Captain Fabien Oteng, USS Amazon

Captain Oteng awoke with a start, looking at his darkened surroundings with bleary, sleep-worn eyes. He could not see much in the darkened cabin, so after getting his bearings for a moment, he called out “Computer, lights on, dim setting, about 45% of full.” There was a trilling of the computer, and slowly, the lights turned on. They weren’t too bright, but bright enough that he could see that he was still in the guest quarters of the USS Amazon, the runabout he had borrowed from Starbase Bravo. Before then, he had sought transport on the USS Brisbane from Starbase 1 to Starbase 23, then on the USS Uhura from Starbase 23 to Starbase Bravo.

His mind turned to the beginning of his deployment, after his 6 month leave of absence, when he reported to Starfleet Command’s Operation Division to find out what ship was to be his first command. There, he was met by Commodore Matthew Delaney, who informed Fabien that his first command would be a newly refitted USS Los Angeles (New Orleans class), a ship that was then, undergoing extensive renovations at Starbase 86. Commodore Delaney informed him that his ship was assigned to Task Force 86, Group 25 of Bravo Fleet; once he made it out to Starbase 86, he would be briefed further on his mission and what the fleet needed. Captain Oteng accepted the command, surprised that he was being sent to the frontier of Federation space.

Shaking the thoughts from his sleep-addled mind, Fabien got out of bed and headed to the washroom to freshen up and prepare for the day. The runabout that had been given to him at Starbase Bravo was a VIP transport, with two private modular quarters taking up the space of the modular mission pods; he was grateful for that small blessing, as he had used runabouts before, and the bunks (aside from being uncomfortable) had no privacy. Granted, on this trip, he wasn’t really sharing his runabout with anyone; he was informed upon the Uhura’s arrival to Starbase Bravo that the rest of his senior staff was en route to Starbase 86 through their different means; they would all receive guest quarters on the starbase for a few days before they transferred onto the Los Angeles. Fabien smiled as he looked in the mirror, excited internally at seeing the Los Angeles for the first time once he got there. Turning away from the washroom station, he grabbed his “seabag,” or Starfleet issue duffle bag and pulled out his uniform. He knew that he didn’t “need” to wear his uniform, but it felt weird to NOT wear it. After pressing it, he put it on, and after polishing his shoes (a habit he had carried with him since he was an Ensign), he headed out to the conference room in the aft section of the Amazon for breakfast.

Dr. Kadin Rehman, USS Hopkins

Dr. Rehman attended to his patients during his morning rounds onboard the Starfleet Hospital Ship USS Hopkins, though he was not assigned to the Hopkins permanently. About a week after he was relieved of duty on the Orville, he was summoned to the office of the director of Starfleet Medical. Worried that he was about to get his career handed to him, he had attended with a lot of trepidation. During the meeting, Dr. Rehman was told that he was being reassigned to the USS Los Angeles, currently undergoing a major refit at Starbase 86. The director informed Dr. Rehman that he could take 6 months leave to visit family on Earth, then he would have to report to the USS Hopkins, a hospital ship heading to Starbase 86, as a senior attending physician. Dr. Rehman accepted the assignment, and waltzed out the door, thrilled that he would be serving on a frigate as CMO.

Six months later, Kadin was on a shuttle from his family home in Dubai to Starbase 1, where the Hopkins was preparing to depart for Starbase 86, with the USS Omaha as its escort. He was given one of the larger wards within the Hopkins, excellent practice for running his own sickbay. Because the trip was routine, there wasn’t much to do for the medical staff, so his days were actually spent socializing and having fun with his colleagues. It had been a while since he had served onboard a hospital ship, and because Starfleet wasn’t transporting casualties, the patients he was in charge of were mostly civilians that sought Starfleet treatment due to the lack of treatment on their homeworlds. Even so, the ship was still under capacity, and so once his rounds were completed, he was free.

Surprisingly, the Olympic-class starship managed a relatively brief cruise time to Starbase 86, and soon, Dr. Rehman bid farewell to his colleagues onboard the Hopkins. When he reported to the personnel office onboard Starbase 86, he was pleasantly surprised to find out that he was one of the first (and only) Los Angeles crewmembers that had arrived. The Captain had sent his ETA earlier, and it would be a few days before he arrived by runabout, and most other members were still days out as well, as most were coming from the other side of the quadrant. Kadin was assigned guest quarters to await the arrival of the Captain and other officers.

Commander Brooke Abramov, Starbase 86

Brooke jogged along the habitat ring of the Aurora-class starbase, keeping up their exercise regimen that they had closely cultivated since the academy. Their long hair tied back in a ponytail, she slowed to a walk as they looked at their watch to see what their time was. ‘Damn, nearly beat my personal best for the 3 mile run’ Brooke thought as they stretched and approached the communal replicator, seeking a bottle of cold water. Standing in front of the replicator, they spoke their order: “Computer, one medium-sized hydration bottle filled with cold water.” The computer trilled and did its thing, and soon, a water bottle with the Starfleet logo was in the receptacle. Grabbing and drinking it, she set off toward her guest quarters at a slow walk, enjoying a part of the arboretum as she returned to her section of the habitat ring.

After hopping in the shower and changing into their uniform, Brooke sat down and looked out into space, seeing the constant ballet of ships and transports that went in and out of the station and they started to reminisce about the journey that had led them to await the arrival of Captain Oteng and the rest of the senior staff. While onboard the Midway, Brooke was summoned to Captain Liebenberg’s ready room for what Brooke thought would be a routine command meeting. Once there, however, Captain Liebenberg rather tearfully informed his first officer that they would be transferring to a new ship, one that was currently undergoing a refit at Starbase 86. The Midway, Brooke’s ship, would drop her off at Starbase 86 during a scheduled stop about three days from the day of the meeting, and Brooke would most likely have some time to themselves during the transition.

Captain Fabien Oteng, USS Amazon

Captain Oteng sat at the right seat of the Amazon, inputting commands into the interface, when the comms channel dinged; signaling that he was being hailed. Opening a channel, he heard the standard Starfleet greeting when approaching any Starfleet base.
”Unidentified vessel, you are approaching Starbase 86 controlled space, please identify and respond. Squawk 2277 on the transponder if unable to communicate.”
“Starbase 86 control, this is USS Amazon, Captain Fabien Oteng at the helm. Request permission to dock at Starbase 86.”
“Roger, Captain, transponder received and acknowledged. USS Amazon registry verified. Clear to approach, contact Starbase 86 docking control for further instructions. For the record sir, what is the purpose of your visit here at Starbase 86?”
“I’m here to take command of the USS Los Angeles, the New Orleans class starship that is undergoing a refit.”
“Copy that, sir. Congratulations on your command. Clear to proceed, sir.”
“Thank you…who am I speaking with?”
“This is Lieutenant Lucy Hutcheson, Starbase 86 perimeter control. Have a good day sir, and welcome to Starbase 86.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant Hutcheson. Have a good day.”
Captain Oteng closes the channel and gently rubs his eyes while taking a deep breath. It had been a long trip from Starbase Bravo, but he was anxiously looking forward to having his new command and meeting his staff. He was unaccustomed to having his staff arrive piecemeal, but the wide deployment of his new command staff necessitated certain…flexibilities.

Soon, Starbase 86 started coming into view, and he took a moment to admire the Aurora-class starbase before tapping more commands into the interface, opening a channel to approach control.
“Starbase 86 control, this is USS Amazon, on approach.”
“USS Amazon, Starbase 86 approach control, follow heading and prepare for Pad seven approach, confirm craft is Danube-class runabout.”
“Starbase 86 approach control, USS Amazon, I copy instructions; preparing for Pad seven approach.”
“Confirmed, Amazon, we have you on sensors. Free to proceed, Captain.”“Copy that, control. Good day.”

Onboard the station…

The senior staff officers of the Los Angeles all gathered around one of the conference rooms of the Starbase, with the window overlooking the main spacedock facility and above all, looking over the USS Los Angeles, which was still being worked on, even at this late hour. The Senior Staff had been very talkative, getting to know each other, though when the doors opened and Captain Oteng walked into the room, everyone fell silent and stood at attention. Years of Starfleet experience taught all the officers to give the proper respect to the commanding officer when he walked in.
“Keep your seats, everyone. Thank you for being here…” Fabien said as he walked toward the head of the table. Everyone else sat down right as he arrived at the head of the table and sat down himself. “My name is Captain Fabien Oteng” he began in his rich Rwandan accent. “I’m very happy to be here today. Starting from the right, please say your name and position. You may say your rank if you so desire.”
“Brooklyn Abramov, First Officer.”
“Leo Spencer, Tactical Officer and your Chief of Security.”
“Siobhan Pearse, your Chief of Operations.”
“Eloísa Aranda, Chief Engineer.”
“Dr. Kadin Rehman; though you may call me Dr. Rehman or Kadin…I’m the Chief Medical Officer.”
“Thank you everyone. Normally, introductions and staff meetings would be done onboard ship, but Starbase Ops has said that the Los Angeles will not be ready until later this evening. Commander Abramov, I would like to get underway tomorrow by 1000 hours, please ensure that we’re ready then.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Additionally, I would like to conduct the formal command possession ceremony tomorrow at 0800 on the bridge of the Los Angeles.”
“I’ll speak with Starbase Operations. We’ve spent quite a time here at Starbase 86, and we’re ready and raring to go.”
Murmurs of assent and agreement ripple out.
“Alright everyone. I’m pleased that we’re all here, and I’m excited to work with you. Commander, I’d like you to stay; I’d like to brief you on the mission. Everyone else, thank you for coming. Dismissed.”
The senior officers stood up and began filing out, though Brooke stayed seated, looking out toward the ships in spacedock.
“Well, Brooklyn, thank you for staying.” Fabien turned toward his First Officer, and smiled kindly. “Looks like we’re stuck with each other. I wanted to brief you about our mission this patrol.”
Brooke’s attention turned back to her commanding officer. “We have a mission this patrol?” Their expression commanded surprise, as they had understood that this first cruise was just a shakeout.
“Yes, I’m afraid we do. The situation in the Triangle is getting more untenable by the month, and Starfleet wants as many ships of the line to be on patrol.” He handed them a PADD, with the relevant intelligence reports. Then, he continued. “Granted, Starfleet is giving us discretion on how we proceed during this first mission. The Los Angeles is untested and her crew is realtively new; I don’t want to run the gauntlet if we don’t have to.”
Brooke nodded in agreement. “I agree sir. Caution is heavily warranted.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Well, Captain, I believe we should limit our patrol to the areas outside the Triangle. We can run interdiction and ensure that smugglers don’t bring in weapons and other contraband.”
“I agree wholeheartedly, Commander. Let’s meet on the bridge of the Los Angeles at 0730 hours tomorrow. That way we can get ready to get the blazes out of spacedock.”
“Aye sir. I’ll inform the crew.”
“Thank you Brooke.” He extended his hand to them. “It will be a pleasure to serve with you.”
They took his hand and shook it. “Aye sir, the pleasure is all mine.”
Brooke stood at attention and then left the room, leaving Captain Oteng to contemplate his new command through the window.

0800 Hours: Bridge, USS Los Angeles

Captain Oteng sat in the center chair, with Commander Abramov next to him to his right; both were facing the viewscreen. The other officers were at their posts, all of them engaged in preparing to have the ship depart spacedock. Captain Oteng then stood up, and sounded the boatswain whistle, signifying a shipwide announcement. Everyone on the bridge looked up from their posts and they saw that both Captain Oteng and Commander Abramov were in the center, with Lt. Commander Pearse and Lt. Muthoni sat in front, at Ops and Helm. These two officers stood up, and turned to face the two senior officers. Everyone stood at attention, and the Chief of Operations, Siobhan, walked up to Captain Oteng and started the command possession ceremony.
“Captain Oteng, what is your business on the USS Los Angeles?”
“On orders of Starfleet Command, I have arrived to take command of the USS Los Angeles, with orders signed by Admiral T’elani, Deputy Chief of Starfleet Operations.” He hands her the PADD, containing the official orders.
“Orders are legitimate and verified with Admiral’s verification code. Captain, place your hand on the biometric access panel.”
He does so, and the computer trills and beeps.
“Captain Oteng, you and your command have been verified. The USS Los Angeles is yours, sir, by order of Starfleet Command. on stardate 77602.0. It is so noted in the Ship’s log, sir.”
“Thank you Ms. Pearse. I wish to introduce my first officer as a command officer.”
“By all means, sir. Commander Abramov, if you would place your hand on the biometric panel?”
Brooke walks up to the panel and places her hand on it.
“Commander Brooklyn Abramov has been verified as the Los Angeles’ first officer on stardate 77602.0.”
“Thank you, Lt. Commander.” Brooke steps away from the panel.
“Ms. Pearse, I wish to introduce you as the Los Angeles’ second officer.”
“Aye sir.” She places her hand on the biometric panel.
“Lieutenant Commander Siobhan Pearse has been verified as the Los Angeles’ second officer on stardate 77602.0. Captain, all command officers of the Los Angeles have been registered and approved. Congratulations, sir.”
“Thank you, Ms. Pearse. All hands, please prepare for departure and resume stations. I would like to get out of here in a timely fashion.”
A chorus of “Aye, sir!” and “Yes, sir!” rings out. Fabien turns back to his center chair and begins customizing the layout of the consoles to fit his needs.

0955 Hours: Bridge, USS Los Angeles

The ship is abuzz with activity. The bridge is fully staffed, everyone on station, and the Captain and First Officer are at their places in the center. Fabien looks at Brooke, and with a nod, they indicate the ship is ready to leave spacedock for the first time.
“Brooklyn, it’s been a lovely morning. Are we ready to go?”
“Well Captain, our food stores and replicators are fully charged and ready, our supplies are all checked out, Eloísa reported to me that all systems are nominal and ready for departure. In short sir, we’re ship-shape and Bristol fashion.”
“Very good. Leo, contact Starbase departure, inform them that the USS Los Angeles is ready for departure. Eloísa, please do us the honors of turning on the ship.”
“Aye sir, initializing dilithium reaction into the warp core. Systems coming online…the Los Angeles is awake, sir!”
“Aye sir, contacting Starbase departure control.” He taps and speaks with control, while the other stations prepare for departure.
“Attention, bridge officers! Sound off, go/no-go for departure. Starting with ops.”
“Ops is go, sir.”
“Helms is go, sir.”
“Tactical and security is go, sir.”
“Engineering is go.”
“All departments report go, we are good to go.”
“Thank you Brooklyn. Leo, what’s the word from control?”
“Sir, they’re reporting that there’s a small fleet coming back from the triangle. There may be delays in departing spacedock.”
“Just make sure you keep me in the loop. Hopefully, delay is not too significant. In the meantime, let’s prepare to get underway. Brooke?”
“I agree.” She presses a few buttons on her armchair, sounding the boatswain’s whistle that usually preceded a ship-wide announcement.
“Attention all hands. This is Captain Fabien Oteng. Prepare for spacedock departure.”
“Channel closed, sir.”
“Thank you. Go to blue alert, secure all airlocks, and cast off mooring beams.”
The bridge lights are dimmed and everyone is bathed in the blue glow of the alert.
“Captain, airlocks read sealed and mooring beams are secured. We’re ready for departure, soon as we’re given clearance.”
“Great, thank you.”
“Captain, we have clearance from departure control.”
“Great! Miss Muthoni, please take us out, maneuvering thrusters only. Slow and steady, Lieutenant.”
“Aye sir, pulling ahead, thrusters only.”
The ship slowly began moving out of its docking bay under its own power for the first time in years. She looked brand new, inside and out, and more than a few people in the Starbase turned to look at the Los Angeles depart. She looked graceful, fully illuminated, with her nacelles all lit up in preparation for her first warp test.

Soon after the Los Angeles cleared the doors, she turned slightly, toward the area known as the triangle. She hadn’t left the area completely yet, but she was in space, and her systems were all operational. Finally, the news Fabien had been waiting for arrived.
“Captain, we’re clear of the Starbase area; we are clear to go to warp at your command.”
“Very good, Lieutenant. Set course for the Triangle, warp 4.”
“Warp 4, aye sir.

The Los Angeles turned, then glowed, and jumped to warp, disappearing into the stars on her first mission for Starfleet.

The Los Angeles hummed gently as she moved through the system at sub-light speeds. On the bridge, Commander Abramov is sitting at the captain’s chair, looking at the PAAD they are working on for the new duty roster. They occasionally tap on the PAAD, making adequate changes. For a moment, though, Brooke looks up from her PAAD and scans the bridge. Every officer assigned to the bridge on Charlie Shift is focused on their work, carrying forward a straightforward patrol of the area. Starfleet Command orders were that the Los Angeles carry forward an interdiction patrol, stopping and searching vessels in the area to ensure that Federation law was upheld. Though the ship had stopped a few ships, there was nothing to report and the stops were more than routine. That pattern, however, was about to end; the Los Angeles was about to step into something that would eventually untangle a twisted web of criminal activity and illegality.

A small alert began to blip on the OPS console. The Ensign in charge of the OPS chair began to tap away, presumably seeking additional information before moving on. The proximity alert had gone off, but the ship classification and registry were not available. This usually indicated a problem with the sensors and computer tie-ins, but sometimes, it was because the ship transponder was switched off. Ensign Thorne sent a message to Engineering, requesting a check on the Los Angeles’ sensors and computer tie-ons. After a few minutes, the message came back: We tried looking, but everything checks out. Maybe their transponder is off-line? The message confirmed his suspicions – it was a suspicious ship, possibly running something they weren’t supposed to, in an area that Starfleet already had many issues in. One of the duties of the Los Angeles was enforcement interdiction, and it was time to alert his superior officer. The Ensign spoke up.
“Commander, we have an unidentified vessel, moving on a parallel course to us. Its transponder appears to be off.”
“Show me Ensign” Brooke says as they stand up to see the console for themselves.
“See here, Commander? This ship outline here, isn’t giving us the normal returns that it does.”
“Yes, I can see that, Ensign.” Brooke turned back toward the rest of the bridge officers on watch.“Lieutenant, summon the senior officers and the Captain to the bridge. We may have to conduct a stop.”
“Aye, Commander.” The Lt. taps a few buttons on her console. “Senior Bridge Staff to the Bridge. All Senior Bridge Staff to the Bridge.” She takes a breath. “Commander, ship-wide announcement made.”

Brooke took a breath before they responded. They just looked around the bridge and sighed, then looked out at the view screen. In that moment, the sliding doors opened, and the entire Command staff (save for the Chief Medical Officer and Chief Engineer) walked onto the bridge. The relief crew stood up and started to make for the turbolifts to head down to the other decks.
“Commander, what’s going on?” Captain Oteng asks as he makes for his chair, tea cup in hand.
“Well, Captain, we have a ship that’s running dark on a direct intercept course, no information to be had about this ship.”
“That is interesting, indeed. Miss Pearse, do we have sufficient cause to stop the vessel?”
“Well, Captain, it depends. So far, we haven’t tried to communicate with it, or make our presence well known. The vessel could have a malfunction; so I recommend that we try communicating to it, and seeing if they respond.”
“I concur, Miss Pearse. I think we should send a hail, then use the second best communication method…a torpedo to signal our intent.”
“Aye sir, hailing now.” Lt. Spencer verbally acknowledges without being given an order by the Captain, indicative of his proactive methods that endeared him to most of the senior officers he had been under.
“No response sir. On any standard Federation frequency. Let me try a few others.”
He taps the console, and shakes his head. “Captain, they have not responded. Also, Asi, you noticing this? They’re changing course.”
“Way ahead of you Leo; changing course to intercept.”
“Captain, I would go ahead and fire. It’s time.”
“Right you are, Miss Pearse. Mr. Spencer, would you do us the honors?”
“Aye sir. Firing now.”
The torpedo leaves the pod and streaks toward the fleeing ship, exploding in a brilliant flash of light in front of the vessel.
“Attention unidentified vessel. This is the Federation Starship Los Angeles. Heave to, and prepare to be boarded. Signal compliance by slowing to one-third impulse or respond to our hail.”
Captain Oteng looks around the bridge as the crew continues tapping on consoles.
“Sir, we’re getting a response on our hail.”
“Excellent. On screen, please.”

The viewscreen changes from an exterior shot of the vessel to the interior, what presumably was the bridge. Visible was what Captain Oteng thought was a Vulcan male, about 45 years old in human terms, wearing a blue jumpsuit with what presumably was his name written in faded white letter script.
“Starfleet vessel, I’m T’Jonn, master of this craft. We were conducting repairs and so we missed your communiques. My apologies.”“Captain T’Jonn, thank you for your response. I’m Captain Fabien Oteng, of the USS Los Angeles. We noticed your vessel running in blackout conditions…and I, for one, would love to know why.”
“Well, Captain, my transponder has not really been functional as of late. Seeing as we’re a civilian vessel, it shouldn’t matter.”
“Well…T’Jonn; it very much does matter. This corridor is known for smuggling and contraband trade. Starfleet has spent the last few years cracking down on the illicit trade in this area. Do you have your manifest declaration, by chance?”
Captain Oteng stands up and heads to the tactical station. “If you do have it, please transmit now.”
T’Jonn looks around, presumably at the other crew members before responding.
“Ummm…well, yes, we do have it…Uhhh…I’ll have my first officer send it to you, when we find it.”
“Captain, do you have the manifest?”
“Yeah, of course we do.”
“Then please send it over now.”
“We would like to cooperate, it’s just that our manifest is on a PAAD and we need to find it.”
“Your manifest is on a PAAD…” Captain Oteng repeats it incredulously. “Captain, I’m not sure whether your ship is disorganized or whether you’re trying to mislead me, but either way, I do not like what is happening. I’m sending over a few of my officers for an inspection.”
“Captain Oteng…Oteng, right? Captain, that’s not necessary. We just need a little more time!” The panic in his voice was starting to bleed through, and at that point, there was an exchange of looks amongst the bridge crew. Something was amiss.
“No, Captain T’Jonn. We’re conducting an official inspection of your vessel. There are too many unknowns here. Prepare for our arrival. Los Angeles out.” The Captain then turns to his first officer.
“Commander, why don’t you take Miss Pearse, Mr. Spencer, and a contingent of security officers…use the Catalina (Type-11 Shuttle) and go see what the hell is going on.”
“Aye sir.” They stand up and and begin walking towards the turbolift. “Siobhan, Thomas, with me.” The selected officers then get into the turbolift, and are awfully silent as the turbolift descends to the appropriate deck. No one relishes this kind of boarding action, but sometimes it has to be done. Finally, after what seems an eternity, Brooke pipes up.
“We’re going to get our equipment then we’re going to the shuttle.”
“What equipment are we getting? An interrogator kit?” Tom asks dryly as the turbolift slows.
Brooke laughs. “Cute, Lieutenant. Very funny. No, we’re getting our phasers. And maybe tricorders.”
“Awww, no fun.”
Brooke rolls her eyes as she leads the three bridge officers down the corridor to the weapons locker. After grabbing the kit that they need, the three officers chat as they walk, the tension having been broken.

The three security officers are milling about by the shuttle, their phaser rifles on their shoulder. As soon as they see the three officers, they stand at attention.
“At ease. Have you all been briefed on the mission?”
“Yes, Commander. It’s a standard inspection and search.”
“That’s right. We’re going to be inspecting the vessel. So make sure the crew is gathered in one central location, and wait for instructions.”
“Aye, ma’am.”
“Alright. Let’s mount up.”
Everyone piles into the shuttle and it smoothly departs the shuttlebay, looping around the the Los Angeles before the target ship came into view. As the shuttle prepares to dock, everyone checks their weapons. They don’t know what they’re stepping in to, but everyone knows that these types of boardings are unpredictable.

Asa fiddled with her collar as she walked down the brightly lit corridor after exiting the turbolift. A few minutes before, Commander Abramov had pulled Asa aside and gave her an order to report to the holodeck, forthwith. She wasn’t sure why she was being asked to report.

Asa walked into the holodeck, seeing others gathered that she assumed were also ordered to report. The assembled members were all from differing departments. She didn’t know them all, but recognized most: Crewman Nash, the “starstruck” crewman from Astrometrics; Lt. Wilson, the “resident” doctor under CMO Dr. Rehman; and Petty Officer Elioisa, the Vulcan propulsion specialist who had helped her eke out faster response times on the ship’s helm. There were two others whom she didn’t recognize, one in the grey uniform of the special services division and the other in sciences blue.

As Asa greeted her friends, she heard the door open again, meaning that someone else had just walked in, but didn’t pay attention as she caught up with Wilson, Eli, and Nash. A tap on the shoulder slightly startled her, and she turned around to see her shipboard best friend, Petty Officer Walters. Asa let out a small squeal (eliciting chuckles and snickers from the assembled crewmembers) as she gave Walters a hug. 
“Fancy seeing you here!” Asa squealed out with delight. 
“Well, as if I had a choice. I was ordered here by Lt. Spencer.” Walters responds, her tone delighted but also confused. At this, others piped in. 
“I was ordered to report by Commander Aranda” Elioisa chimes in, her Vulcan tone very evident.
“Dr. Rehman said I was needed in the holodeck,” Wilson contributes as everyone is confused.

Just as the crewmembers were starting to exchange confusion, a person in the 2230’s uniform variant appears; bald with a neat walrus-style mustache. And a serious expression that meant business. Asa has no clue who he could possibly, be, but Walters whispers to her something. 
“What?” Asa responds quietly, not wanting to draw attention to herself. Or her friend. 
“That looks like Isagi Saroga. He was, like, the security officer for all of Starfleet.” Walters speaks up a little. 
“No idea who that is, Tasha…” Asa responds with a pause after her words. 
“Ugh, you need to study your history…” Walters responds in a playful tone before his voice interrupts the two.
“This will do. Crew, at attention!”  
His voice is stern, authoritative. Years of rigid training suddenly overcome the social atmosphere, and everyone stands at attention. 
“Crew, fall in!” 
Everyone forms a line, standing at attention. Asa looks straight ahead, her mind racing with questions.

“I am the Tactical Training Hologram (TTH), designed to train Starfleet Officers to work together, cross-departmentally, and under the most difficult situations imaginable. If this training is being implemented, that means that it will likely be the worst day of your careers.” He smiles for a moment, then continues. “Fortunately, today will not be that. Today will be about ensuring that all of you are prepared to respond. Does everyone understand?”

A multitude of “Yes, sir!” rings out, all crewmembers speaking perfectly in unison.

“Excellent. To begin, you will introduce yourselves to me, and to each other. Rank, last name, department. We will start with you.” The TTH points to PO Walters. 
“PO Walters, Security.” 
“LT Muthoni, Bridge Officer.”
“LT Wilson, Medical.”
“PO Elioisa, Engineering.”
“CN Nash, Astrometrics.”
“CPO Petry, Mess Hall.”
“ENS Parks, Medical.” 
The TTH nods with approval. 
“Very good. I noticed some of you know each other, others of you don’t. That’s okay. Today, you will learn to work as a team. In a moment, I will give you the scenario, then the holodeck will transform, and I will be team member number 8. After the conclusion of the scenario, I will give you feedback, and after a short break, we will run another, similar scenario to see how you learned. Does this make sense?”
“Yes, sir!” All speak in unison. 
“Excellent! Now, one more piece before we begin. Who are the two highest ranking officers here?”
Asa and Lt. Wilson raise their hands. 
“Ah. LT Muthoni and LT Wilson. Step forward, please. Between the two of you, choose who will be team lead. We will switch for the second scenario, so it does not matter.” 
Asa turns to Lt. Wilson. “Want to lead first?” she offers with a knowing smile. 
“Oh hell no. You first. I’m a doctor, not a captain.” Lt. Wilson returns Asa’s knowing smile with one of his own.
“Dammit, Dee, fine.” She gives him a look, then turns to the TTH. “I will take lead first, then LT Wilson.” 
“Very good. You are team lead, Lt. Wilson. Choose your second.” 
Asa looks around. “I choose PO Walters.” 
“Very good. Now, your scenario.” The TTH turns and a holographic map display appears with the location of the Los Angeles marked with a red Starfleet delta. “Your ship is presently here,” as he points to the red mark on the holographic map, “in the old neutral zone with the Cardassian-Dominion government. Starfleet Command has briefed your Captain that there is an uptick in terrorist incidents all along the border colonies and has ordered a patrol in that sector. While patrolling, your starship comes across a transport vessel that is not answering to hails. After disabling it, your Captain orders you and your team to board the vessel, clear it, and obtain intelligence. Good luck.”

The holodeck changes into a dimly lit corridor, bathing the members assembled in the glow of the red-alert lights. Asa looks around before shaking her head and taking charge. 
“Alright, listen up. We’re going to beam in and we’re probably not going to be welcome. Umm…let’s head to the armory, get some weapons. Tasha, lead the way.” 
The team follows PO Walters straight to the armory, a few doors down in that corridor. After entering the room, PO Walters and ENS Parks begin handing out the rifles. Once everyone readies their weapons and conducts the appropriate checks, Asa leads the team to the transporter room. She taps on her combadge. 
“Bridge, HSRT ready. Energize.”

The team materializes into an empty space onboard the freighter, where alarms rang out and sparks flew, indicating a damaged ship. Asa immediately relied on her (limited) combat training and leveled her phaser. Taking a step, she turns back and faces her team. 
“Okay, here’s what we’ll do. We’re splitting into two teams of four. Team 1 will have myself, Wilson, Petry, and uhh…you.” She points to the TTH, who smiles. “Call me CPO Saroga, for the purposes of the exercise.” 
“Great. Second team, Walters, Nash, Parks, and Eli.” 
“Team 1 will get the bridge, Team 2, engineering. Make sure to clear rooms and compartments. Be safe.” 
The individuals nod, then form up in their teams. Asa in lead, forms her team up and the four begin moving. As soon as the door opens, they are met with a minor explosion, and phaser fire. Being momentarily stunned, Team 1 falls back, and Team 2 returns fire as the doors open. Regaining her bearings, Asa looks to the other members. 
“Everyone okay?” she calls out. 
“Owwww…just peachy!” Wilson calls out. 
“Yep!” Saroga responds. 
“Damn! We’re good!” Petry responds. 
Asa regains her bearings, then shakes her head. Now that everyone was good, she started firing at the individuals, causing them to duck behind hastily assembled shields. “Alright, move, move!” she shouted to her team.

Team 2 had long since vacated, as their destination was down a different corridor. Asa continued returning fire, successfully hitting one of the opponents. Slowly, the other members’ volley pushed their opponents back, and soon, the hallway was clear. Asa slowly moved forward, checking every space in between for more booby traps. Progress was steady, but really slow. Saroga (TTH) came up behind her and tapped on her shoulder. 
“Everything okay, LT? We should move faster.” 
“Uhhh…that…yes.” Asa is flustered, completely out of her element. 
“Alright, let’s advance. Left side?” 
“Left Side clear” Petry advises. 
“Right side?” 
“Right side clear” Wilson responds. 
She picks up the pace, coming to the junction. Her team splits down the middle, ready to check left and right for targets. 
“Ready…and check!” 
Both she and Wilson round the corner to see no one guarding the intersection on either side. 
“Clear right!” Asa calls out. 
“Clear left!” Wilson affirms. 
The team continues in its split formation, rounding to the left to head to the bridge. As they move, Asa notices a strange laser beam near the floor. A trap! She immediately puts up her fist, the universal symbol for stop in a combat situation. She slowly turns to her team. 
“Trap ahead. I saw the laser beam…any ideas?” 
Her team members look at each other, puzzled. This is normally a job for combat engineers, and none of them felt qualified to deal with them. Finally, Lt. Wilson spoke up. 
“Asa, I’ve tinkered around with stuff…let me take a crack at it. Chief, would you mind assisting me?”
“Not at all. Just tell me what you want me to do. Although you’re not the only one who’s messed around with stuff.” Chief Petry chuckles as the two take their place at the device. The two whisper and begin disassembling the improvised device. Suddenly, from another corner, a phaser beam flies over the heads of the team, showering sparks on them. Asa returns fire, along with CPO Saroga (TTH). The cover fire sends the two culprits diving for cover, and an intense exchange of fire begins. 
“Are you two almost done?” Asa whispers urgently, her voice fraught with anxiety and adrenaline. 
“Almost…just decoupling something…patience!” 
“Yeah, easy for you to say, you’re not the one getting shot at.” 
“One more wire…and…there! We’re good!” 
“Good, grab your rifle and shoot back!” Asa shot back at Lt. Wilson. 
“Right!” 
The combined effect of the team’s firepower finally drove back the two individuals, and they retreated. The team kept moving when Asa’s combadge chirped. 
“Lt. Muthoni, Los Angeles here. Do you read?” 
“Affirmative, Captain.”
“Status?”
“Almost at the bridge sir. Team 2 is headed to engineering. We’re facing heavy resistance.”
“Copy that. Scans detect two raiders moving our direction. Time to intercept, guesstimating 20 minutes. You have 15 to get the information and get out.”
“Aye, Sir. Setting 15-minute countdown.” 
“Los Angeles, out.”
Asa tapped her combadge again. 
“Muthoni to Walters.”
“Walters here.” 
“Status?”
“We’re outside engineering. These nuchs barricaded themselves so we’re breaching.”
“Copy. Cap gave us 15 mins to do what we must do. Then we’re out.”
“Copy that. Walters out.”
Asa continued moving through, having her team clear each intersection. Finally, Team 1 arrives at the bridge compartment. Asa puts up her fist, then turns to her team. 
“Instructions for breaching…I’ll head in first, then Chief Petry, then you, and Chief Saroga, you have our back. The doors don’t seem like they’re blocked, but we should watch out for what’s coming. Assume positions. We breach on three.” 
Everyone gets into position, dividing themselves to avoid sticking in the middle. On Asa’s third count, the doors open and…a frenzy of phaser beams meet them. The team returns fire, but on this, Chief Petry is hit by a beam and falls, the wind knocked out of her. Saroga covers her with a tactical slide, shouting “Medic!” as he tries to engage the combatants. Lt. Wilson immediately turns around, and dives for the deck, crawling his way through as he was taught in combat medic school. By the time he gets to Chief Petry, she is coughing and trying to recover. 
“You okay, Petry? Take slow, deep breaths.” Lt. Wilson realizes he doesn’t have his medkit, or any tools. 
“I’m…I’m fine…just…ow! Those beams hurt!”
“Steady. Take slow breaths. You’re okay.” 
“Yeah…ugh, don’t know how I’ll explain the giant bruise to my wife. She’s not going to be happy.”
“Well, it’s okay. At least it was only a bruise.”
Meanwhile, Asa and Chief Saroga have subdued the crew members on the bridge by shooting them or forcing them to surrender. Asa doesn’t waste any time; she begins transmitting all data logs back to the Los Angeles. 
“HSRT to Los Angeles.”
“Go ahead.”
“We’ve managed to secure the bridge. Transmitting all data to you now.”
“Copy. There’s about 5 minutes left before I’m pulling you out. Get all you can, and secure prisoners for transport.”
“Aye, Sir.” 
Asa then taps her combadge again. 
“Team 1 to Team 2. Status?”
“Walters here. We’ve got engineering. The ship is ours. There’s a small bomb-making factory here.”
“Take pictures, then beam back. We’ll wrap up here.”
“Copy that. We’ll try to secure evidence.”
“Do so quickly. Cap says we have five mins left.”
“Yep. Walters out.”

Asa starts reading through the logs, noting that there are several high value targets the terrorists are planning to strike, including Starfleet Headquarters. She transmits all the logs to the starship, then prepares to beam all prisoners over. 
“HSRT to Los Angeles. Ready to beam out.”
“Copy. Standing by.”
Asa again taps her combadge. 
“Muthoni to Walters.”
“Walters here.”
“Ready to exit?”
“We’re already back on the Los Angeles.”
“Copy. See you soon.”
“Los Angeles, do you read?”
“Yes we do.”
“Seven to energize.”
“Energizing.”

As Asa beams back into the transporter room, the room shimmers and disappears, leaving only the individuals and the TTH. Asa breathes a sigh of relief, wiping sweat off her forehead. 
‘That…was one of the most stressful things I’ve ever done. I hope I never have to do that again. Holy hell’ she thinks to herself as she breathes in to steady her nerves. 
The TTH looks at the members of the crew. 
“Very well done, ladies and gentlemen. You performed above and beyond my expectations. Lt. Muthoni, well done on being team lead. You did a superb job, even if you forgot to check your first door for explosives. Remember folks, out here, mistakes can cost you dearly. Had that been a real bomb, you may not have been here to tell the story.”
Asa pipes up, a bit annoyed. 
“Wait a minute, how was I supposed to know there was a booby trap on the door. It was just a door!”
“Excellent question. Did you not see the laser emitter on the side of the door seams? It was there.”
Asa suddenly realized that the door hadn’t been smooth, but rather it had a small box by the seam. The TTH was right.
“Next time, look at the schematics. Preparation will save your life in these situations. Other than that mishap, you completed the mission with one casualty. Well done, all of you. I am gratified that you all embraced teamwork.” The TTH took a “breath.” “Alright, let’s take 15, and we’ll meet back here. LT Wilson, you’re going to be our team lead, so prepare accordingly. Dismissed!”

Asa leaves the holodeck, and heads to the mess hall, processing the experience.

The three officers triple-checked their phasers as the civilian vessel grew larger in their view ports. “45 seconds!” the young Ensign called out as they approached the docking port. Siobhan, outfitted in her duty Starfleet uniform with both a type-2 phaser and type 3 phaser rifle, began powering them up and preparing them for use.

In her mind, this was the most dangerous part of any mission…she never knew what she was going to find soon as the airlock opened. It could be friendly faces, or it could be disruptor blasts. Nonetheless, she had a job to do and do it she would. As the shuttle gets closer to the docking ring, the pilot calls out the timing.
“Five seconds out! Prep for boarding!”

Final equipment checks are made as a dull thud and clunking is heard, the telltale sound of a successful hard dock.

Phasers are levelled at the door as the airlock hisses, pressurizing the area between the two doors with breathable air. A click, and the panel illuminated green, indicating safe to open the hatch.

“Let’s go. Stay liquid!” CPO Pria calls out, as the members of the “Initial Boarding Team” level their phaser rifles at the door, ready to fire at a moment’s notice.

As the hatch opens, an eerie silence fills the shuttle cabin. The boarding party proceeds to clear the vessel, deck by deck, though the vessel deck seemed eerily empty to the boarding team. Siobhan brought up the rear, sweeping through the corridors, ensuring that no one snuck up behind the team.

Though not her usual position, she had been received some tactical training on boarding suspect ships, though she still felt out of her element. Her mind began to wander to other places, mainly about how much work she had left to catch up on. Being the ranking JAG officer onboard, her caseload was immense, and that was in addition to her operations duties on the Bridge. It had been a long week and… a shout brought her back to the present.
“Commander! Look out!”
Siobhan turned to look, just as a disrupter blast hit the bulkhead above her. Throwing herself to the deck, she activated her rifle and began slowly crawling to cover.
“This is Petty Officer Walters from the Starfleet Ship Los Angeles. Cease fire and lay down your arms!”
The only response is more disrupter fire. Siobhan, during a lull in the blasts, returns fire with her phaser.
“Tasha, how many are there? Do we know?”
“At least four. Based on the pattern of disrupter fire…I think!” Petty Officer Walters turns and fires her rifle several times, suppressing the enemy fire. “Crewman, move!”

As PO Walters fires, one of the members of the boarding team advances down the corridor to a more tactically advantageous position.
“Suppressing fire!!” The crewman calls out as he sprays phaser fire down the corridor, allowing the other members to move up.

An enemy pops his head up, thinking the barrage of phaser fire is over and he can return fire. He is rewarded with a blast of phaser fire to his chest, knocking him out. The remaining hostiles throw their disrupters on the floor and call out: “We’re putting our weapons down.”
PO Walters slowly stands from her position, phaser rifle aimed directly at the three.
“Turn around! Hands on your head, interlace your fingers.”
The three individuals comply and are soon zip tied and in custody.

The team leaves the Crewman to guard the four individuals (including the unconscious person) while the rest of the team sweep the place to ensure that there are no other “surprises.”

At the bridge, the boarding team found three more individuals, but these didn’t put up a fight. After detaining the full crew (and gathering them into one place), an exhaustive search of the vessel was conducted. During the sweep of the aft cargo hold, a secret holding area was discovered, stacked full of counterfeit Starfleet phaser rifles. In total, 30 crates were found, with eight rifles per crate; the seizure, once totaled, numbered about 240 rifles. The crew of the smuggling vessel was arrested for smuggling illegal weapons and transported aboard the Los Angeles.

Siobhan knew she was in for a long day of paperwork.