bridge, “Theories?”

Prentice shrugged, “They want to kill us?”  

Harris gave him a pointed look, “Too simple.  They wanted to do that, they’d have waited for us.”

The operations chief, Philips spoke up, “They wish to eliminate any witnesses?  We know it was them now.”

The CO contemplated it and dismissed it, “We’ve sent our ongoing reports to Starfleet – the secret is out.  Who killed who isn’t important to them.”

Reid frowned and turned to her console for a moment.  She turned back, a faint look of concern filling her face, “We have something they want.  There’s still plenty of data from the Pentax that the computer is sorting and I’m working on…what if there’s something in there that they don’t want revealed…that they fear that more than anything.”

Harris grumbled, “From the frying pan to the fire to whatever the hell this is…Mr. Allen, I need you to work with the engineering detachment we’ve been assigned.  Get them as experienced as you can in security in case things get out of hand and end up hand to hand.  We may be equally matched in size but I don’t believe in giving credence to anybody with a phaser pointed at my head…or charging at me with one raised.  How much time until they intercept us?”

Roger tapped the tactical console. “ETA is about an hour. They’ll reach us before we make it to the base.”

A nod from the CO, “Then we have that amount time to prepare for whatever’s coming next.  Doc, signal Starfleet on our updated status.  You best take five of the best medics from Mr. Allen’s twenty newly minted combat engineering teams.  Mr. Prentice, I need our weapons and shield viability reports as soon as you have them – I’ll take a crack at figuring out how to enhance them.”  He returned to the center chair and met each of his officer’s eyes, “We’ve have our orders.  Let’s get to it.”

The crew dismissed and went to work.

USS Erigone – Bridge – 1420

“We are 45 minutes from the station. and five minutes from intercepting with the Romulan ship,” William Prentice announced from the helm station.  Next to him sat Ensign Roger Allen the freshly recruited and promoted Tactical and Security Chief.

Commander Harris rose from the center chair, “Mr. Allen – what do we know about our new Romulan friend?”

Roger began another detailed scan. There was a tense silence on the bridge while the others waited.

“The ship is still of an unknown design. It’s 15% larger than the Erigone.” Roger paused. “Standard disruptor arrays and one torpedo tube. Their shields are up. Nothing we can’t handle, sir.”

The former CEO felt the urge to frown.  The standard Romulan ship types were fairly well known but the smaller ships were a challenge to keep track of and now they were facing an unknown variable.  “Doc?”

Reid’s hands coaxed details from her science console, “I concur with Mr. Allen – she’s a little larger than us so we might have some challenges there but sensor reports are coming back with a similar read – they’re not coming into this with an advantage.”  She turned in her chair, “I think I found somewhat they’re wanting.” Harris turned on his heels to face her and gave a nod.  She tapped at her console and the view screen changed, “It looks like our friends on the Pentax were doing some deep-cover work within the Romulan Star Empire and the Navy.  Besides the work they did in sharing what they knew as double agents, they were working on getting data, communications, and more showing the plans that eventually led to the murder of the Senate – they name names and had gathered significant evidence of cooperation with the Romulan government and beyond.”

Harris raised his eyebrows, “Beyond…?”  He heard Prentice swear under his breath but didn’t correct him.  Whatever Reid was alluding to suggested something larger and evolving.

Jordan shrugged, “I’m still working through the data but there’s the suggestion of cooperation with some of the larger pirate groups, a syndicate or two plus a couple of extremist groups on the fringe of Klingon politics and even Vulcan.  It’s all very convoluted and makes very little sense.”

Pirates. Roger strongly disliked people like that. Selfish. Violent. Uncaring. He had no qualms taking down some of them if given the chance.

Ambrose grumbled, “It very rarely does.  So we’ve got a data treasure trove that gives details and light to the things they’ve been doing in the darkness…and they want it back.”  He paused, shaking his head, “That’ll be the day.  Reid, transmit to Starfleet the details you’ve uncovered so far…and the raw data files.  Encrypt them.”

She turned to her station and felt her breath catch in her throat, “Commander, communications are being jammed, and pretty heavily.  Looks like our new friends don’t want us talking.”

“Confirmed,” said Roger. “We’re jammed on all frequencies.”

It was the CO’s turn to swear under his breath and he caught his helm officer smile quietly at his station.  Harris returned to his chair, “Well, we’re in it now.  Red Alert.  Mr. Allen, coordinate with Mr. Prentice to your left.  I’ll handle our engineering teams.  Doc – ”

She stood from her station as the lights faded to red and the klaxons rang again,  “Sickbay, yes.”  She tapped her badge, “Sickbay response team, report to stations.”

Roger allowed himself to have a quick smile before putting on his game face. If it came to it, he was up for whatever the Romulans had.

Prentice felt his heart rate pick up speed.  He’d completed his holographic training and he’d done his share of hot shot flying with shuttles and the like, but this…this was different.  This was the real thing and what he did could put them out of range of a blast or two…or it could put them face-first into a wild torpedo shot.  He mapped out a few quick keys for evasive maneuvers he’d studied in his academy days.

Roger could sense Prentice’s nervousness. He leaned toward him and spoke so only the helm officer could hear. “You’ll be fine, Will.”  Prentice glanced at the man and returned his compliment with a nod and a quiet, “Thank you, Roger.”

Harris tapped at the consoles attached to the center chair, “Helm, drop us out of warp and get us on a quarter impulse course to intercept.

William nodded and tapped the command to bring the ship to a stop and then quickly pointed the Raven Class starship at the unknown Romulan vessel.  “Intercept course engaged.”

The bridge was quiet as the alert lights thrummed on and the beeps from the various stations filled the void.  Harris sat forward and muttered, “What are the chances we can hail them and sort this out like grown-ups?”

“No way to know, sir,” said Roger. “At this range, we should be able to punch a comm signal through the interference.”

The CO tapped the console on the arm of his chair, “Might as well try.”  The ubiquitous sound of an open channel whistled on the bridge, and Harris spoke, “This is Commander Harris of the USS Erigone.  We’re here to…”  The Romulan ship let loose a sequence of disruptor fire and the shields held but the ship rumbled a little.  He stabbed the channel closed, “Boring conversation anyway.  Let’s get evasive, helm.  Mr. Allen, we’ve only got 15 torpedoes so let’s make it count. See how our phasers do against that thing.”

Prentice slammed the ship into a dive and swerved out of the way of the next barrage of disruptor fire.  The inertial dampeners grumbled but held.

Roger had trained for a long time for a moment like this. Studying tactics in a classroom and doing holo simulations had increased his skills and honed his abilities, but there never was the danger of injury, or worse. Now that he was in the real deal, the feelings going through him went from fear to being nervous, to the most amazing adrenaline rush ever. He wondered if it would always be like this.

While Prentice moved the ship in an evasive maneuver, Roger waited for the optimal chance to do some damage. When the Erigone was aligned, he fired phasers.

The helm officer swerved the Erigone just as the Romulan attacker blasted with disruptor fire with half of the shots hitting home.  The thundering sound of the blasters echoed over the bridge as Harris pulled up the shield’s report, “Shields are holding, but I think they’re gonna get tired of swinging their hands at us.  Mr. Allen, let’s see if we can concentrate our fire on those two mysterious pieces that we spotted earlier.  Helm, get us in range.”

Ensign Prentice gave a nod to his orders and set them on a direct course for the ship as the Romulans let lose a barrage of disruptor fire, causing some of the consoles to flicker.  He quietly whispered to the Erigone, “Hold together, girl.”

Roger’s mouth was dry, his palms were sweating, and his stomach felt like he was in zero-g training, but he maintained his focus. Targeting the spots on the other ship the CO mentioned, Roger fired a full phaser volley.

“Direct hit!” Roger’s reaction was louder than he wanted.

Harris allowed a small smile to cross his lips.  Allen was turning out to be a good choice.  He gave a gentle warning, “Don’t get cocky, Ensign.  Nice work.  Let’s keep the pressure…”  The bridge shuddered and a console sparked at the impact of torpedo fire.  

Philips spoke up from the back of the bridge at OPS, “Two torpedoes, direct impact.  Shields at 80%.  They’re targeting our shield systems, Commander…” Another shake of the bridge, “Another torpedo impact. Shields at 70%.  Dispatching damage control teams to address shield generators.”

Harris gripped the arms of the center chair.  Time to fight fair.  “Mr. Allen, let’s play the game.  Target their shield systems with torpedoes and fire up to four right at ’em.  Prentice…”

The young pilot grinned, “Evasive and Aggressive, aye sir.”  The Erigone went to full impulse and climbed up and over the Romulan ship with ease and strained dampeners.  Prentice scrambled the ship in a zig-zag pattern to avoid the impending disruptor fire and then slammed the Erigone into a hard right turn, facing the Romulan ship.

Roger waited, waited, waited… Now! “Torpedoes away.” Roger made sure to maintain a calmer demeanor.

The first two shots slammed into the Romulans, and the shields sparkled.  They attempted to evade the next two, but Allen’s aim had been true, together with Prentice’s precarious flight patterns.  The second pair splashed into the enemy ship and the shields reacted again, only this time there wasn’t as much power behind them.

The ops chief called out, “Target’s shields are at 70%.  Showing there is an unusual power surge in their phaser banks…”, the bridge actually shook this time as the overcharged phaser blasts impacted on the Erigone, sending the officers gripping their consoles.  Philips shook his head in concern, “Our shields are at 60% – damage control teams report the shield generators aren’t the problem – they’re targeting the emitter banks on the hull.”

Ambrose grumbled, “It’s what I would do.  Their captain must be an engineer like me.  Mr. Allen, let’s not play it safe.  Push the range on overcharging our phasers and follow up your fire with two torpedoes. See what you can dig into on their ship to bloody their nose a bit.”  He motioned to Prentice, “Get us in range and position.”  The helm officer struggled to avoid the rapid phaser fire from the attacking ship and was halfway successful.  The bridge shook again as the high-powered and targeted phaser fire rippled across the shields and into the power system.  The ops officer announced the shields were at 50%.

Roger was thrilled to be in the middle of the action, but he was starting to get annoyed. He was hitting the other ship, but they were hitting back. It was time to finish this. Targeting the enemy weapons array, he let loose with the fury of everything their tough little ship could muster.

The Erigone’s remaining nine torpedoes let loose across the blackness of space as the Romulans did the same.  

Prentice sucked in a deep breath as his hands jumped to his console and threw the ship into a pitch and roll in an attempt to escape as much damage as possible.  The disrupters splattered across the shields, thunder echoing throughout the ship.  An empty console in the back sparked while the bridge shook…which was nothing until Prentice’s fancy footwork wasn’t enough to dodge three Romulan torpedoes and they plunged into the weakened shields.  The rear consoles exploded, sending Phillips to the ground with a shout and a grunt.  The main bridge lights flickered as a conduit vent exploded and poured steam over the viewscreen.

The floor rattled underneath their feet while Harris tapped his badge, “Sickbay to bridge!”  The environmental fans kicked on as smoke filled the bridge.  Two engineers sprang through the doors with fire extinguishers followed by Doctor Reid and an assistant.  Ambrose leaned forward, “Damage report!”

Prentice tapped his hands on the console, “Shields are at 20%, and phaser banks are offline.  We have some hull damage…but no decks have buckled.”  He tapped the console again, “The Romulans aren’t much better.  Shields are at 30%, but we took out their weapons systems, so all they can do is throw stuff at us.”

Harris swung his chair.  Reid was checking out Phillips and the fire from the console was finally out, leaving the bridge to be filled with Reid’s soft questions to the Ops chief.  She looked up and gave a nod, “He got a face full of fire and bounced off the ground, but we’ve stabilized him.  I’ll follow up from sickbay.”  

“Thank you, Doc.  Keep him safe.”  The CO spun in his chair, looking at the viewscreen.  “Mr. Allen, it looks like our friends…are leaving?”  One of the engineers had a ladder and was working to secure the conduit.

“Yes, sir. They’re veering off,” said Roger. He was disappointed they didn’t get a victory, but they did live for another day. That’s what mattered.

Ambrose motioned to Prentice, “Track them as best as you can, ensign.  I want to know as much as I can about where they’re headed.”  The engineer had secured the conduit over the viewscreen and returned to the rear of the bridge to assist in repairing the consoles that had exploded.  The air still held the acrid smell of smoke and burnt flesh. The CO left the center chair and stood beside Prentice, “Continue our course to the station.  Send a report of this…incident to Starfleet and update them on our intentions to resume the mission.”  He paused and glanced around the bridge, “Let the station know we’re going to need some repair help while we help them.”  The helm officer nodded, the feelings of the battle were slowly fading.  He’d just survived his first encounter with an enemy starship.  He was quietly thankful for the skills of their new tactical officer – Prentice was starting to like the guy.

The CO returned to the center chair and tapped the shipwide communication channel, “Commander Harris to all crew…you performed incredibly well today.  We’re alive because of each of you and your talents.  The Erigone is better with you onboard…and I thank you for what you did for us today.  We’ll be arriving at the station in an hour or less.  Harris out.”  Pulling out a PADD, he began to compose his mission log.

USS Erigone – Ready Room / Quarters – 1700

“You look like you’ve got something to say.”  Harris sat in his place on the couch across from his FO, Doctor Reid who was laying back on the couch she seemed to have claimed as her own for these kinds of meetings.

She sighed, “There’s always going to be that annoyance from your Chief Medical Officer about having to patch people up because we had to fight this guy because that’s the way of the warrior.”  She grumbled, “I’m a doctor, not a gladiator battling the bad guys in the ring.”  She accepted a glass of chilled cider from him and continued, “I cut my teeth on science and medicine – finding ways to heal, to cure, to improve life…and somehow I end up on a ship that sees action around every goddamn corner.”  She held up one hand, “I’m sorry for that…that was out of line.”

Ambrose leaned forward, “Doc, something I learned in my command schooling was you want people that sharpen you every step of the way.  That push against you, question your ideas, and every so often tells you the goddamn truth.”  She gave him an odd look and he filled his glass, “We had to do a study of the big command teams over the years.  Kirk and Enterprise.  Archer and Enterprise.  Sulu and Excelsior.  Janeway and Voyager.  Picard and Enterprise.  Sisko and DS9.  What we found as we dug in deep to examine what made that group of men and women so exceptional – was that they were all so very different in what they believed, how they thought, and what direction they imagined the galaxy should go.  You go back and look at the Kirk, McCoy, and Spock trifecta.  They made an incredible team…but they didn’t always get along or agree.”

Reid rolled her eyes, “If you’re comparing us to them, I’ve got news for you sir – that ain’t us.”  She downed her glass and accepted a refill from her CO.

Harris chuckled, “Well, I won’t disagree with you, Doc.  I’d throw another word in there – yet.”  He sat back as she gave him a curious look, “One of my professors was big on positive self-talk – she made us do it at the start of every class every day.  One of the things she kept hammering into our heads was the power of the word ‘yet’…and we all started to believe her.  Took each of us a while to come around to it…but she was right.  I’m not on the level of a Captain Kirk or a Captain Sulu…yet.  I’ve got lots to learn, lots to do, and lots to figure out.  That’s yet to come.”

She gave him a long look, “Anyone ever tell you that you talk a little much?”  She gave him a quiet wink at the end.  

He matched her long look, “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a little too honest sometimes?”

Reid chuckled as she swished the half-full cup of cider, “I’m just being a McCoy to your Spock.”

The CO gave her a mock look of outrage, “Who says I’m not McCoy and you’re the Spock?”

Jordan pointed her glass at him, “You’re a commander, not a doctor.  McCoy’s my guy, always will be.  Plus he got a kickass nickname, ‘Bones’.  Well,” she stood up, “I should go check on our patient.”

Harris stood as well, “I should probably follow you – I need to check in with him anyway.”

USS Erigone – Sickbay – 1715

“Thank you, doctor.  I am quite well.  It just hurt everywhere.”  Lieutenant Phillips lay in the biobed, his face wrapped in bandages as the newly minted engineering medical assistant ran the dermal regenerator over the cloth.  Reid stood by, watching and giving suggestions to the officer about position.

Harris stepped up the side of the bed and sat on a rolling stool, “Chief Phillips…I’m glad you’re doing better at least.  You took a helluva beating on the bridge.”

The Ops Chief gave a slight nod, “We’d been told about what it would feel like at the academy.  The burning, the flash of hot pain…and then the shock…and then when it wears off…”, he looked to his CO, “They weren’t lying.  It hurt…”

Reid spoke up, “We’re clearing up a concussion as well – he hit the deck pretty hard and fast.  With his facial burns and other injuries we should have him back on duty in a day or so.”

Phillips groaned, “I’ve been arguing with the doctor about getting back on duty sooner, but it is very challenging arguing with a knowledgable opponent.”  He looked at Reid and gave a resigned nod, “But I will abide by her recommendation.”

Jordan smiled quietly, “It helps when they listen and behave.  Less need for me to strap them in the bed.”

Harris gave her a side look, “Seriously?”

Phillips muttered, “Seriously.”  

The CO looked to his FO and CMO, and then to the patient and back again.  He opened his mouth, and then closed it…and finally responded with, “Whatever gets the job done, I guess.”  He gave a nod to Jordan, “I’ll leave you to it.”  As he left, she felt her heart shifting towards him more and more.  Where she would land, she wasn’t sure…but something within her was pushing her in a direction.

Rogasa Station – 1800

“They didn’t care what they hit, as long as they hit something.”  The Rogasa Station Sub-Commander sat at the conference room table as she related what had happened to them and why the Erigone had been called.  “They knew we were neutral to all the…events.  We were on record as having only scientific interest here on the station.”  She gestured to the PADDs she had provided, “You’re welcome to examine our reports and our studies.”  She looked at Harris and Reid in thanks, “We’re appreciative of you coming to help…we’ve lost much of our engineering staff and half our medical team died on one of the lower decks when it buckled under fire.”  She paused and bowed her head, “We have not yet had time to grieve for our friends.”

Ambrose allowed a moment of silence to fall between the two crews before he spoke again, “Sub-Commander Thasaz, we are sorry for your losses. This cannot be an easy thing for you and your crew.”

Thasaz only nodded quietly as her second in command spoke up, “We are going to hold services for the fallen tomorrow morning at 0800.  Once the mourning process is completed overnight and we bury our dead, we will be glad to assist you in the work on the station…until then, we must gather together.”

Jordan leaned forward, “That is understandable.  Our work can begin around you.  We were told you still had wounded in sickbay?”

Kaeas, the second in command gestured to the PADDs they had in hand, “We have thirty of our crew who were injured in the attack…they are currently under the care of our station nurse as our doctor was killed in the attack.  Whatever assistance you can render there would be helpful.”

The CMO tapped into the PADD and began to read the patient profiles and status, “I’ll make sure they get the best care they can get.”

The Erigone’s CO spoke up, “We sent the information we had on our attacker and our encounter with Pentax and her commander, Presa.  Anything you can tell us?”

Thasaz bit her bottom lip and looked to Harris and then to Reid, “Did Presa trust you before he died?  Did he believe in you?”

Both of them glanced at each other, silent questions exchanged but a growing understanding began.  Harris sat back in the chair, “He did.  He said he was glad it was Starfleet that had found him.  I think he believed in us to do something about his meaningless death.”

The sub-commander looked to Kaeas and they whispered to each other in hushed tones for a moment before she spoke to Harris, “Presa was a friend…and a protector.  He valued our work here – he’d often come by in his travels on the Pentax.  We’d hear news of home and we’d share with him our discoveries.”  Her eyes search the wall behind the two Starfleet officers as if seeing her memories of the man played across it.  She focused back on the present, “We were unsure of his safety when the news broke of what had happened…but he reached out to let us know he was safe and coming to meet with us.”

Harris spoke up, “He met with you before we found him?”

Thasaz somberly nodded, “He shared with us what he had found…and gave us data files to hold until he returned.”  Her jaw clenched as a wave of sorrow slammed into her heart.  A moment more and she continued, “He warned us to flee…that they would come for us because of our association with him.”  She looked Harris in the eye, “It is a significant ask, but we must make the request anyways – we are requesting asylum or refugee status within the Federation.  They will return for us just as they returned for you…and they will kill.”

Reid looked to her CO and then to the sub-commander, “How many are there?”

“50.  That includes our injured.”

Harris tapped at his PADD, “At emergency status, the Erigone can handle that much.  We’d need to triage the injured and put the criticals in Sickbay and figure out places to house and put the rest.  I’d consider asking Starfleet for a support ship, but my concern will be the longer we stay here…the greater chances of them returning.”

Reid agreed, “We need to get them out of here and over to Starbase Bravo.”  She turned to the sub-commander, “We will depart tomorrow at 0900 hours.  That gives you time to pack up your belongings and say goodbye to this place.”

Thasaz bowed slightly from her seated position, “This is an acceptable arrangement.  Presa was wise to trust you…and we will extend that trust as well.”

Harris and Reid stood as the Romulan officers departed to begin the grieving process.  The two Starfleet officers stood in silence for a moment before Reid broke with, “You think we’ll be safe till we get into Federation Space?”

The former CEO thought for a moment, “What if we self-destruct this station?  It’s an old Federation station that got loaned out to them ages ago…if whoever out there is looking for this find out it’s been blown up…maybe that slows down their search for these people…and us?”

The doctor evaluated his plan, “We’d need to make sure it looked less like self-destruct and more like an attack.”  She frowned at his sly smile, “Why are you smiling?”

Ambrose chuckled, “An engineer, especially a chief engineer, spends a lot of time thinking of ways to create the illusion of destruction on or of his ship if the need to fake something arises.  This is something I’ve spent some time studying and applying.”

Reid sighed, “I don’t want to know about the past applying.  You can make it believable?”

The former CEO now smiled widely, “They don’t call us miracle workers for nothing, Doc.  I’ll get to work with the engineering crew…you get to work on getting your patients onboard.  We’ve got until 0900 tomorrow…then we’re going home.”

Reid watched her CO head out of the conference room.  He was a daring man, and slightly out of control.  But he knew how to do the job…and she was fairly certain he secretly enjoyed being in command.  Shaking her thoughts loose, she headed for sickbay.  They had less than 12 hours to pick up stakes and blow up the lemonade stand.

Larakas Colony – 2000

“They return…without the data?”  Commodore Patra sat at his governor’s desk, listening to the report from his communications officer.  The Larakas Colony sat on the far edge of the system on an unremarkable planet with enough industry to keep the lights on but not enough to warrant export.  It had been a good choice for Patra to center his operations – very little attention was paid to what he did here, even in the midst of the greatest conflagration in the history of the Romulan Empire.  The officer did not nod but gulped quietly.  He stepped forward and gingerly placed an information tablet on Patra’s desk who snatched it up and began to read it, his face growing more and more displeased with each sentence of the report.  Patra threw the device across the room and it shattered into three pieces against the stone walls.  “They did not destroy the station as requested.  They did not eliminate the ship as requested.  They could even beat a small little Federation excuse for a starship!”  He roared as he stood from his desk, sending the messenger skittering out of his office and into the hallway.  He sighed and pressed a button on his console, “Have the commander and his command crew brought to my office.  Now.”

He stood from his desk and stepped over to the window.  Spending much of his life building the operation and operative base here on Larakas had originally been designed to grant him protection from other forces within the Romulan Star Empire.  He knew that power was taken, not earned…and he had worked to take as much power as he could over the years.  Now as the Empire fractured he took great pleasure at being on the side that had brought about the spilling of blood.  He had been promised much for his efforts…and he wasn’t going to let anyone break those promises.

The door to his office flew open and the four senior officers and commander from the Lakax shuffled into the room, escorted by three security guards with menacing rifles.  Patra eyed them carefully.  None of them met his gaze, staring at the floor in abject failure.  He cursed himself for not picking a better crew to do the important things.  Now he would have to find another way to protect his name and his operation.  He stood in front of his desk, his hands behind him.  “You have failed me, Commander Ortas.  You have failed our people.  You were beaten by a…Raven Class starship?”  He chortled loudly and shook his head, “Our ships are built stronger and better than those Federation fools…you let them beat you.”

The commander, a shy engineer, looked up and immediately regretted meeting the fiery gaze of the sub-commander.  “Sir, they were well taught…they did not fold like you expected them to….sir.”

Patra slammed his hands on the desk and was pleased to see them all jump, including the security guards.  “You had the bigger ship!  You chased them rather than lead them into a trap or lure them back to the station where you should have killed that crew.  This is the way you destroy your opponents…fear and playing a game with their heads.  Humans are emotional creatures…you failed to understand your opponent.”

The commander sighed softly.  He didn’t have an answer for his sub-commander.  The other command officers refused to speak.  He knelt to the ground, “I am sorry for my failure, Commodore.  I resign from the command of my ship and offer myself to the mines or other lower level work.”

Petra laughed, drawing a surprised look from the man on the ground, “You won’t have the chance to resign, fool.”  The sub-commander quickly drew the heavy disruptor from his side and fired it point-blank into the head of the man who screamed in pain before collapsing to the ground, breathing his last.  The others stared at the body of their former commander.  They looked up to Petra who laughed again, this time louder, “You will die too.”  He fired at each of them, smiling as each hit the ground with a thump until the command officers were dead.  He gestured to the security officers, “Take a team and eliminate the rest of the useless crew.  Let people see what you do.  Drag these bodies into the square.  If people ask, tell them this is what happens when men fail Petra.  Display them until the flies begin to take them.  Then burn them.”

One of the security officers asked, “And of the bodies from the ship?”

Petra smiled, “Pile them in the square…and set them on fire.  Now leave me.”  He sat in his desk, ignoring the dull scraping of flesh being dragged across the deck until he was the only one in the room once more.  He pulled up his console and began to research what he could find on the crew of this Erigone.  They would feel his wrath.  Yes, they would.

Rogasa Station – 0830

=^=There’s nothing on sensors overnight and comms traffic didn’t have anything unusual.  Looks like we managed to get out at just the right time, Commander.”

Harris was thankful for that as his first officer Jordan Reid gave him the last part of the morning report.  He turned his focus to the 50 people that would soon be filling the corridors, rooms, and more of the Raven Class, “How has the relocation program been going?”

There was a chuckle on the other end, =^=Well, Prentice and Allen are accepting of the arrangement, but Phillips is another matter.  I think he’s used to having his own space for most of his life.  The idea of shacki…sharing space with two other officers seems to have given him quite the shock.=^=

“Outside of Mr. Phillips?”

=^=I’ve managed to secure some cots from the station’s storage, so we’ve got most everyone either in my quarters, your quarters, and stacked in the corridors, the mess hall, and just about damn near everywhere else.  We’ll have to sort out where each of us will lay our heads on the trip home.=^=

Sub-commander Thasaz was walking down the hall, her hands filled with her belongings.  “I’m headed into to talk with Thasaz, thanks for the update, Doc.”  

The channel closed and he offered to help her but she demurred, “I packed myself onto this base all those years ago…it’s a small point of pride that I can pack myself out, Commander.  I understand the Erigone has been made ready?”

“It has.  We’ve set the charges for the self-destruct sequence and we’ve managed to repair our phasers to half strength so we’ll target with those to ensure it looks real.”

A frown from the sub-commander, “What of the weapons fire readings?”

Harris smiled conspiratorially, “Something I learned from a fellow engineer was how to adjust the phaser fire harmonics just enough that it looks generic – mind you, it doesn’t do any kind of damage beyond a burn mark or two if the shields are down, but our friends won’t be looking beyond the surface.”

Romulan officers started filling the hallway and walking towards the docking bay, Thasaz greeting each of them as they passed.  Hugs were exchanged, and quiet glances filled with a renewed hope filled the space between each of them.  She turned back to Harris, “I asked you last night as you were repairing your ship and you didn’t answer me…do you think they will come for you again?  They meant to come for us too, but your sacrifice seems to have saved us.”

The commander took a deep breath and sighed, “Before we found the Pentax and you…I might have made some flippant comment about being an engineer not an expert on Romulan fleet movements or something…”,  he pushed his hands into his pockets, “…but now, I have to think about that question…and what it means for you, your crew…for me, my crew.”  He looked around the station, “I always thought I’d be a Chief Engineer…holding down main engineering and earning my title as a ‘miracle worker’.”

She gave him a curious look, “And now?”

Ambrose didn’t answer her right away but instead leaned against the wall.  He could feel the thrum of the power of the station.  He could detect her space in the stars and how every so often the small thrusters would blast to ensure she stayed in the right place.  Given time, he could feel in the deck if something was wrong…or broken.  He met her eyes, “I think I held onto that dream…or maybe some would call it a fantasy…too long.  Maybe I wanted to be Chief so much…I forgot what possibilities existed as a Commander.”

Thasaz leaned in, “I thought I would die out here running this station.”  A rare smile rippled across her lips, then faded, “Perhaps we both had to come to understand our places in this universe…this galaxy…they aren’t finished and they aren’t meant to stay…what is the human word…stagnant.”  She picked up the cases and packs, giving the place one last look, “She was a good station.  Served us well.  What is that Earth saying…’It is not the end of things…it is just the beginning.’”  Harris gave her a long look and she rolled her eyes, “I had taken to reading materials from your people over the last few months…it’s irritating how those banal screeds get buried in your brain.”  She gave him a wink as she said, “You humans are an odd bunch.”  She lumbered on down the corridor and down the hall to the docking bay.

Harris sat in their conversation for a moment longer and wondered if peace could be maintained…what good could come of relations with the Romulans.  IF Thasaz and her people were any indication, the possibilities were endless.

=^=Reid to Harris…Thasaz reports all passengers are aboard and ready for departure.  All stations report ready.=^=

“Confirmed, Doc.  I’m on my way.  Warm up the engines…let’s get these people to safety.”  He jogged down the corridor, wondering what would come next for him and his crew.  The possibilities…were endless.

USS Erigone – Sickbay – 0600

“Good morning, Commander.”  

Harris blinked his eyes as the light in the room slowly brightened to half and the figure of his Chief Medical Officer spoke up from her biobed, wiping the sleep away.  She was unkempt, looked as rough as he’d ever seen her, and kinda cute if he was being honest.  He pushed that thought away as he pulled himself up.  They’d decided the only place left with beds was Sickbay.  The sleep had been fitful as the biobeds were standard size and generally not built for overnight rest.  “Good morning lieutenant.  You sleep as well as I feel?”  She waved him off and stumbled to the sonic shower room, snagging a fresh uniform on her way.  The CO pushed himself off the bed and ambled over to the replicator and stabbed in a command for two full-strength coffees.  Setting one on Reid’s bed, he took his and sat down at the console.  The ECH, McKee, had made good headway through the night – they were about an hour out of Starbase Bravo.  He grabbed a fresh command uniform for himself and headed for the other sonic shower room, coffee in hand.

USS Erigone – Bridge – 0630

The shower had been the most helpful and Reid had been unusually accepting of his gift of coffee as she’d begun to get sickbay up and running.  They’d shifted four people out of their cots on the bridge into sickbay which freed up space.  Prentice was already at the helm running through the overnight navigation reports.  Harris stepped towards the center chair where the ECH Rachel McKee looked up and stood, “Morning Commander Harris.  Overnight reports are in your inbox.  Nothing unusual to report – power systems are holding and some of our engineering crew got bored and a bit sleepless – they were able to get our warp speed up a few points and ensure our power regulation keeps up with the additional souls on board.”  She cocked her head to the side and the CO knew it was the ‘Is There Anything Else’ look.

“That’ll be all, Lieutenant Commander McKee.  Computer end ECH program.”  The holographic commander faded from view as Harris returned to the center chair, not quite wanting to sit.  His operations chief, Philips, was still out due to his injury but had been stable enough to bunk with his helm and tactical chiefs.  He glanced at his Chrono – Allen wasn’t due on duty until 0900, but he had asked him to shift 0800 given the nature of their current situation.  He turned to Prentice who was awake but a bit bleary-eyed, “Anything to report, ensign?”

Prentice turned in his chair.  He was sure he looked like hell, and he certainly felt it.  Phillips had made the night challenging with his constant shifting, moving, talking, and trying to make everything just right with his pull-out couch that he’d managed to find.  The helm officer didn’t dislike the operations chief, but in tight quarters Prentice was starting to understand the urge to backhand someone.  “Aside from a significant lack of sleep and possibly awareness, nothing at this time.”

The CO commiserated with the officer, “Sickbay onboard a Raven isn’t a place to sleep either if that helps.”

Prentice felt a little better, “It helps to know I’m not alone, commander.”

Ambrose finally took the center chair, “Send a message to Starbase Bravo confirming our arrival and dispensation of our guests.  Let ‘em know we’re going to need some significant repairs.”  His helm officer gave him a thumbs up and went to work.  The CO picked up his PADD and began the process of making a list of what they would need.

USS Erigone – Bridge – 0800

They’d had to drop out of warp a few times due to some nagging warp core issues that were connected to the EPS conduits and a plethora of other issues that the attack by the Romulans had exposed.  As the engineering detachment had woken up and started their list making it had grown to over two PADD pages long and was probably going to hit three by the time they arrived at Bravo in a few minutes.  The communication back from Bravo had been unusually short and simple, leaving Harris to wonder what awaited them when they arrived.  He glanced up to see his Security and Tactical Chief enter the bridge.

Though Roger’s physical appearance was Human, he was half Vulcan, which meant he didn’t need as much sleep. Two NCO engineers slept in his quarters, while Roger spent much of the overnight shift patrolling the ship to ensure there were no problems or security breaches among their guests. Before going on bridge duty, he did get four hours of sleep. Now on the bridge, he nodded to Commander Harris and took his place at the tactical station.

“Good morning, Mr. Allen.  We’re a few minutes from arrival at Starbase Bravo.  Anything to report from your end?”

“No, sir,” said Roger. “I was on watch much of the night and everyone behaved.”

“Dropping out of warp, shifting to impulse within the starbase travel field,” Prentice half yawned and shook his head, “I’m going to need a bucket of coffee to get through today.”

Harris smiled quietly, “I hear they serve it in buckets at a place on Bravo’s promenade.  You get to keep the bucket, even.”  

Prentice turned in his chair, “If that’s true, I have a date with a coffee bucket.”  He chuckled and returned his attention to his station, his eyes going wide, “I think the refugees have arrived at Bravo.  I’m reading…over 100 civilian and Starfleet vessels in this sector alone.  Roger, you seeing this traffic?”

“Confirmed. Looks like we’ll be in a holding pattern for awhile,” said Roger.

The bridge dropped into silence as the reality of the disaster and its impact on the galaxy and universe was becoming apparent.  They’d been isolated in their mission.  The troubles and trials were so much bigger than their Raven class ship.

Harris leaned back in his chair, “Request permission to begin transport and see about scheduling us some dock repair time.”

Prentice nodded as he worked to communicate with Bravo dispatch.  He frowned as he listened in his earpiece and then turned to his CO, “Sir, they’re confirming the transfer of our guests…but they’re saying our dock repair time is denied.”

Ambrose stood, “Do they have a reason why?”

The chief helm officer spoke into his console and listened once more, “They report the Erigone will need significant refit and rebuilding…we’re being reassigned to Starbase Bravo until they make a decision on our next placement.”

“I guess you can go home again,” said Roger with a deep sigh. He wanted so much to serve on a ship, but he was back on the base.

The CO refused to sit down and remained standing, contemplating what he could do.  He could hail whoever was in charge of this decision and aggressively push for an answer.  That might get him a short-term solution but then give him a long-term problem if whoever he harassed held a grudge.  Or he could take the long way home and wait.  The passengers would be transported off, allowing them some time to get the ship cleaned up, and the cots stored.  It was not his preferred method of ending the Erigone’s mission, but it appears he had no choice.

“Very well, start the process of having our guests transported.”  He sat down roughly in the chair, grumbling mostly to himself until Prentice put a hand to his earpiece and spun in his chair, “Commander, I have a priority one hail for you and Lieutenant Reid.  It is to be taken in your quarters…with Sub-Commander Thasaz.”

Ambrose let out a quiet sigh, “And I was just getting comfortable.  Have Doctor Reid and Thasaz meet in my quarters.  Prentice, you have the CONN.”

USS Erigone – Quarters / Ready Room– 0815

The three of them sat in various parts of the two couches and turned to the screen on the wall.  Harris tapped the console and the image of a Starfleet officer appeared, concern running in lines across his brow.  =^=Good morning Commander Harris, Lieutenant Reid, and Sub-Commander Thasaz.  We started working through the data chips you had collected from the ship and the station along with our reports and what information your guest was able to provide…and we are concerned enough that we’re tasking you with investigating this situation further.  Someone is responsible for the attacks on the Pentax and the murder of her crew.  Someone directed a ship to attack you in an attempt to destroy this data or prevent you from speaking out.=^=  The man tapped at his console, =^=The Erigone would be unable to be ready in time.  We’re working to get you and your crew a larger ship assignment within 24 hours…less if I can get out and push the paperwork through.  Sub-commander Thasaz, you will be assigned to this crew as a Romulan advisor with a rank of Lieutenant.  Your orders are being sent as we speak.  The academy and the placement office are working on staffing your crew and officers beyond your existing assignments.  For now, you can remain on the Erigone as you wait for space for her to be parked for a refit and overhaul.  We’ll be in touch.  Starfleet, out.=^=

Harris turned to face the Romulan on the couch, “You want to tell me what that was about?”

Based on the look on her face, she did not.  Her hands played with her fingers until she couldn’t remain silent any longer, “There was a time when I served Starfleet in a…capacity.  It was not known to my crew, or to the Romulan Star Empire as a whole. Presa knew, but only because he had established a connection there as well.”  She lay back on the couch, “It is not what you think, Commander Harris.  You must think us double agents deep in the mires of intrigue.  It was never like that.”

Reid sat forward, a new appreciation and respect for the sub-commander growing, “What was it like?”

Thasaz shrugged, “Information placed at a dead drop here…communication codes sent into a random sector there…we were careful to give only what could be explained away.  They murdered Presa and his crew because they had information…not because they had found out their secret.  The consequences would have been far more dire.”  The Romulan’s voice had become hard as she explained and both Starfleet officers believed her.  “I will serve in the role they have tasked me with…if in service to Starfleet I can stop this madness…or even find the madman that directed this…the dead will have their justice.”  She stood, “May I return to my people and advise them my mission has changed?  That I intend to hunt the murdering ghouls.”

“You are dismissed to do as you need, lieutenant.”  She gave Harris a long look as she walked out the door, and Reid shook her head.

“What in the hell is happening, Commander?  We’re going back out there…to find out who and what all of this is?”

Ambrose chewed on his bottom lip, “Starfleet isn’t about to let some separatist Romulan faction attack a Starfleet vessel for the fun of it.  Given what we’ve uncovered…there’s certainly more to this story…and they wouldn’t send us out again if they didn’t there was something more to this…something that could give a better handle on the players…or even prevent further bloodshed – I know how you feel about that.”

Reid groused, “You know my buttons and levers, Commander.”  A pause as she searched the carpet for answers to her unspoken questions.  She offered one of them, “They did say it was going to be a bigger ship…right?”

The CO shrugged, “It’s not the size that…”

She rolled her eyes as she stood, “I’ve got a sickbay to catalog in anticipation of docking.  You need me, come find me.”  She stalked out of the room, leaving the CO to revel in his silence.

Larakas Colony  – Office – 0700

“The workers in the mines are back to work this morning and our administrators report that the factories’ work remains unaffected.  The public display of the failure of those officers was successful.”  The sub-commander tapped at his tablet, “The fields continue to produce beyond our needs so we are able to continue to store it underground – we have two months of food and materials so far with more to be added.”  He glanced up at his commodore, Patra.  The man was a force of nature.  His age belied his strength and Jasa had watched him nearly tear offenders apart for various failures.  “We have filed our sensor reports for your review and the short-range and long-range communications logs are there as well.”

Patra sat back in his ornate chair, facing away from his underling and watching out the wide windows that looked out onto his colonial world.  It was his.  He would not allow anything to threaten the growing base of power he was cultivating.  He turned in his chair slowly, “Thank you, Sub-Commander Jasa.  You are dismissed.”  A bow and the young man was out the door with it closing behind him but not before his chief security officer stepped into the room.

“Colonel Rexin.  What do you have for me?”

The tall Tal Shiar operative bowed and flexed his broad shoulders that held arms that earned their own legends for the pain they had meted out to friend and foe.  “I have the reports you asked for, Commodore.”  He placed a tablet on the desk and Patra eyed it with indifference.   Rexin continued, “The USS Erigone was, until recently, under the command of a Commander Harris.  His mother is a diplomat, which could prove useful in the future.  They are a very…unsteady crew.  Our information on each of them suggests they were assigned to this small ship as some kind of punishment for stupidity in their duties.”  Patra frowned and Rexin gave a slight shrug, “Harris isn’t even a captain and the rest of them are lieutenants and below.  He was a Chief Engineer until he was transferred to command.  We are rather surprised he has lived as long as he has, but that can be rectified.”

Patra snarled, “Not can…will, Colonel.  They will die, each and every one of them.  They have proven they are willing to ask questions, seek truth, and push their luck.  Ineptitude is the only reason they are alive.  What about the rest of the crew?”

Rexin continued, “Their doctor isn’t a fighter and is averse to fighting.  She could be a weak link.  Or a kidnap possibility.  The helm officer is a hot shot who could be pushed to make mistakes out of anger.  Their security officer isn’t known to us aside from his involvement with that Longfellow situation.  He’s not stupid, so we’ll need to be careful with him.”

Patra growled, “Did we replace that idiot who let the Vulcan women’s mind slip out from our grasp?”

“He escaped our reach and has not been seen or heard from at this time.  When he surfaces, we’ll be waiting.”

A grunt from the commodore, “You said that until recently he was the commander of this…Erigone?  What’s changed?”

Rexin sighed quietly.  He didn’t have ears and eyes everywhere and Starbase Bravo was notoriously challenging to establish a presence.  The security and diplomatic operations were some of the best in the Federation, preventing a strong Tal Shiar foothold.  He had to rely on rumors and second-hand whispers.  “It is unknown – even incompetence can do some damage.  Reports were that they had to stop several times to hold the ship together – and it suggests they may assign Harris and his young crew to something else, possibly a larger starship.”

Patra scoffed, “The Federation always thinks they can throw a bigger rock at a problem.  The trouble for them…is that we have many large rocks…an avalanche of ships to ensure they never get close enough to discover our true purpose.”  He leaned forward, “Task some of our scouts to see what they can see and hear about this Harris and his crew.  You are personally responsible for this, Rexin.  Report only to me.”

The sub-commander saluted crisply, “I will do as you direct, Commodore Patra.”  He was dismissed, leaving Patra to turn in his chair to watch the two suns climb into the sky.  He had many pieces and puzzles at work in the sector and beyond – eventually it would all be his – by bloodshed or by fear.