Captain’s Personal Log, Stardate 77594.03. Captain Thaddeus Scott, commanding.

 

It’s been two years to the day since I assumed command of Venture following the untimely death of Captain Qarvez during a climbing expedition on his homeworld of Benzar. While many continue to mourn the loss of their friend, I find myself reminded of the fortunate hand dealt to me, whether by fate or divine intervention. Two years ago to the day, Aries put in for repairs at Starbase Bravo and I found myself presented with the opportunity to assume command of this fine vessel and her crew. Those years have come and gone in the blink of an eye, but I find myself dwelling on the events of the last six months.

 

Whether it be riding out the spatial phenomenon we now call the Century Storm, and dealing with its aftermath, or the calamitous fall out from the Romulan Star Navy’s coup on Rator, Venture has been on the front line of it all. But now, we find ourselves presented with a new challenge. No longer shall we put out brush fires or ferry stuffy old men to barter away a planet’s resources. Today, we have a new job. A job everyone joins Starfleet for. A job everyone desires.

 

Today, we become explorers…

On the eve of every assignment he had received from command since assuming the mantle as master of the starship Venture, Thaddeus Scott trampled the decks of his ship at random, conducting a tour of the ship in an effort to gauge the mood of his people.

‘His people.’ He had put in a lot of work to be able to call this crew ‘his’ following the death of their beloved Captain Qarvez, having to win over the hearts and minds of all aboard. Qarvez had been with some of them their entire careers, having been in command of Venture for nine years at the time of his passing. Even today, two years on from his passing, Thaddeus could still sense his predecessor’s spirit lingering on, reminding him that he could never stop working to earn the respect and admiration of a family that had been together for some time. Even with several departures over the years, including just recently, some of the crew still struggled with the memory of their previous commander.

‘Do you remember when Qarvez…’ or ‘Qarvez wouldn’t have done it like that…’ Just two statements that he still heard, even to this day. No one did it to hurt his feelings of course, but it still got to him from time to time. But Thaddeus Scott hadn’t got to where he was by being a timid little lamb that let every little reminder get to him. No, he had got to the echelons of command by being calm, calculated and, where necessary, ruthless. A ruthlessness he had shown in the last month when he shipped out the last remaining senior staff from the days of Qarvez, and replaced them with his own people. In the two years that had followed, Scott had seamlessly transitioned out eight senior officers to pastures new, encouraging them to apply for promotions, recommending them to other captains and postings, or down right promoting them himself in an effort to cleanse his senior team and make it his own.

It wasn’t to be cruel, or unkind. It wasn’t to disrespect the memory of his predecessor. It was necessary to establish his authority on this ship and its crew, and it had been a long term project. He expected that the same had taken place aboard the Aries when he had left, having been in command there for seven years himself. In truth, if he could have moved his entire staff with him from Aries, he would have, but that had not been an option. So, he’d had to be calculating and ruthless in his decision making. One didn’t get to be a commanding officer of one of Starfleet’s premier explorers by shirking the tough calls.

Calculating. Ruthless. Necessary.

Tonight, as he patrolled deck three, was the first time he truly felt the absence of his predecessor and felt like the ship was his. Perhaps that had something to do with the fact they were no longer finishing the tour of duty that had begun under Qarvez’s command. Today, as they warped towards Starbase Eleven at great speed, they were to embark on a new tour of duty, their first long term mission since the ship’s construction. A mission they had all been waiting for. A mission of long term exploration.

Following a short layoff at Starbase Eleven for the transportation of supplies and personnel, Venture would head towards the relatively unexplored region identified as the ‘Galactic South’, with a view to seeking out new life and new civilizations, boldly going where no one had gone before. Or at least that was the plan. Thaddeus, or ‘Tad’ as he liked to be called by his friends, had been in command of starships long enough to know that matters rarely went to plan, but for now, he wouldn’t worry too much about that. There was, after all, plenty to look forward to! A few new arrivals would meet the ship at the starbase and complete her roster; engineering would continue to have chance to look over an issue with the environmental controls on deck thirteen; the science team were looking forward to all the updates they would be making in the coming days. Hell, even the medical team were looking forward to an opportunity to take a well earned break and embark on some team building ( cough shore leave cough ) activities after a hectic period of time near Romulan space.

“I told you not to bet my whisky. That was the last of my vintage from Earth.”

“Relax will ya? We’ll just replicate one and send that instead.”

“Are you stupid? If Taeao finds out we’ve duped her, we’re dead.”

Thaddeus couldn’t help but smile as he listened to the unwitting couple that approached him from several yards ahead, the two only calling a halt to their heated exchange when they very nearly bumped into the commanding officer.

“If I were you, I would avoid angering Taeao. Rumour has it she keeps a plasma rifle under that bar,” the Captain advised the two younger officers stood just inches in front of him and at possibly the sharpest, most upright version of attention anyone had seen. His arms folded across his chest, the Captain looked the least bit surprised. He recognised them, of course. He recognised everyone on his ship. Ensign Dazia Kiaol, a Trill from the security team, and her companion from the science department, Ensign Nisha Kedam. Two well known pranksters, and two officers he had heard about for all the wrong reasons. Both had great potential when they wanted to display it, that was why they had been accepted to Venture in the first place, but all too often they wanted to do things their way, rather than the right way. Whilst he applauded initiative, he abhorred disorder. And these were two of the most disorderly crewmembers he’d had the displeasure of commanding.

“I was just joking… I’d never really…” Dazia looked more than a little sheepish as she tried to blag her way out of the telling off she anticipated, stopping only when the face of their commander told her he saw through her every word.

Glaring at each of the youngsters in turn, the Captain eventually shook his head in a most disapproving manner, then rounded the officers, dropping his arms to his side and striding away, headed further on his travels. Where? Only he knew.

“Frak me,” Nisha finally let out the largest exhale of breath she had ever given. “As if you just got caught trying to swindle the captain’s friend?!”

Dazia, wide eyed with sweaty palms, simply looked at her counterpart, then with a jerk of her head, she led the Cardassian down the corridor again.

Several yards behind them, Thaddeus stopped at the corner of section alpha, staring back at the youngsters, watching as they went about their business deep in conversation. These young women had so much promise, their entire careers ahead of them. His eyes narrowed as he glowered at them from distance. It was time to put the pranksters to good use. Perhaps a little cargo transfer duty when the ship arrived at Starbase Eleven? Or maybe that was too mundane? These young women needed to be refocused on their duties and on the life of a Starfleet officer.

He’d need help, and he knew exactly who to call on.

In the dead of night, with the ship at warp and very little occurring, the bridge was a picture of tranquility with its dimmed lights and quiet consoles. The sheer volume of automated systems present on modern starships meant that the days of every station being manned during Gamma shift were long gone. Aboard Venture, only three officers were required to be present throughout the shift, and that meant a quiet time for all involved.

At the CONN, a duty station that was manned around the clock, a Bolian Lieutenant, Fyhya Kirsa, dutifully watched over the ship’s course and speed, in between reading the latest chapter of the latest Andorian horror loaned to her by Ensign Th’killen from engineering. At one of the flanking stations, yet another blue-skinned youngster, Andorian Ensign Tariss Zh’erih, was using the opportunity to get some much needed bridge time logged and had swapped out with her colleague, Ensign Kedam, for the luxury.

Finally, in the command pit surrounded by ‘The Arch’, ridge-nosed Bajoran Nikti Keesa had the privilege of being in command for this particular night shift. Her third in a row to be precise, but the Bajoran Operations assistant loved every minute of it. It was her chance to not only log bridge time, but also command time. She harboured a desire to be a bridge officer before long, and this time was crucial to achieving that aim. Not that she minded sitting in a comfortable chair, having beverages brought to her every so often whilst being engrossed in her own reading.

The perks of being at warp, on a routine mission, headed for Starbase Eleven. Peace and quiet.

Or, not?

On this particular night, the tranquility was disturbed by an incoming transmission that drew the attention of all there present. “It’s from Starfleet Command,” Ensign Zh’erih confirmed, glancing at the dark-haired Bajoran who rose from the command chair.

Rounding the Arch and coming to a stop beside the Andorian, Lieutenant Keesa tapped the display and read the message. It didn’t make for great reading.

Letting out a sigh, she said the three words she hated, and the three words that would no doubt make her very unpopular in just mere minutes.

“Wake the Captain,” she instructed, returning to the safety of the command chair. “He’s going to want to know about this.”

Via several runabouts, Lori finished the journey in her transfer to the Venture as the new chief medical officer.  The trip was long, but there were other personnel she got to know.  A Texas Hold 'Em poker tournament added some excitement.  Now on the base, Lori was in line at one of the security checkpoints, waiting to be cleared to officially enter.  Her duffel bag was slung over her shoulder and she held a PADD with her orders.  Her mind drifted to some of the important events in her life that brought her to this moment.

Xavi III, 2382

“Below that one is another star and to the right, those three are the curve of the bow.  The sailing ship.”  Lori was pointing to the heavens, a beaming smile on her face.  She was 12 and was showing her mother the constellations and telling the stories behind them.

“Lori, it's almost midnight.  It's time to come in.  You have school tomorrow.”

“But, Mom, I'm not tired.  Please, just a little more time.”

“No, dear.  Time for bed.”

“Mmm,” moaned Lori, her shoulders slumping.  “Fine.”  She didn't know it yet, but that was the night before her parents bought a telescope, opening a whole new world in the night sky.

Xavi III, 2384

“Missy, Amy, go get some help.”

The two girls didn't move, their eyes wide in disbelief.  Amy's hand was over her mouth and her face had become pale.

“Now!”  Lori's voice was a shout filled with urgency.  Snapping out of their shock, Missy and Amy hurried away.

“Here's a sharp rock.  Why do you ne…"

Lori snatched the rock from Trevor's hand, using it to cut a piece of material from her shirt.  “This will help stop the bleeding.”

Nick was lying on his back at the base of the tree he fell out of.  It was clear his left arm was broken because of its distorted shape, but his right arm had a deep cut.  He was in a lot of pain and doing his best to be brave in front of the other kids.

As carefully as she could, Lori wrapped the strip from her shirt around the cut, pulling it tight.  Nick grunted.  “Hang on.  Help will be here soon.”

It didn't take long for some grownups to arrive and Nick was taken to a hospital.  Still feeling the rush, Lori began wondering if medicine was her true calling instead of being a scientist.

Earth, 2388

“I'm Julie Hilton.  It's nice to meet you.”

Lori met her roommate at Starfleet Academy, who was studying to be a nurse.  Julie was a tiny bit shorter than Lori, with long, brown hair, brown eyes, and a round and beautiful face.  She had a cheerful and bouncy personality that led Lori to believe they were going to get along just fine.  They stayed together all four years.  Lori spent their first winter break in Maine with the Hilton family.  Julie showed her many sites and wonderful places on Earth.  They became part of a group of friends that made that time the happiest four years of her life.  Growing up with three older brothers,  Julie was the sister Lori never had.

Earth, 2392

“Well?  What did you get?”  Julie was so excited, she was rubbing her hands together and rocking back and forth.

The two, young women had completed their schooling, receiving their first duty assignments.  Julie would be serving on Starbase Bravo.  Lori held her PADD, enjoying that taking her time opening it was driving Julie crazy.

“Do I need to take that from you?” said Julie.

“You're welcome to try.”

“Okay.”  Julie  lunged forward, but Lori sidestepped her friend.  “You missed.”  She stuck out her tongue, waving the PADD in defiance.

“You're in trouble now,” said Julie.

“Ha!”  Lori didn't know how it happened, but the next thing she knew, she and Julie were rolling on the floor in a mighty tug-of-war for the PADD.  Squeals of laughter filled their dorm room.

“Victory!”  Julie shouted, holding the prize.  She was straddled atop Lori who was lying on her back.

The door opened and third-year cadet Luis Alonso stepped into the room.  Initially, his face showed surprise, but he quickly smiled.  “Am I interrupting something, ladies?”  He chuckled.

“Get out!”  Lori and Julie yelled in unison.  Julie flung a couch pillow at him.

“Okay, okay,” said Luis, parrying the projectile.  “Have fun.”  Leaving, he closed the door behind him.  They could hear him laughing in the hallway.

“See what you did,” said Lori.

“I don't care,” said Julie.  She brushed her tussled hair from her face and read the orders.  “You got the Mithrandir.”  She set the PADD on the floor next to her, disappointment in her eyes.

“We knew we probably wouldn't be in the same place,” said Lori.  She was disappointed the best friends would be going in different directions, but at the same time, excitement filled her emotions.  A starship!  Another adventure was about to begin.

Vendek III, 2395

Lori was on her belly behind a rock, trying to make herself as small as possible while disruptor bolts blazed overhead.  The away team was rescuing the surviving crew from a small freighter that crashed after a pirate attack, but whatever the cargo was, the bad guys wanted it so badly, they were willing to start a firefight with Starfleet personnel.

Lori was so scared, she felt like she would painfully puke everything she had eaten for two days.  Combat simulations at the academy were one thing, but this was real and her first time under fire.  No safety protocols now.  Chaos ruled amidst the shouting and the sounds of deadly energy blasts coming from what seemed like every direction.

“Damn it, Doctor, get up and do your job!”

It was Lieutenant Jackson, the away team leader.  Lori looked at him, not understanding what he was saying.

“We have a wounded man!”  Jackson pointed to his right.

Lori looked, seeing Ensign Qegg Mowat lying on the ground.  The Bolian was alive, but in obvious and terrible pain.  To help him, Lori would need to run across open ground, exposing herself to possible fire.

“They're jamming our comms,” said Jackson.  “He needs help.  Now!”

Something from her breakfast retched into Lori's mouth, but she forced it back down.  Closing her eyes, she muttered a quick prayer to anyone that might be listening.  Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her medkit, running to Mowat with every bit of courage and strength she could muster.

Starbase 11, 2400

“I said, are you all right, Lieutenant?”

Lori blinked.  “What?”  She was so lost in thought, she hadn't realized it was her turn at security.  “I'm sorry, Ensign.  I was thinking about…  Well, things.”

“I'm glad you're okay, ma'am.  We'll get you through, quick and easy.”  The ensign smiled.

Embarrassed, Lori nodded an apology.  Handing him the PADD, she placed her duffel on the counter.  While the ensign worked, she wished she could see Julie again.

“You're all set, Doctor Weaver.  Welcome to Starbase 11.  Safe journeys.”  The ensign smiled.

“Let's hope so,” said Lori.  “For all of us.”

“So, this is it, aye?” The short redhead raised her glass to the Klingon.

“It is, Mara Shepard.” The Klingon raised his glass. “I’ll miss our time together, my friend.”

“To me best drinkin’ pal!” A bit of stout spilled as they tapped their glasses together. Mara chugged her pint down. Commander Mas did the same; foam dripped from his beard when he finished. Mara couldn’t help but laugh.

“So this is an Irish pub?” Mas placed his boot on the brass foot railing and scanned the room. Red faced patrons laughed aloud while the band played Whiskey in the Jar. The bar itself was made of dark wood and incorporated both intricate millwork and etched glass. Football flags like the Shamrock Rovers and black framed news clippings lined the walls. An old man, puffing on his pipe, sat two stools from him. The old man and the barkeep swapped fishing stories as their prize increased in size with each tale. The air began to haze.

“It’s jovial and welcoming. There are a few establishments like this on Qo’noS, but with less tall tales and more head butting.”

“Ye don’t think there’s no honor in snagging a whopper?” Mara joked.

“Perhaps, if honesty was a consideration.” Mas eyed the old man and bartender as they continued to brag. The pipe’s haze grew thicker. “I see no reason to boast a lie.”

“They both know it’s shite, but neither one gives a feck.” Mara ordered another pint for her and Mas. “Ye come to a place like this with friends. If ye can’t joke around with a friend, then what’s the point of having them, aye?”

“I understand. Klingons take their leisure time seriously, but our war stories are for the old who won their glory. This pub is soft. There is no glory here.”

“We’re here. Don’cha recall that battle with the Gorn I helped ye with?”

“Battle?” Mass chuckled. “That was a bar brawl and as I recall I fought the Gorn while you clung to his back. He swung you around like a ragdoll.”

“I kept him off balance fer ye.”

“Now you sound like that old fool at the bar bragging about his fish.” The Klingon grimaced and waved the smoke away.

“I’ll miss ye, Mas.”

The Klingon nodded and grabbed another drink. “I’ll miss you too, Little Red.”

“Where will ye end up, ye think?”

The Klingon upended his stout, killing the pint in one go. To Mara’s question, he wasn’t sure he had an answer. “The Captain is leaving the Leda, though she refuses to divulge any details. I thought to stay on, but I’m not sure I will.”

“Why not? Yer one of the best XOs in the fleet.. Hell, ye deserve yer own command and everyone knows it.”

“True,” Mas nodded.

“And it’s good that yer so humble about it,” joked Shepard.

Mas smiled briefly as he pushed his pint glass away from him. “What about you? Chief Science Officer on the Venture, a Sovereign-class starship. Quite an accomplishment.”

“Yeah.” Mara’s cheeks reddened. She couldn’t help but give in to the smile ready to burst forth. “Me, in charge of people, telling them what to do. Can the galaxy handle it?”

“No.”

Mara leaned forward. “You best be ready to crack a smile, Mas or –”

The Klingon burst out laughing. “Of course I was joking. You will honor the Venture with your knowledge and talent.”

“I don’t know about honor, but I’m pretty sure I won’t feck up too bad.” The two friends sat at the bar through a moment of silence. Commander Mas once again waved the smoke from his scowled face.

“Enough of this poison,” he said and rose from the stool. Mara flinched from the sudden outburst. Mas grabbed the old man’s pipe and crushed it in his hand. Mara downed her pint and sprang up just as the barkeep reached over for the Klingon. Mas was quick and pushed the old man aside then flung the bartender into the floor. The crowd’s banter came to a halt. “Does anyone else want to spew his poison into my face?” Mas opened his hand. Bits of the ruined pipe fell to the floor.

The crowd burst like confetti. Before she knew it, Mara was on the floor, tackled by three patrons. “— Off me!” she howled. Mas stood his ground with four men on top of him. He grinned cheerfully and tossed two from his grasp. Two more rushed in.

“Now, this is a good way to say goodbye!”

Mara felt a punch to her stomach. Another hand grabbed her arm. She kicked and bit back. A stream of blood arched over the rumble. “We’ll remember it, that’s fer sure.”

A tall, blond man grabbed a shotgun from behind the bar. Mara spotted him coming from the corner of her eye. “Mas! Look out!”

The Klingon tossed the four men off and ducked just as the shotgun pumped a load of buckshot into a nearby table.

“The safety’s on, right?”

“Of course, Little Red. We could turn off the safety,” Mas grinned.

“No!” she yelled. She bit into an arm that snaked around her neck. A man screamed and tripped over the other three. All fell to the floor. Mara stood, her fists at the ready. A fat patron flew over the bar, crashing into the glass. Mara ducked. “Warn me next time, why don’cha!”

The crowd turned and began to act as one. Mara placed herself beside the Klingon. “Ready?” she asked.

“Always,” roared Mas, his eyes crazed with the heat of battle.

Mara’s combadge chimed. “Lt. Mara Shepard. You are due to report to the USS Venture by 1400 hours. It is now 1315.”

Mara shook her head. The angry crowd inched closer.

“Computer, I’ll be here shortly. End simulation.” The pub and its angry patrons dissipated and gave way to the grid of the holosuite. Mara and Mas stood together, still in a fighting stance. “That’s it I guess.”  Shepard turned to her friend and extended a hand. The Commander eyed the woman’s hand and shook his head.

“Until we meet again, my friend,” said the Klingon and headbutted her.

Mara staggered back in a daze. “What the f —” Once she gained her wits, the woman felt blood trickle from her lip. “Ye gave me a busted lip? The hell?”

“Wear the scar to remember me, Mara Shepard.”

“Ye gonna make me cry now, huh?” The tiny redhead looked upward to the towering Klingon. He too dissipated soon after. “I really wish you could have been here, Mas.” She touched her lower lip and winced. “Good thing I’ll remember ye.”

Shepard’s combadge chimed again. She tapped it quickly. “Keep yer panties on, I’ll be on there shortly.” The woman sighed as she looked back. “See ya when I see ya, Mas.”

Late.

Three minutes late, the story of Nisha’s life for the last few months, and it didn’t seem to phase her in the slightest as she sauntered along deck seven, headed for the science lab. She had been caught red handed, along with her best friend, planning to dupe the well-respected bar keep and friend of the Captain. Her punishment? To work on the most menial task the new Chief Science Officer could find her. At least, that was her guess. Maybe if she was lucky the new chief would try a different tactic, but she wasn’t hopeful.

The lab was filled with faces staring back at Mara. Her heart fluttered. Her palms perspired. Before her was a view the new Chief Science Officer was not accustomed to. She cleared her throat and wished she had stopped by the bar earlier. “Don’t feck this up” went through her mind again and again and again. 

“‘ello. Me name is  Lt. Mara Shepard. Am yer new Chief Science Officer and te-deh, I jus’ wanna ge’ teh know ye an –”

An ensign, his expression perplexed, raised his hand.

“Ye ‘ave a question?”

“My apologies, Lieutenant, but I can’t understand half of what you’re saying.”

Mara, red faced, doubled over as she began to laugh. “S’rry. I went ‘ome fer leave an’ I’m still stuck in Ir’lan’ in me head.” The Science officer cleared her throat. “Let’s try that agin … Hello, my name is Mara Shepard. Today, I want to get to know ye and yer stations. Before I do that,” she said, “are we all here today?” Lt. Shepard glanced around the room, nodding, silently taking roll call in her head. “Seems we’re missin’ one.”

The gathered team mates looked knowingly at each other, entirely unsurprised by the absence of one particular officer. But, right on que, the Cardassian Ensign strode into the lab, stopping only when she realised the entire science department appeared to be present, staring right at her. “Ummm, hi?” she chirped up eventually. “Sorry I’m late,” she lied.

By the expression on everyone’s faces, it seemed Ensign Kedam was already well known. Mara thought it might be because the woman was a Cardassian as there weren’t many of her kind in Starfleet. The Lieutenant felt a sudden flush herself, a reflex from a Cardassian so close in proximity. She took a breath and reminded herself that there were many victims in the Dominion war. 

“‘ello Ensign …” Shepard glanced at her PADD. “… Kedam. Yer a wee late, but don’t concern yerself too much this time. However, since ye seem to have the floor, mind telling me a bit about yerself and yer station?”

‘Oh the joy! I love talking about myself!’ the Cardassian remarked inwardly to herself, before nodding slowly. “Sure, I guess,” she took a breath, leant against a nearby console and folded her arms across her chest. “Nisha Kedam, transferred over from the Santa Fe some time ago. Stellar Cartographer by trade, but branching into the field of biology in my spare time.”

“Stellar Cartographer? Grand. That was my first station as well.” With the first introduction out of the way, Mara went around the room. For the time being she only wanted names and stations. A more personal introduction would come later.

“Tank ye all fer yer — oops. I went back to Ireland again. Let me start over.” Mara laughed at herself and continued. “Thank you all for ye cooperation. It may take a bit for me to get yer names right, so please bear with me.” Shepard placed her PADD on the desk behind her. “I’m generally hands off, but for today, I’d like to see how ye work.” Mara Ensign Kedam over. “Fer being late, you are the lucky winner for today. Walk me through yer process, please.” 

“My process?” Nisha queried. “What do you mean?”

“Yer job. How do you do it? Do ye go by the book or do ye have your own way of stargazing?” Mara walked with Nisha toward stellar cartography. “I went by the book when I had that assignment, but developed me own process eventually.”

Nisha gave the question some thought, and found herself letting out a slight smirk and a smile in her first ‘real’ shared moment with her chief. “Back when I was on the Santa Fe, Commander Travis would often remind me of protocols and guidance on how to do things…” she shook her head slowly, bowing it while reflecting on her time with her dear friend, “but he’d always encourage me to be me, to do things my way.” Reminiscing about her colleague, the man who had trusted her on so many occasions, always brought a tear to her eyes, and this time was no different. “Look, I may not do things the way you like, and we will clash from time to time, but I always get results,” she concluded.

Shepard’s thumb rubbed the bottom of her chin while Nisha recalled advice from a former Commander, a friend, from the Cardassian’s mannerisms. Mara was relieved to hear that Kedam’s process was self-developed. That Nisha found her own way on the advice of a friend made sense. She had a similar tale from her last ship. The new CSO’s only quibble was with Kedam’s insistence that they would clash.

“Fair enough. Ye have yer own style, that’s good by me. I mean, if ye come to work butt-ass naked or take a piss on the console, then I know we’ll have some problems. Like, invite me to the party next time.” She gave Nisha a wink. “Get yer job done on time and we’ll have no worries.”

Mara moved to the console as she glanced up at the star chart. “What made ye interested in this field? Do ye mind sharing that with me?”

Nisha was still a little taken aback by the comment from the Chief, and only once she had shook that off did she finally offer some response to the question. “Did you never just lay back as a child and look at the stars, dreaming of what might be out there?” she asked of the Chief. 

“Aye. Many a time, I would lay back in the tall grass and look up at the stars, but fer me it was a teacher who turned me on to physics that lit the spark.” No doubt Nisha would find Mara’s story boring, so she left it there. Shepard leaned against the console and gazed up at the star chart. She briefly recalled her duties as cartographer on the Empress, how impressive and intimidating it was to take charge of such an operation. A smile touched Mara’s face before she returned to the Cardassian.

“I think ye’ll do fine Ensign, so I won’t torture ye any longer. If ye need anything, let me know. Otherwise, thanks for the briefing. See ya around.” 

Watching the science chief depart, the Cardassian pursed her lips. She’d been a little lost since Javorian’s passing aboard the Santa Fe, she would happily admit that to herself, but maybe this new woman would give her the same reassurances and faith her friend had?

Lieutenant Commander Nate Wilmer had a reputation for loving speed. At 44 years old he wasn’t a spring chicken in terms of age. He was seasoned with years of being a test pilot, and service to the fleet. There were previous starships under his belt, including being part of the flight development team for the Vesta Class starship.

The Sovereign class USS Venture was by no means a new ship. It too was a tried and true vessel with a history of service. In Nate’s opinion it was the new workhorse of the fleet. In the days he had served in the Dominion War, Starfleet officers couldn’t go from one corner of the Alpha Quadrant to the other without seeing a Miranda Class. So it was now, with the Sovereign. They might have been everywhere, but it in no way diminished the majesty the vessel commanded.

Nate, on the other hand, commanded no such sense of royalty. His once bright auburn colored hair, now faded, suggested a long lineage of genealogy leading back to old Earth Scotland and Ireland. He had deep roots in Europe, with fair skin and freckles to show for it. His eyes glinted with a hint of a devil may care attitude, and a goatee that was no longer in style – but was his style.

In his off duty hours, Nate was the exact opposite of his military bearing and his Starfleet uniform. Nate would unceremoniously wear blue jeans and a simple black t-shirt, and his favorite replicated pair of Converse all-stars.

However, reporting for duty today, it was all about looking his best.

Nate’s hair was combed, his uniform crisp, his pips adjusted just so, and adherent to Starfleet standards. Nate liked the uniforms of the period. He enjoyed the bright vivid colors, and the flash of red across shoulders and up the high collar of his neck. He looked good.

Nate had reached a point in his career where he had accepted the stall of the advancement of his career. He was 44 years old. If there were ambitions of command, they should have manifested by now. They had not. Nate was content as helmsman. “Everything” in his mind; was the entire summation of the meaning of his universe and it meant that he kept flying.

Nate had everything.

He was single, and he liked it that way. It was difficult to form relationships long-term or otherwise, when one was on detached service to the fleet. No one wanted to get married to a test pilot and wonder if they were coming home, or mangled in a wreck… or perhaps even dead. Nate was married to the ships that he lovingly cared for. He was the pilot and the ship his means of flight. That was his relationship, and that was all that mattered.

But then again… there was that blonde yeoman who was standing by the information kiosk by the entryway of Starbase 11…

Nate smirked.

Yes, the starship may have been his mistress, but the good thing about her was she didn’t get jealous. And there was always time to make new friends before reporting for duty.

“Well hello there,” Nate said with a charming smile and an outstretched hand, “Yeoman, I’m a bit lost, perhaps you can direct me towards the liaison office for the USS Venture?”

The yeoman smiled back, friendly and cordial, as was standard behavior for the yeoman’s of the fleet.

“So, where’s the fun at, at Starbase 11,” Nate said with a flirtatious smile, “…or am I looking at her?”

Nate set foot on the Sovereign class USS Venture for the very first time. She was quite a thing to behold. He’d given the Sovereign fleet a bad assessment in his mind and unjustly so. Everything about the ship was spacious, and the designs and colorations of her bulkheads were active and vibrant. Nate had been used to the comfortable, carpeted interiors of a Galaxy class vessel. That type of ship was akin to someone’s living room; decorated and lived in. They even had a smattering of potted plants.

Early on, Nate had heard rumors that Sovereign were utilitarian and militaristic, with dark undertones, and low lighting. However, he was pleased to find that he was mistaken in that belief.

From here on out, his orders were clear. First he would report to the officer on duty, show his transfer of orders, dump his personal effects off with the quartermaster, get assigned some personal living space, and the head to the ships Chief Medical Officer and report for the standard embarkation physical. Nate hated physicals, but it was part of life in Starfleet. Nobody wanted to sit next to someone on the bridge who had attracted the Orion “foomy goomies.”

As Nate walked through the corridors and various levels of the Venture, he allowed himself to take the place in. It was something he did when reporting to a new post. He paid attention to the state of the ship. Was it in disrepair, or was it clean? Were things in a constant state of mess and disrepair, or was she up to Starfleet standards? It said a lot about her crew, but it also spoke to the mindset of its Captain.

Additionally, he looked at the faces of the crew persons. Did they look happy, eased, or were they distressed and running. Sometimes Captain’s liked to keep their crews cracking and at work. Nate was pleased to find that on both fronts the ship seemed nominal and in a normal state of function. He detected no faces at “red alert”. Everyone seemed aware of their duties and went about them at a reasonable Starfleet pace.

Nate took a brief moment, transferred his orders to the officer on deck, and proceeded to receive his room assignment from the quartermaster. He was pleasantly surprised to find that he didn’t have to share a room with anyone, and that he even got larger senior style quarters, complete with windows. He liked rooms with windows. He’d always been somewhat claustrophobic and the junior quarters always left something to be desired, and were sparse in their decorations.

Not that decoration mattered in the 25th century; humanity had largely developed beyond the need for self-identification through the accumulation of junk. However, Nate had some precious personal belongings that he had accumulated through his 25 years of service to the fleet. His soccer ball, for example, had been a personal belonging that he had carried with him, ever since he played on the academy team his freshman year.

Yes, he suspected he was going to like service aboard the Venture. All he had to do now was report to its Captain, and take his proper place at the ships helm.

Peace. It was so very rare to come across a zone of peace and tranquility on a starship, but when docked at a starbase, the bridge often became as close to it as anything. With so little to do, the majority of the crew off resupplying and carrying out routine maintenance, Commander Aamin Dahl had jumped at the chance to take the afternoon watch and get some administrative work done in the relative quiet of the command center. He was slouched in his command chair, legs dangling over the left arm of the chair, buried nose deep in personnel matters when the turbo lift doors opened and revealed a new face.

The turbolift doors opened onto the tomb-like ambience of the main bridge. Lieutenant Commander Nate Wilmer stepped out, taking in the central nervous system of the beautiful ship. Every bridge had charm, every station had its own character. Just like individual school desks back at the academy, each bridge station revealed signs of the personality of each user. Nate approached the center seat, taking in its occupant for all-in-all.

He cleared his throat and stood to the side in full attention. It wouldn’t do to comment on a senior officer’s posture, or seating position, and so he treated it like it was normal.

“Lieutenant Commander Nathaniel Wilmer, Chief Flight Controller, reporting for duty, sir.” He said.

A flicker of the Commander’s eyebrow betrayed the man’s innate curiosity of all things peculiar, and a Flight Controller at such a high rank was more than peculiar. Flight tended to be one of those stepping stones to greatness, something more junior officers tended to do before they moved on to bigger and better things. This guy, though, was apparently in it for the long haul.

Spinning on his backside, the XO dropped his feet to the floor and rose to offer his greetings to the newcomer. “Commander Dahl, first officer,” he smiled, thrusting a hand at the fellow red shirt before him.

Nate smiled and accepted the handshake of the First Officer. He was always eager to make friends at his new post and he had good vibes about the ships executive officer.

“I’m recently transferred from the Excalibur, but I’ve already given myself an impromptu tour of the ship and she’s amazing. I can see that Captain Scott keeps a tidy vessel.”

Nate’s body remained at attention. Even all these years after graduation from Starfleet Academy, he adhered to the rules of service. An officer of lesser rank did not, under any circumstances change his body posture from full attention to parade rest until authorized to do so. It didn’t matter how relaxed the atmosphere was; those were the rules. No matter how opposite his behavior was off duty, Nate always did his best when in uniform.

Look your best, be your best. It was a sort of personal motto, and it had served him well so far.

Aamin waved away the man’s attentive stance and gestured for him to take a seat in the command chair whilst the XO returned to the sanctity of his own seat. “Captain Scott keeps a tidy vessel because I keep a tidy vessel,” Dahl told with a smug expression, “a good Captain is only as good as his crew, and especially his number one. We all run a tight ship because this is one of the finest in the fleet. You don’t get to be here unless you’re damn good at what you do, and we expect you to stay that way once you’re here.” The speech sounded more like a warning of expectation than anything else, but at least there was no threatening tone to his words.

Nate watched Commander Dahl exit the center seat. It seemed as if the First Officer was suggesting he should sit down and try out the Captain’s chair. But something about that didn’t sit quite right with him and he hesitated.

Nate nearly sat down, but then as he began to take a seat, stopped himself half way. If the Captain were to enter the bridge at that exact moment, the arrangement of his officers might look disrespectful. That was not the first impression he wanted to make. He made his change of bodily movement seem intentional and before he could sit, he stood upright again.

He headed directly towards the helm.

“Hey, I haven’t really taken a good look at the helm yet. Maybe I should acquaint myself with the old girl, before I do anything else.” He said enthusiastically.

It had been a distraction, of course. He didn’t want to offend the executive officer by turning down his offer to sit in the big chair. His words were not hollow ones. He did love the helm more than anything else.

But his instincts said no, and he always listened to his instincts.

Aamin nodded slowly, respecting the newcomer’s attempt to hide his reasons for not wanting to sit in the command chair. He wasn’t the first to reject the chance of sitting in Scott’s seat, and he wouldn’t be the last. “Just a word of warning,” he chimed in, looking towards the Commander, “never let the Captain hear you call his ship an ‘old girl’, or your assignment here will be incredibly short,” the Trill warned, a menacing look on his face.

As the newcomer turned away to focus on his work, the XO let out a devilish grin from behind the safety of his data PADD. Oh how he loved to torment newcomers.

Amiyah had decided to train especially after a long day of reports and making sure things were prepared for their upcoming departure. She was a master in many forms of martial arts, though most of the members of the ship had no clue regarding this. She sighed as she though back to her test to become a master in most of her classes it had went better than she had expected. Her room adjourned with many trophies and medals. 

She looked at the few she had received from the Olympics and smiled proudly especially for those because it took an intense training for her participation. She also looked at some of the weapons on her wall, as she was versed in many including holding the title of Dahar Master with a Bat’leth. A rare accomplishment, but somewhat easy when being stationed with some Klingons. She didn’t flaunt the title and usually never mentioned it.

She snapped back to reality as her mind had began to wonder and zipped her bag before leaving her quarters and heading to holodeck one, upon arrival she activated the program and stepped in the room. It had turned into a martial arts training gym. She approached the locker room and quickly changed before coming out to see her opponents waiting. She prepared to spar when she heard the doors slide open. She looked over and saw an unfamiliar face standing at the doors. She returned to a normal stance “Computer clear opponents.”  The chime of acknowledgement occurred before the opponents disappeared.

“You look lost is everything ok?” She asked making sure to determine if the newcomer was ok.

Lt. Cmdr. Nate Wilmer stood in the doorway of the holodeck. Sooner or later on every self-tour of a ship, he inevitably made his way to the holodeck to test the wide assortment of programs available. He had not expected however, that the holodeck would be in use, by another bridge officer.

Generally speaking it was poor manners to barge into another program that was in use. After all, holodecks were intended for a wide assortment of entertainment and escapism. However, whenever someone engaged a program of a more adult nature, they usually had the presence of mind to lock the door. Which is why when Nate approached the exterior holodeck panel to see what programs were available, he was immediately taken off guard when the doors opened instead.

“Sorry… I was…” He stopped and smiled and extended a handshake to the young woman, “Lieutenant Commander Nate Wilmer. I’m the new helmsman here.”

Amiyah smiled “Nice to meet you I am Lieutenant Commander Amiyah Palmer” she said in a British accent. She was trying to figure out why the door did not lock to the program as it normally had. She continued “I am the Chief of Tactical and the ships Second Officer.” She stated as she grabbed the hand firmly to shake.

Nate was pretty easy on the eyes, but Amiyah couldn’t admit that.

Amiyah was attractive to Nate, as well. She checked off most of the boxes of the things that he liked in a woman: physically fit, shorter then he, and she seemed sharp. Beyond these things, however, it was her voice he noticed first. She was so proper, so smooth in her speech, that she immediately reminded him of Charlie. After absorbing her personality and her speech patterns, he could not help but smirk to himself.

“Right, well, you clearly were in here before I was… I better clear out.” He said, realizing that he was still shaking her hand.

He released her grip, but not immediately. He began to exit the holodeck.

“Well, now that we’ve met, I’m guessing I’ll see you on the bridge at some point.” He said walking backward and keeping eye contact, “Don’t be a stranger.”

Amiyah spoke up immediately “No we aren’t done yet. You came into a training area so now it’s time to spar.” She grinned mischievously.

Nate stopped walking and a massive grin crossed his face. He had no idea what she had in mind, but he was certain that he could hold his own against her, whatever the competition she had in mind. If she chose basketball, he had her beat hands down, in the world of soccer… well he scored the winning goal against Bayview his sophomore year at Starfleet Academy. Running… well, he was rubbish when it came to running.

He looked down at her and smirked.

“Is that right?” He held up his hands in an accepting stance, “Well you better go easy on me, these hands have to fly the ship. That’s harder to do with busted fingers.”

He tilted his head in genuine curiosity.

“What sort of sparring did you have in mind?” He raised an eyebrow, “Suus Mahna? Tsunkatse? A little MMA perhaps?”

He knew that he was dead out of the starting gate if she chose any of those styles. But sometimes, one learned more from losing than winning at everything.

Amiyah smirked and shook her head “I thoughts we’d start with some Kenpo then maybe switch to Ju Jitsu with a mix of Krav Maga. If you really want a chance to try something we could always spar with some Bat’leths?”

Nate approached the young woman, and removed his uniform tunic top. He was not overtly muscular. In fact, he was lean, skinny, with only the slightest bit of muscular definition. This was his genetic heritage. Generations of Wilmer men before him were tall, lanky and wiry. However, with Starfleet training under his belt, proper diet and exercise, he’d built an above average physique that he could be proud of.

He looked at her and took a level one combat stance, which was taught to all Starfleet personnel in basic training.

“Why don’t we skip Bat’leths for today.” He said with a smirk, “After all, we should probably save that for our first date.”

Amiyah immediately took stance and kicked Nate in the stomach for the remark. She could silently admit it made her smile but not openly in this case. She heard him groan and she stepped back into her stance “Was that a great idea Wilmer?” She smirked as she threw another punch, which he blocked though not countering the punch from the other hand. She than threw a roundhouse into his stomach having him fall to the floor protected by mats.

She had caught him off guard with the ferocity of her attack. Nate had been so distracted with flirting and trying to be seductive that he had left his guard down. He deserved that hit. However, he used the failure of his fall, to reposition himself. Feigning slightly more injury than had been taken, he used the attack of opportunity and struck.

With a sweep of his leg, his reach exceeded her own due to the length of his legs and he swept her out from underneath herself, causing her to hit the mat hard. Jumping up to his feet, he looked down at her with a smirk.

“It’s only a great idea if it leads to a yes on your part.” He said with a wink.

The nerve of this man was uncanny but Amiyah liked the game he was playing she figured a way to get him good. She stood back up and took stance before quickly getting around him and putting him in a headlock. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before whispering “Be careful what you wish for.” As she let go she kicked his back pushing him away from her and anticipating his next move. Each move he threw she countered especially after falling to his first move. Not letting him know she opened a few times to let him feel good, but his face has some blood and she quipped “Looks like someone needs some medical attention.”

He tapped his lip, tasting the blood and seeing it across his fingers and gave her a smirk.

“You win… you win.” He said holding up a hand in defeat, “I still haven’t met the Captain yet, probably wouldn’t be a good idea with a couple of black eyes.”

He looked back at her, bruised in the backside and his ego.

“A bloody lip?” He cocked his head with a charming grin, “Totally worth the kiss.”

And he stepped back towards the exit.

Amiyah smiled and watched as the man departed the holodeck she spoke up before he disappeared “Let’s do this again soon.” She said as he walked out of the door. She smiled as the encounter was much more pleasant than she would have anticipated the evening to be. She secretly hoped to see Nate again very soon!

Standing around outside of the personal quarters of her Tactical chief, Dazia was practically hopping from side to side as excitement grew inside of her. It grew to such a crescendo that she lurched forward and slammed her hand on the panel, pressing the alarm and hurting her palm in the process. “Frak,” she cursed, pulling the hand back and rubbing it with the other. ‘You’ve been spending too much time with Nisha,’ she chided, the Cardassian’s preferred expletive something the young Trill had adopted, and just in time for the door to open.

Amiyah had been preparing to answer the door when she was interrupted by the alarm going off. She sighed and opened the door to see a Trill waiting outside rubbing his hand. She looked at the panel and cancelled the alarm “Ensign are you ok? And do you know how this alarm started?” She asked knowing a good portion of what probably happened, but she was testing the honesty of the Ensign. 

“I may have been a bit more forceful with the door panel than intended,” the Trill responded, sheepishly reaching an arm up and scratching the back of her head. “Sorry about that, ma’am. Didn’t mean to make such a commotion.”

Amiyah shook her head “It’s ok these things do happen.” She said as she made sure no engineering staff would need to look at the panel. “No harm no foul. So, Ensign why are you here? We were scheduled to meet tomorrow.”

“I may have got into a spot of bother with the Captain last night,” the Trill looked somewhat confused, having fully expected the commanding officer to have informed her department head of her visit. “He said I should spend some time with you to make amends for it…”

Amiyah nodded “I was informed, but I thought it was tomorrow not today. These days get so jumbled at times it makes my head hurt. Regardless, I have a decent amount of work today. So don’t slow me down I am not one who tolerates delays.” She said sternly.

Raising her eyebrows at the sudden stern reminder from her department chief, the Ensign nodded quickly. “I understand ma’am,” she spluttered. “Where shall we begin?” she then enquired, eager to get started and not delay the Chief any further.

Amiyah looked skeptically for a moment “We have to first check the weapons emitters, then we have to calibrate for any variance. After that we shall see” She said as they started walking down the corridor heading for the nearest turbolift. Upon reaching it the doors whooshed open and Amiyah stated where they needed to go. She looked at the Ensign “So what duties have you yet to learn?”

Dazia gave the question some thought during the turbo lift ride, and each time she was drawn back to her interests. “Honestly, I chose this department because I want to keep people safe, but I’ve never been trusted with anything beyond making sure cargo gets to the right place, or people get aboard the ship at the right time,” she confessed, “I want to be on away teams, I want to be on the bridge during an intruder alert, I want to be someone the Captain can rely on in a crunch.”

Amiyah nodded recording the information in her mind “That’s an admirable goal for sure and we will work to make that happen. If you’re willing to do the work.”

The final comment from her department head made the Trill feel a little frustrated. She was many things, but she wasn’t lazy, and any insinuation from anyone wound her up. “I’ve never shirked away from my duties, Chief. I’ll always do what’s required.”

The comment was short and showed Amiyah she had hit a sensitive spot “I never said you didn’t I am just letting you know in my department I do not award people who won’t work. I tell anyone in my department that and yet I have had to relocate people due to it. So this is just a friendly discussion I have with all my team.” 

Amiyah knew that Dazia was a hard worker, she had looked at her record. She just seemed to get into sticky situations, which had accounted for her problems. It was something Amiyah had seen before, but in worse cases than Dazia.

Friendly discussion. Dazia supposed that was fair enough. “So what about you, Chief?” the trill enquired in an effort to get to know her superior a bit better, “how did you end up here?”

Amiyah shook her head. “I decided it was time for some change. Ha, not really, the ship I was assigned to was unexpectedly sent for a refit and I was reassigned here. It isn’t all bad of course. I was promoted and given the chief position so someone trust my hard work and abilities. That or I was the last person on the list.” She chuckled trying to lighten the mood from its earlier setting.

Dazia listened and smiled in all of the right places, trying to get a measure of her new department head. She seemed a bit more ‘human’ than Lieutenant Noli aboard the Santa Fe, and the Trill sensed she would probably like the woman in time. For now, she chose to keep the Commander at arms length. 

Amiyah gave Dazia the orders to go and look at the weapon emitters for the information on the PADD she handed her. This was the best way to evaluate her. After that she could see just what she could do.

Nate had the strangest first day aboard ship he had ever experienced. In his 25 years of service to Starfleet, he had never reported for duty, met a beautiful woman, been offered to sit in the Captain’s chair by the first officer, gotten beaten up by a beautiful woman, and then found himself unable to get said woman out of his mind. It was a bizarre series of events, and yet somehow it was the perfect snapshot of his life.

After his shift had ended, he had taken the remainder of the afternoon to tend to his injuries, clean up and unpack the personal effects he had brought with him. His quarters were beginning to take shape. His favorite hard bound books were now in their rightful place on his shelves, next to the window. His favorite twelve inch statue of Christ the Redeemer was centered perfectly on his living room coffee table.

After changing out of his duty uniform and slipping on his favorite blue jeans and most comfortable black t-shirt, he was nearly done in the decoration of his living space.

He was almost finished, and was in the process of hanging up his framed vintage movie poster collection. He was just about to place his Lawrence of Arabia poster on the opposite wall in the living area, when there came a chime came at the door. It was nearly 2100 hours, and Nate was immediately curious as to who it might be at such a late hour.

“Come?” He said, posing more of a question, than granting permission to enter.

Amiyah was not on duty so it gave her more time to think about this man she had met. She couldn’t get him out of her head usually it was easy to just forget people. She went to her room and changed into more comfy clothes. She had no makeup on and her head was down, which most people said was attractive.

She usually just laughed it off, but today she was pacing in her room with an old rock band Skillet beating in the room. She was trying to decide what to do and the music believe it or not calmed her nerves.

She made a decision and was going to go with it. She turned off the music and dimmed the lights in her room changing them to a dark blue. She left the room and headed down the way to Nate‘s room. She activated the chime and waited.

After hearing a leery come she walked into the doorway parting her hair from her eyes and awkwardly stood there scanning the room and looking at Nate trying to make eye contact.

Nate was confused to see her again so soon, and yet was happy that she was here.

“Hey,” he said with his typical smarmy smirk on his face, “If you’re here for round two, I’m not fully healed up from the last time.”

He placed the poster up on the wall, but found himself having difficulty getting the frame straight and aligned with the objects around it.

“But I could use a hand with this poster now that you’re here…” he said, with a friendly tone.

Amiyah thought for a second and nodded as she got next to him and helped him hold the frame touching his hand and quickly pulling it away. “Lawrence of Arabia hmm that’s a classic though the way it ends I can’t say I like. Regardless can’t beat a classic.” She said as she scanned the disheveled room yet again and saw a Bible on the stand. Religion wasn’t something she got into with people, but if anyone heard Skillet they could ask questions. 

“So what’s next?” She said snapping back to Nate.

Nate looked about his room, if he asked her help with every single detail they might be in there for days. He focused then on the most important work that needed to be done; things he could most benefit from having an extra set of helping hands.

“Nothing crazy,” he said, “But I don’t think I like the couch where it is…grab an end.”

Nate took one end of the couch, and awaited her to do the same.

She stepped over and smirked “You know you could say please. No manners like that may just get you beat up again.” She shook her head as she picked up her side with considerable ease.

Nate thought about Amiyah, and how unusual she was compared to the women he typically found interesting. He had made the mistake previously of comparing her to Charlie. He now knew based off her response, and the way she spoke, that she was proving to be less and less like the woman he once loved.

He found the idea of getting to know someone again, strangely attractive and magnetic.

The two of them began to rearrange the furniture, and he used that moment in time to try and ask her important questions about herself. He had to get to know her.

“So Amiyah, tell me about yourself. What does the Venture’s second officer do when she’s not beating the crap out of her fellow bridge staff?”

Amiyah laughed for a moment “Beat the crap out of others to make sure I don’t hurt someone.” She winked for a second “I do a lot of different things, but martial arts hits the top of the list between that and weapons training. I also like holo adventures like ziplining and competition archery. Also like listening to music.” 

She stopped and looked at him “And what about you? What do you do when your not being beaten to a pulp?” She winked at him.

“Let me show you.” He said.

Nate stood up, satisfied with the location of the couch and plopped down on it.

“Have a seat, you’ve earned it…” He said, “…and the reward you’ve earned? Well, you’re in for a treat.”

He held up a finger in a moment of pause.

“Computer, play some blues.” He said, calling for a request for his favorite music.

The computer selected a song from his favorites, and to both the surprise of Nate and Amiyah it chose: “You don’t know what love is” – by Chet Baker.

Amiyah rose an eyebrow at the selection “Are you hinting at something Nate?”

Nate smirked and even blushed a slight bit. That would not have been the song he would have chosen at that particular moment. Then again, it made him realize how many of the songs he had chosen for his personal selection were of a romantic nature. But all the same, it was a fantastic song, and he was glad the computer had chosen it.

“I assure you, the computer is conspiring against me,” He said jokingly, “But its a great song, and you mentioned you liked music. I just wanted to see your reaction to blues. Some girls love it, some hate it. Just wanted to see if you were one of the haters.”

Amiyah looked at him skeptically “I can’t say I hate it but it’s not my favorite. Let me let you hear one of my favorite songs. Computer play Feel Invincible by Skillet.”

Nate listened to the song, and really tried to absorb its meaning. He had a broad range of musical tastes and interests. Though his favorite genres were blues, new age, and classical, he was always on the lookout for a new song. Something about her music was raw, and powerful. He was no stranger to rock, and now he had a new song that he could add to his musical library.

He looked at her with a new sort of appreciation and a smile on his face. His eyes squinted and it was clear he was deep in thought.

Amiyah saw the change in his facial expression and looked confused for a moment” What is it?”

“Oh it’s nothing,” he said, “It’s just that everything about you is… I don’t know… fierce… and I like it.”

His smile indicated that it was a compliment. The twinkle in his eyes when his gaze locked with Amiyah’s indicated something more.

Amiyah kind of stopped for a moment with a loss for words. She saw Nate’s look and could tell there was something deeper to what he was saying. She stopped for a moment the air around her standing still as she looked into Nate’s eyes. “I am not sure what to say here, but there is something about you that makes me go weak.”

Nate decided that was a more positive statement than anything else. For someone as strong, and put together as Amiyah to admit weakness around him was a big vulnerability for her. She didn’t strike Nate as being someone that enjoyed dropping her guard around anyone. That fact that she was doing it now was a big deal, he decided. He made an effort to lean into the vibe she was sending out, and see where it took him.

“You know,” He said with a subtle pause, “there’s worse things that not being on red alert all the time. As long as you’re with someone you can trust.”

He leaned towards her, his eyes still locked with hers. For the first time in a long time, he had absolutely no clue what would come next…

Amiyah looked for a moment and clenched her fist nearly punching Nate before giving him a gentle slap on the face before whispering to him “Close your eyes.” Once he did she planted a huge kiss on him probably one of the best he would have ever had. Something about Nate made her happy and she made a decision like she never had before.

Nate opened his eyes. Perhaps it was the combination of the kiss, or the smack, but the connection between them was electric. He officially liked this girl.

However, it was late, and if she stayed much longer he wouldn’t be able to trust himself.

“I’m glad you dropped by,” He said, standing from the couch, “Two kisses in one day. Not sure I can take much more excitement.” He said with a smile.

Amiyah smiled and pulled her hair behind her ear again “It was the best decision I made today. Don’t think that’s always going to happen.” She winked before getting up and departing heading back to her quarters. There was something about Nate that she really liked and she hadn’t felt that way in a very long time.

Mara felt her stomach growl. It was an hour past her regular lunch period, but she was determined to finish her work. As Chief Science Officer on the USS Venture, Mara Shepard oversaw all science-related missions conducted on and off the ship. For most, she read and signed the reports and forwarded them to the captain. She had five more to go.

“Feck it all, Mara. Yer gonna pass out if ye don’ eat.” The woman switched off her computer, grabbed her PADD, and made her way into the hall. As she began to stride toward the mess, she started to sway. The computer chimed in from her combadge.

“Lt. Shepard. Your blood sugar is dropping. You should consider taking in nourishment soon.”

“Where the feck do ye thin’ I’m going, ya tin can?”

Feeling shaky, Mara bolted for the turbo lift. “Mess,” she said quickly and waited for her floor. Once the lift opened, the CSO bolted forward without a look and slammed into another crewman. The PADD flew out of her hand. She took a dive, bottom first, onto the floor.

“Feckin’ hell! Whatdya dink da hel yer dun?”

Immediately, Mara realized the collision was her fault, but the words were already out. She looked up to see the red-headed CFOO.

“Sorry, aye?” she offered with a sheepish grin.

Lt. Cmdr. Nate Wilmer had just been heading towards the mess hall and lunch, when he collided with Mara Shepard. The fiery haired Starfleet officer was smaller than he was, but had struck him with sufficient force that he felt the impact. Slightly jarred, but coming to his senses first, Nate reached down with a friendly outstretched hand, and offered her a way up from her prone state.

“No, completely my fault. Should’ve watched for red headed tornadoes on this deck.” He said with a charming smile.

He was joking of course, a small one at her expense, but he meant no offense by it.

“Ha! That’s me, a red-headed tornado.” Mara blushed from embarrassment as Wilmer helped the small woman to her feet. “Thank ye fer being so gentlemanly.”

Leaning over to pick up the PADD, Nate quickly retrieved it and handed it back to the young woman.

“Nate Wilmer…” He smiled, “I’m the helmsman.”

“Mara Shepard. CSO around these parts.” 

Nate threw a thumb over his shoulder and with inclusive gesturing he posed an open invitation to the young Lieutenant.

“I was just about to get some lunch,” He said, “Want to join me?”

“Are ye kidding? Mah sugar’s low as it is, and I’m about to pass out just standing here. Let’s go.” 

A few minutes passed and Nate found himself seated at the officers mess. He preferred the booths near the window. Perhaps it was a remnant of childhood paranoia, or years of being involved in away team skirmishes, but Nate never liked having his back to a crowd. Nate sat on the side of the booth nearest the window, stretched out, and relaxed. He’d replicated his usual for lunch, grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup, with a mug of Vulcan mint tea.

He looked over to Mara and listened to her talk. Her accent was a bit thick, but not undecipherable to him. Though he had spent his formative years growing up on Mars, there were quite a few of his relatives back home in Scotland and Ireland. Once and a while he’d travel back to Earth and visit extended family. Hearing her speak in a similar brogue reminded him of being back home on Earth and it put him at ease.

“So, where you from exactly? Galway?” He asked.

For the most part, Mara disliked the mess hall. It was too quiet. The people were fine; those she had met anyway. She was used to the clamor of a pub. That was her refuge. As she sat in the booth across from Wilmer, it dawned on her how fast the luncheon was arranged. Her father, the pastor, would frown on his little girl breaking bread with a man she had just met. She didn’t care, but the helmsman seemed kind enough. 

Famished, Shepard dispensed with her usual and replicated a bowl of stew and a side of mashed potatoes. She mixed both together and began to enjoy. “Ye got the country right. Killarney. Born and raised, mostly. Never left until I went ta Cambridge.” The girl took another big spoonful of stew. “Do I detect a wee bit of Scotch in yer tone? We’re not gonna have a tussle, are we?” she smirked and took another bite.

“Aye, a wee bit,” Nate said, exaggerating his accent and giving her a tiny harmless wink, “Are you kidding me? A tussle? We’re the firecrackers on this ship. I reckon if we team up, its the rest of the ship that has to worry about us.”

Nate was a quick eater, but he slowed things down a bit when company was present. He watched Mara eat her food, and found the smell quite inviting. He pointed to her food with keen interest.

“Whatever that is, it smells amazing.” He said. He continued on sharing more details about his life. “I’m a Mars kid. Grew up most of my life at Utopia Planitia.”

His mind thought back to the synth attack on Mars, and how everything had been destroyed. He hadn’t meant to bring down the conversation, and yet it was relevant to what they were talking about. She’d shared some important details about her life and background, it was only fair that he do the same.

“That was fecked up, right?” Mara often spoke before she thought when being social. Her spoon was halfway to he mouth before she realized her mistake. “Ah didn’t mean ta sound so glib. That was yer home. I’d be pretty pissed if someone did that to Killarney; so sorry, aye. Still, it was pretty fecked up.” 

“Yeah, I know… it was awful,” he said, “But it was…”

He did the math in his head, and realized how many years had gone by since the incident.

“Wow…it just occurred to me, its the 15 year anniversary this year.” He said with a huff, “Wow…guess we’re getting old.”“Fifteen years? Damn. I would have been twelve at the time, I think. Like everyone, I hear about Utopia Planitia. Me Dad was a minister then … still is, I guess. The choir I was in sang a song fer the fallen.” She shrugged. “Not that it did any good, but it’s supposed to be the sentiment, right?” 

Shepard twirled her spoon into the stew and mashed potato mixture. The thought of her own loss came to the front of her mind for a moment. Her brother, sister, and parents. Not all were dead, but they were all out of her life. She shrugged it off and took another bite. “Oh, and this?” She pointed the spoon down at her bowl. “It’s beef stew with mashed potatoes rolled in it. In the academy, I was a slow eater, so I had ta mash everything up to get something ta eat and get ta class on time.”

Nate understood her sentiment. Mara seemed like a nice kid, and though there was quite an age difference between them, Nate could see a long possible friendship between the two of them. They had common ancestry after all. They were countrymen, so to speak. Their family’s were deep and rooted, and it seemed full of faith.

“So young Mara is in the choir, and her father is a minister.” Nate smiled feeling a connection through shared faith, “My family also has a long history of service to the church.”

He took the last bite of his sandwich and focused his attention on his soup.

“Do you still go…to church I mean?” He asked.

Mara was still a slow eater. So despite mixing her food, she was only halfway through her stew when Nate asked about her faith. Not that the subject of religion entered the conversation often, but when it did, Mara often waved her personal beliefs aside. She placed her spoon on the side of the bowl, ready with a casual joke to steer the conversation elsewhere, but instead, the truth slipped through her lips.

“No. I haven’t gone ta church in years.” She thought for a moment; her tongue clicked at the side of her mouth. “I reckon I lost mah way a few years back … the Dominion War.” Mara didn’t elaborate. “I guess I still believe in something, y’know … something like the Eisntienian God, that God is the whole. Although, I don’t give it much thought these days, ta be honest.”

“And do you still sing?” He said with a mischievous smile.Mara tapped the side of her bowl to the tune of the ‘Banana Boat Song.’ “Aye. I still sing now and then.”

Nate was thoroughly enjoying his lunch with Mara. He could see this becoming a regular thing that they did. He hoped that she felt the same. Her company was enjoyable, her sense of humor was refreshing and real. And she had red hair, and how could he beat that? It was one of the better lunches he’d had in a long time. And he imagined that had quite a bit to with her company.

Mara leaned back and patted her stomach. The stew and potatoes had been filling, and the company wasn’t bad either. She didn’t know many on the ship, so lunch with Nate was a pleasant change. He was easy on the eyes and seemed to have just enough ego to helm the ship. And his humor didn’t hurt. 

“Tank ye fer da béile,” she said with a wink, adding a bit of Irish Gaelic for fun. “Ah wouldn’t mind another round sometime.” Mara stood from the table, unsure how to end the conversation. She did not want to become involved with anyone, but a friend was another matter. She didn’t have any on the ship. 

“See ye around, aye?” she said with a smile and wave and headed out of the mess.

The next day on the bridge, Nate found himself reporting for duty a bit early. He was anxious and eager to see Amiyah again, and he was in enthusiastic anticipation of seeing how their developing friendship would play out when working together in a professional setting. He was definitely keen on seeing her again. Her attractive features definitely would improve the otherwise unremarkable landscape of the bridge. Their interactions the previous evening had made him happy and he hoped more might develop between them, given time.

Bouncing onto the bridge with an eager gate, Nate found himself exiting the turbolift nearest the top of the horseshoe. Before his eyes was the one person he was most eager to see. He approached Amiyah without delay. He wasn’t going to stand there all day and socialize, but he figured a brief hello – how was your night, would be appropriate and acceptable.

He walked up behind her and whispered into her ear from behind.

“Good morning.” He said with a smile in his voice. “I had a really great night after you left. How’d you sleep?”

Amiyah was still unsure about the night prior and what had happened she enjoyed it, but she had mixed feelings about what had happened. She stood on the bridge and looked at the turbolift doors as they slid open. She immediately saw Nate and looked back at her console.

He was so chipper to her she kind of looked at him and quietly said “I slept fine.”

Nate immediately noticed an difference in Amiyah’s behavior. Perhaps it was because the environment had changed, or they were at work now, he could not be sure. It may have even been his imagination, but she seemed different somehow. One might have even described her as being colder. Nate had to test the waters to be sure.

“Well that’s good, I can’t say as I got too much sleep at all.” He said with a smile.

Amiyah nodded “I had no trouble sleeping.” She said again with barely any emotion in her voice.

Nate stopped and tried to gauge her emotions through her facial expressions and body language. He couldn’t read either, so he started with a simple and innocent question.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, “Did I do something wrong?”

She looked at him for a moment blankly and shook her head “I don’t know…Nate.” She said quietly. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just I don’t know this is different for me.”

Nate understood. It had been a sudden and crazed 24 hours. So much had happened. He had never met someone that had this much impact on his life on such a short amount of time. Amiyah was amazing, and crazy, and violent and all the things he loved in a girl. She had taken his world, picked it up and dumped it completely upside down in a single day. And in the middle of all of his crazy nebulous feelings, he never once considered what impact this was having on her.

He smiled and nodded.

“I understand,” He said tenderly, “I just wanted to let you know I had fun last night and I hope we can do it again sometime. Whenever you’re ready.”

Amiyah had a fire in her heart she had never had with anyone else. She walked up to Nate and whispered in his ear “The next time we might get into trouble.”

Nate knew what she meant, but it was impossible for him to stop now. He couldn’t simply turn his feelings on and off like an old fashioned light switch.

“You know what, Amiyah…” He said with an honest pause, “…too late. I’m already in trouble.”

Amiyah surveyed the Bridge seeing if anyone was there when she knew no one was she gave Nate the most passionate kiss he had ever received if she had to guess. “Screw these doubts your mine.”

Nate was taken completely off guard, and found himself momentarily worried that the Captain might walk in at that moment. However, after 25 years of service to Starfleet, if he had to receive a formal reprimand for kissing a girl like Amiyah while on duty, then it was totally worth the risk. He allowed himself to wrap his arms around her and completed the kiss, returning the passion he received.

This was the best day of his life.

“Wow.” Was all he could say; all that needed to be said, really.

Amiyah kissed him again only coming up for air. Something about Nate changed her mind about how she acted. She finally let go and smiled “You better not hurt me Nate or that kiss will be something you regret. You have seen me fight.” She said though smiling before walking back to her console and taking her station again.

Nate smiled and considered the threat real. However, hurting Amiyah was the last thing on his mind. He wanted whatever kind of relationship this was turning into, and he wanted it bad.

“Any man who hurts you deserves to have his face busted.” He said with a charming smile.

And he headed down to his station at the helm. He didn’t know how he was going to get any work done today. There was only one thing on his mind now…

The hour was early for a ‘late’ wake up call, but it was still too early for the executive officer to have been summoned to the bridge. Two hours before his shift meant that Commander Aamin Dahl was looking rather sleepy, leaning on one hand of the turbo lift as it made the short incline to the bridge. Running a hand through his considerable brown locks, the Trill let out an almighty yawn, just in time for the doors to open and for the waiting commanding officer to see his XO’s tonsils.

“Tired, Number One?” Thaddeus chuckled, gesturing to the left with his head and setting off towards the StratOps briefing area. “We’re just waiting on Amiyah and then I’ll fill you in on what’s occurring,” the Terran told, tapping at a console on the port bulkhead. “You might want to check this out,” he suggested to the first officer.

With the second officer having also been called to this early gathering, the XO knew something was up, and so dutifully headed to the display and silently looked it over, trying to make sense of what he was seeing at zero-five-hundred in the morning.

Amiyah had not expected to be up this early and blinked a few times before her confirmation of the orders. She grabbed her cup of coffee and made her way towards the bridge. She had been called to early meetings before but without coffee she would not be functioning. 

She took a sip of the coffee as she walked onto the bridge seeing the CO and the XO present. She knew something was happening for the three of them to be present.

“Commander,” Thaddeus nodded to the younger Terran, a wave of his hand welcoming her into the StratOps suite at the aft of the bridge. “We’ve received orders to investigate a distress call,” the Captain revealed to his second officer.

Such an endeavour wasn’t unheard of, even for a vessel of such significance as Venture, but it was the nature of the distress call that warranted the early wake up call. Tapping the nearby console, the Captain brought up the location of the distress call on the larger wall display. “It’s from a Gorn vessel,” he concluded.

Amiyah’s eyes opened wide and she did a small double-take of the information on the screen. She had interacted with the Gorn once in her career and it wasn’t a great experience for her or the away time. She paused “This sounds like a dangerous situation. As someone who has interacted with the Gorn before…I exercise extreme caution.” She said as she tried to stay calm given the flashbacks in her head.

Aamin scoffed as he folded his arms across his chest. Extreme caution? That much was certain. Everyone received briefings on the Gorn every time so much as an iota of new information was received, such was their complex nature and dangerous history with the Federation. “My worry is what brings them into Federation space. Such excursions are unheard of,” the Trill frowned, looking at the map and making a mental note of the ship’s distance from the Gorn border.

“We’ve got very limited intelligence at present,” the Captain began, “but we should have more by the time we reach their position. My concern,” he stressed as he, too, focused on the screen, “is why none of their people have responded. They could be in and out before any Starfleet asset reaches them, but not one hint of a Gorn response has been received,” he finished.

Amiyah thought closely for a moment trying to think of what to say in the situation. Her thoughts on the Gorn were not like the normal person, as she had encountered them. “This could be a trap to lure our ships in. While I do believe we need to investigate, as it is our duty, I do believe that this needs to be approached with extreme caution.”

Pursing his lips, arms folded across his chest, the Captain glared at the screen for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, he turned to the Trill. “Okay Number One, light the fire,” Thaddeus nodded to his first officer, causing the man to spring into action.

Taking the few steps out of StratOps and onto the main deck of the bridge, the Commander set about giving his orders. “Recall all personnel from the station. Inform the station commander of our change in orders and that we’ll be departing at Captain Scott’s leisure,” the spotted man instructed as he made his way towards the command chair. “Commander Palmer,” he stopped, turning back to the Terran, “have all stations prepare for departure. I want full readiness reports by the start of Alpha shift.”

Amiyah nodded and immediately sent the orders for all departments to prepare for immediate departure. She made sure to add that readiness reports were due by the start of Alpha shift. She checked her department first and checked off the list knowing her department was set. She walked to the Commander “Here is my department’s report. We are ready, Sir. I am getting other reports of readiness as well. I will forward those reports as soon as I have them.”

Returning to the command chair at the center of the bridge, the Captain watched as his people worked. Departing a starbase was as easy a task as a crew could have, but it was essential to make sure everything was in place and ready when doing so under these circumstances. Responding to any distress call was a concern, but from a potential foe inside Federation space? It was enough to explain the tenterhooks everyone seemed to be on. Thaddeus, though, was thrilled to have these people on his bridge, ready to respond.

But what would actually await them when they arrived at the location of the distress call?

Entering the sanctuary of his private abode, Thaddeus ambled over to the sofa in his living quarters and collapsed with exhaustion. Legs hanging over the end of the sofa, he kicked off his boots and tucked a hand beneath his head. It had been a long day so far, especially with the early morning wake up call from the night shift commander, so with the bridge relatively quiet and the XO on watch, he had taken the opportunity to get some rest.

Not that he’d be getting much rest, given the situation they faced in less than a single Earth day’s time. What awaited them all was causing him a great deal of consternation. With a sigh the Captain began his latest log. “Computer, begin recording.”

After the customary confirmation beep from the computer signalled the recording was active, Thad began talking. “Captain’s Log, Stardate 240010.5. We have successfully departed Starbase 11 and are en-route to the location of the distress call from the unidentified Gorn vessel,” his tone was quiet but stern as he spoke, staring at the ceiling above, as if searching for his thoughts. “Continued communication attempts go unanswered, and Starfleet Command informs me that they are having no joy through diplomatic channels either. For now, we press on as normal, with all departments reporting ready and all systems functioning within normal parameters,” at least that part was a little cheerier, right?

“As we get closer, with a predicted ETA of some twenty hours, I wonder if this could be some form of elaborate trap…” he continued, his thoughts wandering a little freer as he began to delve deeper into his concerns. “Although I have never encountered them personally, I’ve heard the stories… I’ve done my research. Fiercely territorial… incredibly strong… vicious…” Spinning on his backside, the Captain placed his feet on the floor and both hands either side of him on the sofa cushion, glaring at the floor. “And what of these breeding parties they have been known to send into the territory of their neighbours? Am I leading my crew into a situation where they will be harvested? Abducted? Taken to these so called ‘harvesting planets’, or simply turned into hosts for their eggs here, aboard Venture?” Shaking his head in a bid to shift the glum expression, he couldn’t help the negative thoughts. “If push came to shove, I’d rather destroy this ship and ensure no such fate could befall my people…” that was the very darkest of thoughts, but on a slightly chirpier note he added more. “But there is much to be done yet.”

Pushing himself up using his carefully placed hands, he rose from the sofa and hobbled towards the glass dining table that dominated his living space. “Commander Palmer is working with our Strategic Operations Officer, Commander Astrid Fleming, on possible tactical and boarding scenarios should communication continue to be a problem,” he told, his tone changing, more optimistic, as he poured a glass of room temperature water. “Our new scientist, Lieutenant Shepard, has been tasked with working alongside her medical peers in order to ensure that we know everything we can, and are as prepared as possible for any encounters we may have,” he topped up the glass and returned to the comfort of his sofa.

“In the absence of department heads for engineering or operations, Lieutenant’s V’lessaa and Nikti continue to perform admirably. Their single objective at this point is to ensure that all systems continue to operate at peak efficiency during this entire scenario,” he was coming to the end of his log now, the audible crescendo there for anyone to hear. But then, the positivity evaporated as he let his thoughts overwhelm him once again.

“Until we know more,” he began, his tone deep yet quiet, “no stone can be left unturned in our preparations. I will not take the chance that this crew will suffer the same fate as the SS Puget Sound…”

For many serving on a starship, the bridge was often the one place that was revered and the focus of their attention, with many striving for the chance to be in on the action from the command center. For others, a select few, there was no better place to be than the true heart of the ship; main engineering itself. For those few, there was nothing that could beat the rhythmic pulsations of the warp core as their vessel hurtled through space at incredible velocities. For Commander Dahl, an engineer in a past life (quite literally as his second host had been an engineer aboard a freighter many years previously), a feeling of intense longing often overwhelmed him and no matter the situation, nothing calmed his nerves or steadied him like a visit to the engine room.

He found himself in need of a calming location this particular afternoon. With all that was going on, and the developing situation with the Gorn, the Trill found himself feeling more than a little tense. So, true to form, he had arrived in engineering and, for however long he had been there, he’d stood at the rail surrounding the upper platform. Hands clasped on the rail and, more importantly, with eyes closed, the Commander’s breathing had steadied to its own rhythmic pattern, almost as if in sync with the pulses of the core. He was so calm, so focused, that he never heard the footsteps approaching from behind until a voice startled him.

“I have never understood the human connection with the warp core,” Lieutenant V’Lessaa  remarked, raised eyebrow and all, as the executive officer practically jumped out of his skin. “Apologies if I startled you, Commander…”

Closing his eyes again, the Commander took a deep breath. “It’s calming,” he told the Acting Chief Engineer, “tell me, what do you see, or hear?”

Clasping her hands together behind her back, the Vulcan raised a different eyebrow this time. “I see an observable gauge of engine performance. Harmless secondary photons emitted from the inner layers of the core, providing a visible, pulsating blue glow. The speed in which these photons travel is connected with the speed of the vessel itself,” V’Lessaa explained to the man, entirely unsure of what he wanted her to say. “Curious. You were an engineer, were you not?” she asked him.

“Mmmhmm,” Aamin nodded, eventually opening his eyes and staring with joy at the warp core.

“Then surely you are aware of what is before you,” the Vulcan asked, stepping forward and standing beside the first officer, looking out at the core she was responsible for maintaining.

Aamin laughed. “I am, Lieutenant. I am,” he shook his head slowly, “what can I do for you?”

V’Lessaa presented the Trill with the data PADD that had been hidden behind her back. “Our status report. I can confirm that all systems are operating at normal parameters, save one…” she pointed to one particular section of the report. “We are having a little trouble with the targeting array, but I have enlisted the assistance of Lieutenant T’Mia from tactical operations and estimate we will have the problem fixed in a matter of hours,” she assured him.

Nodding along as he read the PADD’s contents, the XO had no qualms with the issue or her estimation of the repairs completion. He’d worked with the Vulcan on a number of occasions, even recommending her for transfer to the ship almost a year ago from their previous posting, the Ulysses.

“Keep at it,” he nodded in acknowledgement, handing the PADD back to her. “If you need anyone else from anywhere, take whoever you need,” the Commander authorised before tapping the rail with his left hand. “I’ll be on the bridge if you need me,” he smiled, turning and heading away.

V’Lessaa watched as the man left. “Your presence is always welcome, Commander,” the Vulcan called after the executive officer, before heading off to rejoin her colleagues in their work.

Nate returned to his quarters after the long day at work. His quarters were his place of solitude; the one place where he could collect his thoughts without distraction. However, today, there was a disquiet he had brought with him to his place of rest.

The Gorn.

It was a terrifying idea, to confront Gorn. He had never personally run in with one before. He did not hope this mission would be his first time doing so.  Gorn were notorious creatures of combat, one of the most alien examples of life a human could compare themselves to. They were not known for compassion, or emotional weakness.

Nate tried to distract himself from his fears and concerns with all of the things he liked best. He replicated himself some Vulcan mint tea, but found he was not in the mood to drink it. He filled his afternoon with the tiny minutiae of daily tasks. He watered his plants, straightened up the books he’d read the night before, and returned them to their shelves.

Nate wasn’t afraid to die. He’d encountered death before as a Starfleet officer. He’d fought in the Dominion Wars and death was always a constant companion in those days. It was not truly a concern with the Gorn, save for the fact that they were no strangers to combat.

If necessary he would kill in order to protect his ship and crewmates. Though he did not imagine there would be much of a reason that the captain would be calling him to any away missions. As the chief helmsman it was his primary responsibility to get them all from point A to point B.

No, if anything, if the ship would go into potential combat with the Gorn, or any other aggressor then Nate would be responsible for making sure they did not take any hits from enemy fire. The tactical officer made choices of life and death using security as their primary skillset. Nate’s bread and butter was maneuvering; getting the ship to respond and respond quickly.

There was no greater asset in battle than not taking a hit.

Nate stopped thinking about combat, death and war. He wanted to do something fun.

He plopped down on the couch and positioned himself to the nearest large monitor which was on his adjacent wall.

“Computer, play Friday the 13th part II.” He said with a smile on his face.

The compute responded bringing up one of his favorite slasher movies; or rather one of his favorites in the genre of that type. Many humans didn’t celebrate Halloween anymore, and with good understanding. It was an ancient pagan holiday, which few observed anymore. However, Nate was a horror film buff. And whether it was Halloween, or just any regular old day, he found that ancient cinematic serial killers, chasing around half naked, bad acting bimbos calmed his nerves after a long day.

Yes, Nate was a man of simple tastes. He didn’t read much Shakespeare, he wasn’t one for deep conversations, or to burden others with this troubles.

Sometimes all he needed was a beer, and a great movie. And tonight, he gave himself just that.

 Let everything else be damned until tomorrow…

Captain’s log, supplemental.

 

Events have taken something of a turn in the last twenty-four hours.

 

Only a number of hours out from our destination, sensors ceased the detection of the Gorn distress beacon. Upon reaching the location, a complete sensor sweep indicated no debris, no trace of weapons fire or warp signature decay. Nothing. It was as if there was never a Gorn presence there at all. Scans of the Gorn border indicate a distinct lack of activity, which is unusual for such a territorial species.

 

Upon reporting our findings to Starfleet, we have been ordered to hold position and await the arrival of the USS Scarborough, a California-class vessel carrying crew replacements. A number of our crew, including Commander Wilmer, have been swiftly reassigned due to the developing ‘Blood Dilithium’ crisis in the Delta Quadrant. Starfleet won’t allow us to take part in operations relating to this crisis due to our role ‘flying the flag’ in the southern reaches, so for now we will remain on station and ready. Ready for anything. Whilst Commander Dahl had been due to take up a position elsewhere, I have asked him to remain in his role as executive officer until further notice, which he has thankfully agreed to. His presence and lifetimes of experience will continue to be invaluable to us moving forward in such a potentially hazardous area of space. Who else will join our intrepid band of explorers, we’re not yet sure, but whilst we wait we will continue to scan for signs of Gorn vessels and monitor local communications.

 

I have a feeling we haven’t seen the last of the Gorn, in any respects…

“I’m a little jealous of you, Lieutenant Edwards.”  The Chief Engineer of the Scarborough was working at a console in main engineering.  “Don’t get me wrong; I love the California class.  They’re quirky.”  He glanced up at the warp core, “But there’s something about the Sovereign class.”

Ebenezer stood beside the Lieutenant Commander, a PADD in his hand.  He’d been notified that his application for Chief Engineer aboard the USS Venture had been approved, and the California had been his transportation across the sectors to where they were now – closing in on the rendezvous point.  He had been surprised at the approval of his application. He had been enjoying his five years on the Polas and had made chief within the last year.  The truth was that his former chief had retired, and he was the easiest solution for the captain. The Polas had been a Reliant class and an improvement over his first assignment, an aging Miranda class.  He stared at the thrumming core, “Her class carried the name Enterprise.  I often dreamed of serving onboard a ship related to the Enterprise.”

The CEO gave him a side look, “Be careful with those dreams, Lieutenant.  Sometimes dreams can lead us to our greatest disappointment.”

Edwards nearly asked him if he’d had personal experience with such a feeling but held his words in his throat.  He had learned that his approach in both word and action often led to awkward silence or embarrassed faces.  He’d resolved to work on this – the USS Venture was a big ship with a big job.  He’d have to find a way to be tall enough to tackle the responsibility.

Soon, the transporter room of the USS Venture was before him, and his bag was slung over his shoulder.  The officer at the console looked up as Ebenezer ambled up, “Lieutenant Edwards.  Permission to come aboard.”

The man glanced at the console as his fingers tapped to the roster, “Ebenezer Edwards, Chief Engineer.  You’ve been assigned quarters, and you’ve been granted access to the LCARS system.”  Another tap on the console, “Captain requested to meet with you on your arrival.  He’s in his ready room on the bridge.”  Edwards gave a nod and headed out the door.  His eyes went wide in the corridors as he walked.  Starship design had come a long way from the days of the Constitution class.  Corridors were wider, the lines smoother – colors were more coordinated and smooth from deck to deck.  He’d studied the transition from the Galaxy Class to the Sovereign – it had been a bonanza for new ideas and new looks.  He was a sucker for the former – the way the saucer and secondary section looked was something you never forgot when you saw it up close.  He’d been fortunate to see one in the wild, and his jaw had never really closed from the awe it inspired.

The Sovereign was a similar experience.  The look of her was sleek, almost sexy.  She looked as if she was ready to either flash her eyes at you or go into kickboxing mode on your head.  They’d slimmed the ship design into a thinner but longer concept with more teeth and force to fight in the streets if needed.   Ebenezer was a detail man, and he adored the challenge of creating a ship that deferred to both architecture and the demands of a Starfleet vessel.

He had walked into the turbolift and ended up on the bridge, where he once more just stared.  The bridge design of the Sovereign class had become the new standard.  Much like the refit Enterprise of old, the placement of stations, the shape of the space, and where everyone sat or stood – it had become the way much of the fleet looked like.  He’d been studying new designs that had come around in the five or so years – his brain had been alight with studying how to finesse it further all – he’d found a semblance of joy in the research and development of it all.

Edwards gathered himself and approached the door to the ready room. Time to meet his new commanding officer. He tapped the door chime.

Seconds was all it took for a voice from within to beckon upon the sounding of the door chime. “ENTER!” it called.

He stepped in and stood at attention.  “Lieutenant Ebenezer Edwards reporting as requested, sir.” 

Sitting behind the desk, Thaddeus was swamped by data PADDs filled with crew transfer orders, supply requisitions and updates regarding the mysterious ‘blood dilithium’ that every ship in the fleet seemed to be dealing with except Venture. “Yes?” the man asked of the person crossing the threshold to his office, without even giving him the chance to enter the room properly.

Edwards didn’t immediately respond.  Had the man not heard him the first time?  He rubbed his fingers together at his side as a way to express the nervous energy that was now rattling around in his mind.  He tried again, “Lieutenant Ebenezer Edwards reporting as requested, sir.  I’ve been assigned as your Chief Engineer.”

Eventually, Thaddeus let out a wry smile and shook his head as he rose to his feet and proffered his hand. “Sorry, Lieutenant. Long day. Welcome to Venture,” his eyes widened slightly at the realization of the foolish error he had just made himself, hoping the newcomer would forgive him as he gestured to the seat opposite him with his free hand.

Ebenezer shrugged an indifferent shrug as he shook his new CO’s hand, “It’s agreeable to be here, sir.  Thank you.”  He took the offered seat and glanced around the room.  He was tempted to compliment the room, but he knew if he did, he would probably ramble on about the Sovereign class and how he’d been waiting for this day most of his life and that bridge is gorgeous and….he had to shove that line of thought into a locked closet in his mind.  He was sitting across the table from his captain – a man who had earned those four rank pips.  He was still just a lieutenant.  He needed to act less like a starry-eyed cadet and more like a serious-minded officer.  This was going to be very hard.

“So…” Thaddeus watched as the engineer took his seat across from him, and only when the man looked comfortable did he ask his question. “Ebenezer. That’s an unusual name, even in this day and age. What’s the story there?”

Edwards chuckled dryly, “My parents named me after a great great great grandfather who was named after…well, you know how it goes.  Families sometimes pick names for their children that make life difficult in the early years.”  He sighed, “It’s a proud name with a proud history.”

“And I am certain you will add to that proud history by the time your posting aboard ship is complete,” the Captain smiled at the man. He then began rummaging in the pile on his desk for a data PADD, which toppled a few others when he finally produced it. “This is a complete update on all ship’s systems,” he advised the engineer.

Ebenezer scanned through the list, “I will get to work on this immediately.”  He stood and then realized he hadn’t been dismissed.  He sat down again, haltingly, “Unless there was more that you needed, Captain.”

“Honestly?” Thaddeus let out a sigh that adequately signaled the resigned feeling he felt. “I just want a ship that works and a steady crew right now. If you can take care of the former, I’ll take care of the latter,” the Captain smiled.

Edwards smiled broadly, “She’ll work, sir.  Even if I have to get out and push.”  He stood again, “I’ll get on it right away, Captain.”  He accepted the nod from his CO and was out the door, headed for engineering.

In the sorrow of death is the proof of love, of the bonds that exist beyond our reality, beyond spacetime, matter and energy that makes the universe real. But the pain felt in achieving that proof, of fully appreciating the bonds that tie people together, had proved too much to bare for many on the Starship Ulysses. The tragic passing of their friend, their Captain, in the most horrendous of circumstances, had caused the crew of the mighty Galaxy-class ship to splinter. Some, like Lieutenant Prida and Commander Noli had taken a leave of absence to get their heads together. Commander Gor had resigned from Starfleet completely, taking the time to go home and see his family. Many others had jumped at the chance to move ships and join the USS Intrepid on a new adventure, far away from the tragedy that had befallen them and under the command of a former colleague. But for the officers queuing in the transporter bay of the USS Scarborough, they had not been given the choice. They had been directed to report for reassignment to a vessel in need of their specific talents, and had shipped out rather rapidly, expecting to meet Venture at Starbase 11. A premature departure for the Sovereign-class explorer to deal with a possible Gorn distress signal had seen their arrival delayed, but they were finally on the brink of reporting aboard their new ship.

For Lieutenant Linn Mora, this was the first time he had been on a ship not overseen by Commander Gor in years. He’d served with the Tellarite on the Temeraire, and before that, the Fitzpatrick, assignments that took him back just over ten years. He’d probably known Captain sh’Elas less than anyone on the Ulysses crew, having always distanced himself in a bid to keep their relationship professional, but that didn’t stop the Bolian from feeling her loss just as much as the others. He’d held her in the highest of regard, a respect he had for very few people, and he knew she would be sorely missed by many.

For his blue-skinned companion with the white mane and the antennae atop her head, the loss of the Captain probably felt worse. Tempestava th’Zorati, or ‘Tempa’ as her friends called her, had only ever served under the command of the Andorian Captain ever since graduating from the Starfleet Academy complex on Mellstoxx III almost two years ago. Whilst her career had been relatively uneventful by some comparisons, the young Aenar had blossomed of late and become an integral part of the rotating bridge crew on the Galaxy-class starship, having followed sh’Elas from the Santa Fé, to the Temeraire and finally to the Ulysses. She felt the loss of the Andorian deeply, and had even been involved in transferring the Captain’s remains back to their homeworld. But, like her Bolian colleague, a move to Venture allowed the youngster a fresh start, even if she would have preferred to perhaps join the Intrepid with her friends.

The queue to transport to the renowned Venture was significantly longer than either had expected, held up by departures from the Sovereign-class vessel as well as those intending to board the ship. By the Bolian’s estimation, they were still a good few minutes away from transport. 

The older Betazed woman arrived last. ‘Oops, that’s embarrassing,’ but she had had a lot of things to handle. She pulled along her cart full of medical supplies, a few PaDDs, and extra uniforms. You never knew what you might face. With a quick cadence, she stepped aboard the transporter. Moments later, she rematerialised aboard their new ship. At full attention, she rose to her full height, and spoke. “Lieutenant Commander Lahki Bakshi, CMO, reporting for duty. I apologize for my tardiness, the delivery of the supplies took longer than expected.” She smiled a little-it was nice to be back on such a renowned ship. She took a seat nearby, and waited for final pass downs.

Linn and Tempestava shared an awkward look, made all the more awkward by the fact that one of them was blind, and yet they still understood the ‘look’. Eventually, though, the Bolian stepped over to the woman and offered his hand. “Hi there,” he grinned, “Lieutenant Linn Mora. I’m the new Chief of Operations.”

Lakhi smiled warmly at the man. “Nice to meet you,” she took in the other person’s appearance. “And you, too, Ms.” She was polite and friendly, trying to pump the feeling of calmness into the room.

Moving closer to the transporter pad, the Bolian assisted his Aenar colleague along with him, but stopped to gesture for the new Chief Medical Officer to join them in this cycle of boarding. “There’s space for another, Doctor,” he smiled.

Lakhi nodded, and stepped next to them. “Thanks. I am looking forward to this. It will be nice to be back shipside.” She didn’t elaborate.

“Venture is a new challenge for many of us,” the young Aenar smiled, looking toward the Doctor whilst being guided to her particular pad by her Bolian counterpart.

In a matter of minutes, the three (accompanied by a further four people at the back of the pad) rematerialised on the transporter pad of their new starship. Just looking around the room they now found themselves in, they could tell they had upgraded.

“Well,” Linn smiled as he took Tempa by the arm and guided her from the pad, “I’m sure we’ll see you around soon, Doctor?”

After a few minutes, they had arrived not he new ship, and Lahki felt her stomach tighten a little, with a mix of excitement and also trepidation. She was picking up mixed signals from everyone, and it was a little bit overwhelming. She forced her mind to be blank and calm, grabbed her cartful of stuff, and headed off to find the MedBay. “Yes! Hopefully on this side of the Sickbay.” She turned back, and went to the left.

With Scarborough far in the distance, Venture had begun her cautious approach to the Gorn border once again, and the composition of the people on the bridge looked far different to before. It would take time for the group to gel, but Thaddeus didn’t have the luxury of time; the missing Gorn signal had appeared once again, this time in a different location approximately three light-years from its last sighting, and seemingly deeper into Starfleet territory. Commander Dahl had been tasked with bringing the new personnel up to speed on matters, allowing the Captain to focus on the situation and its developments. There was still the slim possibility that the signal was just some sort of ghost, but the longer it remained in place, the less likely that scenario became. Most likely in his head, the Gorn ship was in trouble and in need of help, but he couldn’t rule out the troubling possibility that their move was an aggressive one. Could this be the prelude to a new offensive of some kind? Only by arriving at the signal’s location and investigating further could this be determined.

“Helm?”

Although this was her first assignment as a department head, Tempestava was thriving off of the increased responsibility that had been thrust upon her. Part of that included the fact that she seemed in tune with her new commanding officer already. Tapping at the tactile LCARS display in front of her, the Aenar pulled up the information the Terran wanted.

“We’ll be entering visual range in five minutes, Captain. Estimated time of arrival is twenty-five,” she informed the bridge crew.

“Lieutenant Shepard?” the spotted XO called out from beside the Captain, “anything further from sensors?”

The Gorn. Mara’s only contact with the species had been through second or third-hand stories and a mandatory course on alien relations at Starfleet Academy. Starfleet’s description of the Gorn was straightforward enough – reptilian, intelligent, bipedal, cold-blooded, territorial, and highly aggressive. Personal descriptive accounts varied for some unknown reason, but all confirmed they were not to be underestimated. And while adult Gorn were terrifying on their own, stories of their young and incubation of said young were the stuff of nightmares.

“Aye, uhm gettin’  –  I’m receiving a reading of electromagnetic radiation. It’s steady, every two and a half seconds, likely a pulsar from a neutron star.” While the find had nothing to do with their mission, neutron stars were exceptionally rare. Typically the size of an average metropolis with a mass of 10 to 25 solar masses, a neutron star was the densest object in the known universe outside of a black hole. “The radiation is likely affecting sensors, and why we haven’t picked up any other signals. In the meantime, the anomaly warrants a flyby at the least, y’know, after the mission and if we don’t get eaten or anything.” The Lieutenant gazed at the faces on the bridge. “What? Everyone’s thinkin’ it. I thought I’d cut the tension.”

Thaddeus shared a subtle smirk with his XO before turning ever so slightly in his chair to face the science officer. “Maybe keep those theories to oneself, Lieutenant? There haven’t been any records of such events for quite some time, and there are a number of Gorn who have successfully made a life for themselves elsewhere, including in Starfleet,” the Captain reminded everyone, despite being worried himself. “We will, however, proceed with greater caution. Commander Dahl, make a note to Starfleet that the neutron star in this sector deserves further analysis, and we’ll do so upon the completion of our mission, should they choose not to send someone else in the meantime,” the Terran from North America added.

Glancing across at the XO, Mara then looked at the Captain and nodded. “As you wish, Captain.”

Nodding, the Captain moved on. “Commander Usmanov,” he called to the woman behind them at the tactical Arch, “take us to yellow alert.”

“Yes Captain,” the Russian at tactical responded in her thick accent, tapping away at the controls to adjust the alert status of the ship.

In the Medbay, Lahki heard the yellow alert. Great. She sighed but stood up. “All hands!! All hands! Yellow alert!” For them, that meant getting a triage station set up, and putting all current patients-there weren’t any-into shields for safety. She hauled ass to the clinic area, and tapped her comms. “Medbay is on standby.” 

Engineering was slowly taking shape.  Lieutenant Edwards had taken the status report the captain had given him and quickly assigned teams to address what they could in the short term.  His assistant chief had been responsive to his actions, but he hadn’t had the chance to sit down with her and discuss anything aside from what was immediately ahead of them.  Suddenly the soft klaxon for yellow alert sounded throughout main engineering, giving Ebenezer pause.  Engineers were the people that kept the ship going.  A yellow alert was just a step away from Red Alert.  There was little time for deliberation.  He had hastily put together damage control teams with Lieutenant Junior Grade Meniz as the point of contact.  They would be dispatched across the ship to address any repairs needed.  He’d then worked through the roster to put together groups and teams in main engineering who were in charge of ensuring the working operations of the room.  He tapped his communication badge as the lights in the room shifted to a dull yellow, “Chief Edwards to all engineering teams.  Damage control to your muster stations.  Engineering teams report to your stations.  Be ready.”  He turned his attention back to the console in front of him.  The Venture was proving to be an interesting and surprising assignment.

Rocking from side to side ever so slightly in his chair, the Captain watched as the status reports filed in, confirming that everyone was ready should anything of concern develop. It was time to find out.

“Entering visual range Captain,” the Aenar at the CONN called out from her position, antennae bobbing freely atop her silver locks.

Inching forward, Thaddeus was on tenterhooks as he perched on the edge of his seat, hands grasping the arms of his chair. This was it; the moment of truth. “On screen,” he ordered.

Within a matter of seconds, the holographic view screen at the front of the bridge powered up and replaced the bulkhead wall with an image of space…

…and a Gorn vessel that had, apparently, suffered some significant damage.

“Red alert,” Commander Dahl ordered, turning in his chair to almost scowl at Usmanov for not preempting his order upon the sight of the Gorn vessel.

If the XO was annoyed with the tactical officer, it was nothing compared to how she was feeling herself. Her biggest critic, the Russian tapped furiously and dimmed the lights across the ship, replacing them with the trademark red of the highest alert status.

“Lieutenant Shepard,” Thaddeus called, turning his chair just a fraction to look towards the scientist, “can you get a detailed report on the ship?”

“Aye, sir,” Mara called out in her Irish brogue. “Readings are coming in now—The warp core is dead, and I’m getting readings of significant radiation damage and a plasma leak from engineering.” On the view screen, the plasma leak originating from engineering was visible. “Impulse is out. Power is out on all decks. She appears to be operating on battery only.”

Shepard, ready at the console under yellow alert, spun toward Captain Scott. As requested, she kept her thoughts to herself, but the Gorn ship was “Inna fecking shite n shot ta hell.”

“No life signs detected at all, sir.”

Thaddeus turned in his seat slowly and leaned in towards the XO, his voice lowered to a whisper. “Number One?”

Subconsciously mirroring the movements of his commanding officer, Aamin leant in towards the center chair and lowered his own voice. “I think an armed away team is mandated at this point,” the Commander suggested, his gaze resting entirely on the view screen. “Fully armed. We don’t want to take any risks. But something happened over there, and we need to ascertain what it was, and if there is a possible threat emerging in this area,” the Trill advised.

Nodding along the Captain let out a smile at the conclusion of the Trill’s words. His suggestion was exactly what Scott had been thinking, and that was always pleasing. Knowing one’s XO was on the same wavelength mattered; it made decision-making far easier.

Rising to his feet and tapping his commbadge, Aamin made for the turbo lift. “Engineering, medical and security teams to transporter room one,” he instructed.

“Usmanov, Shepard; join the XO on the away team,” the Captain ordered.

After tapping her controls and dispatching instructions to her security teams, the Tactical Officer handed off control to her Vulcan subordinate and silently, stealthily, moved into position behind the XO in the turbo lift.

“Aye, Sir! Un me weh!” Mara quickly left her station with Ensign Brooks replacing her on the science board. She moved with the XO Dahl and Tac Ops Usmanov to the turbolift. In the lift, Shepard remained silent and calm, but her thoughts were buzzing. ‘Whet the fecking hell could’a dun this to the Gorn? Do I even want ta know? She maintained her silence until the lift reached its destination.

Back in the MedBay, the CMO had brought the EMH online, just in case, and was preparing as many triage beds as she could. She and the nurse worked in quiet tandem, one behind the other, and then she turned to the Nurse. “Ensign Sy’var. I’ll go with the team. Use the EMH to fill in if you need to. I am on Comms, but I can’t ask you to risk your life just yet.” The young Vulcan had plenty of time for danger. The Betazed doctor was seasoned, and if something happened, she was fine with her life ending here and now if it came to that. Plus, her name was Lahki-sounding like “lucky”, and that was a good sign, right?!  Quickly, she grabbed a tricorder and a kit, and hauled herself to the Transporter room. On the way out, she’d tapped a couple of nurses and medics to join her. They’d need it.

She’d arrived at the same time as Engineering, and without a word, stepped quietly into the room, ready to go.  “Dr Bakshi, reporting,” was her only statement. Her face was unreadable but she forced her mind to send out calming waves and she heard the deep sighs around. She wasn’t sure if anyone knew she was Betazoid, and while she didn’t HIDE the fact that she could manipulate emotions, in cases like this? It helped. 

Ebenenzer stepped nervoulsy into the room.  When the red alert had been called, he’d given his crew the mandate that came with the alert level – damage control teams were expanded and the engine room crew was supplemented with some off-duty personnel.  The reality of what was about to happen was becoming clearer and clearer as the seconds ticked past.  There was a Gorn ship out there and they knew enough to be dangerous…but were they safe?  Danger followed the Gorn and even injured they could do a proper job of causing grievous injury.  He wanted to live, especially after getting command of a Sovereign-class engineering room.  He gave a glance to the CMO.  They were all in this together.

Entering into the transporter room at last, the officers from the bridge were the last to arrive. A number of medical, engineering, and security personnel were already present, each member armed with hand phasers, and the latest compression phaser rifles for the security team. “Okay people, listen up,” Dahl called, drawing the attention of all present. “Four teams. Myself, Usmanov, Edwards, and Shepard will each lead a team. Medical, security, and engineering teams will divide equally between the four. My team, we’ll head to the Gorn bridge. Edwards to engineering. Usmanov and Shepard, you’ll take your teams on a deck-by-deck search. We want to secure the ship, but we also want to find out what has happened to the crew and have some sort of answer for when their big, scary brothers come looking for them. Doctor Bakshi, you’re with me on the bridge. Everyone understand?”

Lahki nodded her acknowledgment and stepped forward. “Aye,” she said, thinking quickly. 

“Aye, sir.” Shepard acknowledged the XO’s orders, clipping the phaser and tricorder to her hip. Mara quickly familiarized herself with her small team, Jenkins, Duncan, and Thirre. Of the three, she knew Ensign Jenkins from engineering as they served together during a more mundane assignment. The Lieutenant gave the engineer a quick nod of recognition before she introduced herself to the others, Duncan of security and an Orion from medical.

“Sensors are indicating that environmental systems aboard the Gorn vessel are still functioning,” the transporter chief interjected, “so you’re all good to go sir.”

“Usmanov. You’re up,” Dahl nodded towards the tactical operations officer.

“Da,” the beautiful blonde nodded, leading her team onto the transporter pad at the request of the XO. Within a matter of seconds, the team had dematerialized and the number of people in the room had dropped by a quarter.

“Shepard’s team.”

Initially nervous about the outing, Mara found herself calmer than she should be but thought nothing of it. Besides, she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Then, as part of the second group to transport, Shepard led her people onto the pad. All materialized on the Gorn ship a few seconds later.

Ebenezer forced himself to move and step up onto the pad with his crew.  The next few seconds were key.  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  A second later he spoke, “Energise.”  The whine and the bright lights spun up and took them on their way.

With the third team having been dispatched, the Commander and his team made their way onto the transportation device. With a last glance around the team, the Trill took a deep breath. Transporting aboard a Gorn vessel was not on his bucket list, but here they were.

“Energise.”

Rematerializing in a cluster at the back of a dark room, Commander Dahl’s away team took a moment to let their eyes adjust to the change in aura from the safety of their transport room to… this.

“Fan out, see what you can find…” the Trill ordered of his team, pointing in various directions. “We’re looking for any sign of life, any sign of what happened here,” he called out. By that point, the team were already spreading out across the Gorn command centre, but it was fairly easy to see that there were no obvious signs of any kind of assault on the bridge. No weapon blast points, no consoles that had exploded. No damage of any kind.

“There’s no one here sir,” Ensign Fellowes called out from his position near the front of the bridge.

“No bodies, no sign of life at all…” a second voice retorted, his attention focused on nothing in particular as he visually scanned the room.

“Doctor, see if you can access any of the ship’s records,” Aamin called out to Bakshi, “might be able to tell us what happened.”

She turned to her flank and looked at the console next to her. She pressed a few buttons to see if it would work. Luckily, it did. “It’s on, at least,” she said to Aamin. “I’ll see what I can find out.” An EMH had been loaded. That was a good place to start. 

“Our sensors read no life signs but keep an eye out all the same,” Mara said, leading the team down a corridor lit only by emergency lighting. Cautiously, Mara, her phaser drawn, stepped inside the first doorway. “It looks like crew quarters,” she said.

Duncan stood watch outside the room while the others investigated. “Look at the beds,” began Thirre. “They’re round and concave.”

“Sounds like something a lizard would have for bedding,” added Shepard.

“Is it warm in here to you?” asked Jenkins.

“The temp is up a few degrees from what we’re used to on the Venture,” replied the Orion.

“Anything, guys?”

“No, Lieutenant,” said Thirre. “I see no bodies, no evidence anyone was here at all.”

“Wait,” called Jenkins. The ensign moved toward one of the beds. “Something’s behind one of the beds.” He knelt to retrieve the shiny object. “It’s a pack of protein paste,” he said, examining the packet. “It’s only half full.”

“It looks like someone stowed away contraband,” Shepard said half-heartedly. “They were trying to hide it, but not very well, or maybe they didn’t have time. So make a note of it and move on.” The team then moved from room to room, finding each empty and only sporadic signs of a hasty exit. Another freshly opened protein pack sat on the floor in one area, while another room held evidence of some board game in mid-play. Mara tapped her commbadge.

“Shepard to Commander Dahl. We haven’t found a soul in the lower decks, but there is evidence that the Gorn may have left abruptly. We’ll keep you advised. Moving to the cargo bay next.”

“Understood. Dahl out,” came the reply from some decks above.

As the elevator was out, the foursome used the Jefferies tube to reach the cargo bay. But, again, they found no bodies. Instead, crates were stacked neatly, though one had yet added to the stack. Jenkins scanned the contents. “Mostly protein packs with some other foodstuffs.”

Suddenly, Duncan called out. “Lieutenant! Over here! Quickly!”

Mara and the others ran to the security officer. “Holy shite …”

In an adjacent room from the cargo hold were rows of dead bodies neatly lined in pods. None of them were Gorn. All bore the tell-tale signs of hatchling incubation; their chests burst open. “XO Dahl. We’ve found an incubation chamber, lower decks, port side of the cargo bay. There are dozens of ‘em – human, Vulcan, Tellarite, Andorian. All lined up according to species.”

“Find out what you can Lieutenant, but stay where you are,” Dahl instructed from the Gorn command center, “I’m coming to meet you. Dahl out.”

Bodies. Dead bodies. Various species, in various states of stasis. WHAT THE HELL?? She’d never seen anything like it in her 20ish years of medicine. She was too late, this time, but her senses finally came back to her, and she spoke. “I….uh. I can see what I can find out,” she stepped forward with her tricorder. 

Somewhere in the stern of the Gorn craft, the search team led by Venture‘s Russian tactician patrolled the lower decks in search of anything that might give them a clue as to just what the hell had happened on the alien ship.

“Well, ya’ll, we got bupkis…”

“I will never understand your penchant for whimsical words,” Usmanov responded in her thick Russian drawl and shook her head at the colleague from her department. There was a bit of back and forth between various members of the team until all stopped dead in their tracks outside a large room. Doors remained open a fraction, and light from inside flickered through into the dark corridor.

Utilising the art of non-verbal communication, a few hand signals from the Russian beauty dispatched two members of her team to force open the doors, whilst the rest remained ready for anything, phasers drawn. It wasn’t easy to force the doors, requiring the brute strength of both the Bolian and the Rigellian, but eventually, the doors parted enough for the team to force entry. Leading the way, light beacons on her left wrist surveyed the darkness whilst her phaser remained in the clutches of her right hand.

It was a large, expansive room, devoid of anything apart from a single wall-mounted console and a large set of doors at the other end of the room. The flickering of the console was the sole source of illumination in the room (other than the Federation light beacons).

“Gotta be a shuttlebay,” the engineer in the team told, using his own lights to look at the floor marking, “there are designated zones similar to our own bays.”

“At least there’s no one here…” the Bolian security officer frowned, looking around the room.

“More importantly,” the Russian spoke quietly, folding her arms across her chest, “there are no shuttles here either.”

“So where are they?” the engineer countered.

“Precisely my worry,” Usmanov frowned.

Edwards fought the urge to close his eyes when the transporter had taken them and he fought the urge to close them as the world faded into view.  He glanced around, his nerves jangling at the top of his neck all the way down to his toes.  His breathing became his focus as he slipped out his tricorder, scanning as the team clicked on their lights and the security officers worked to clear the room in near silence.  There was something to be said for the ambient sound of a warp core or engine.  Here, there was nothing.  The shuffling of the feet, the uneven breathing from the gathered team, and the unsettling emptiness of the space.

“Lieutenant, there’s nobody here.”  The security officer nodded at the core, “You’ll know more about getting that thing back online.”

The Chief Engineer returned the man’s nod and motioned his engineering team to gather around the power device. They unpacked their various scanners and equipment as each went to work on the core and the computer systems. The security officers took point at the doors, their eyes searching the shadowy darkness while the wordless work of engineers filled the canyon of silence at last.  Edwards rechecked his scans, “Check me.  That plasma leak?”

Ensign Grayson had walked the entirety of engineering. The damage had been terrible, but he could find no trace of the plasma leak in the engineering area.  “Lieutenant, we detected it from the Venture….and my tricorder and the team’s sensor equipment do pick it up…but not in engineering.  It’s leaking from the hull somewhere just near Engineering.  I’m not sure what’s going on here, sir.”

Edwards felt the jangled nerves tighten further, “Eyes and ears.  Let’s shift toward the area of the plasma leak.  See what we can find.”

“Aye that, Dahl. We’ll have a look-see and stay put. Shepard out.” Mara approached Ensign Thirre, scanning the bodies with her medical tricorder. The Lieutenant knelt beside the medic, taking a gander at the unfortunates for herself. “Find anything, Ensign?”

“The bodies are in a similar state of decomposition, each varying only a few hours from the other as incubation varies between species. Therefore, a likely scenario is that each host was infected simultaneously.”

 “That’s fecked up,” commented Mara. “Have you found any of the wee ones?”

Thirre tilted her head at the Lieutenant. “The wee – oh, hatchlings. No ma’am. I have not.” The Orion pointed to the face of one of the human bodies. “Note how the skin is beginning to mummify, which means it’s been here at least two weeks. Possibly more.”

Mara patted the woman on the shoulder. “Good work, Ensign. If you find anything else, let me know.”

“Lieutenant Shepard,” called Jenkins. “I’ve discovered a database, possibly on the hatchlings. It’s all in Gorn, however.” The engineer stood by the console, ready to transfer the data to the computer for translation.

Mara took a look at the database. She could read some Klingon, but the Gorn language was beyond her. “Try to scrub it first. The Gorn are territorial and may have left a surprise fer anyone who might take a peek.”

“I’ll do what I can, ma’am.”

Mara nodded and checked in with Duncan, the security officer scanning the walls. “Yer not bored, are ye?”

“No, ma’am,” he chuckled. “Take a look at these walls. They’re reinforced – at least two meters deep.”

The Lieutenant backed up, looking at the walls and the room’s layout. “Note the large area in the centre of the floor, circular. It looks like an arena or something of the like.”

“Gorn hatchlings battle one another for dominance. It’s a fight to the death,” added Ensign Thirre.

“Thank ye, Ensign,” said Shepard. She suspected the medic knew more about the Gorn than she let on.

Soon enough, Commander Dahl, Doctor Bakshi and the Lieutenant appeared from a corridor. “Report, Lieutenant?” the XO queried.

Alerted to the XO’s entrance, Mara reported what her team had found. She called on each Ensign to explain their findings. 

Jenkins responded first. “The Lieutenant suggested I scrub the hatchling database, and it’s a good thing I did. The thing had a nasty trojan embedded. The ship’s computer probably could have handled it, but better safe than sorry.”

Duncan stepped forward next at Shepard’s request and gave his report on the fighting arena. Finally, Ensign Thirre explained the state of the bodies.

“All I can say is they have been dead for two weeks or more. The surviving hatchling was likely taken when the Gorn vacated the ship.”

Mara gave each ensign a simple nod in appreciation. “Thank ye.” The Lieutenant addressed Dahl. “We know the ship was used to capture hosts fer Gorn incubation, but nothing here tells us what happened.”

“But where did they go?” Commander Dahl questioned his team, looking around those that were assembled, however, it was an emerging voice from the turbo lift that answered him.

“I can tell you how they left,” the thick accent of the Russian tactician called out as she approached the XO, her team nearby. “We found their shuttlebays and every craft is gone. Wherever they went, they apparently couldn’t do it by transporter,” she added.

Aamin took a deep breath. “That also means they could have gone further than transporter range, meaning our frame of reference for a search has just massively increased,” he shook his head in frustration. “Mara, get Edwards to work on downloading the contents of the ship’s logs and computer core. Anything at all that can help us with this search, find it.”

“Aye, sir.” Mara tapped her combadge. “Lt. Edwards, Lt. Shepard here. Can ye help me with downloading the ship’s logs and computer core? I’m in what appears to be a hatchling nursery on the port side of the cargo bay. Don’t worry. None of the wee buggers are about, but we need to translate those logs. Shepard out.” 

Edwards and his team had found the plasma leak.  It hadn’t been due to damage.  It had been intentionally cut.  They’d rerouted through the wall to stop the leak and moved on.  They’d gotten the call from the Lieutenant and made their way carefully, scanning with eyes and ears turning at every little sound.  It had taken them some time, but they made it to the port side, where Edwards shifted his crew to continue scanning the areas and mapping the engineering of the sections immediately around them.  The Chief Engineer walked over to the Science Chief, “What do you have?”“We’ve got a database over here, apparently full of info on the hatchlings, but it’s all in Gorn.” Mara nodded to Ensign Jenkins as she walked the Engineer Chief to the computer. “It’s been scrubbed for any nasties, but it’s all in Gorn, obviously, and we need it translated.” The Lieutenant also gestured toward the dozens of capsules filled with bodies. “Dahl suggested we do the same with the computer core. We’re likely ta find something about what happened here between the two.”  As she approached the database, a thought came to Mara. She knew where she would go if she didn’t want to be discovered. “Ye know, there’s a neutron star not far from here. Sensors wouldn’t work as well if ye got near it. Just a thought.”  

Mason blinked a few times as he began to regain consciousness, feeling incredibly dazed and groggy. Where was he? What was he doing here? The last thing he could remember was his ship taking heavy fire from several Gorn vessels that his vessel was sent to investigate when it was reported they had crossed into Federation territory. He was on the bridge giving orders when they were hit hard, Mason was thrown into a railing near the operations console, hitting his head hard as he flung to the ground and–black. 

Now, as his vision slowly began to return to normal, he scanned his surroundings and quickly realized he wasn’t where he was supposed to be. He appeared to be encased in some kind of pod and, from what he could tell, there were other similar-looking pods in the room with him. 

But what did that mean? Was he taken, prisoner? And if so, that would mean the Enforcer had been boarded… he shook his head slightly, disregarding those speculations for the moment. Now, his main priority was establishing his situation and surroundings. 

Mason tried to move and dislodge himself from the pod, but was overcome with intense pain from his midsection. The pain was so great, he let out a loud wince as he fought against the pod, but he couldn’t do it. He was no medical officer, but if he had to venture a guess he’d say several of his ribs had been broken and, judging by how hard it seemed to be to draw a breath, they may have punctured his lungs. 

Not seeing any other option currently available, Mason decided to call out and see if his Gorn captures were around and perhaps get some answers to the hundreds of questions going around in his head. “Hello…” He said aloud, weakly at first, and at a volume that he knew was impossible to hear outside of the pod. Mason did his best to draw more breath in and muster all the volume he could in his current condition, then tried again, “Hello!”

Lahki was behind the Commander and security officer, feeling more and more trepidation as she took each step. The normally cool-headed Betazoid was quietly losing her shit. She had seen some things in her time, but this? This was something else entirely. Dead beings of all the races she knew of -plus a few she didn’t- and…no one else around? If she believed in an afterlife, she might think they were being haunted. Or TAUNTED. She spoke, this time to no one in particular. “Do you all hear something?!” She cocked her head to the left-her “better” side as if it would apparate in her brain or something.

Commander Dahl and the nearby security officer looked at the Medical Officer, initial thoughts of her going crazy swirling in their minds until they, too, heard something. It was coming from behind the aft bulkhead. Usmanov was on it in seconds, her tricorder pointed at the wall and conducting a deep-level scan. “There is a hidden compartment,” she confirmed.

Leaning over her shoulder to take a look at the readings, the XO nodded, and then requested permission to take over the device for a moment. When handed it, the former engineer tapped away at the small controls. “If I can locate the correct algorithms, I might be able to…” and within seconds, the bulkhead disappeared into a recess above them, revealing a small room with several large tubes of sorts.

She was glad when the others finally stopped looking at her like she had three heads. “I sensed something…” she shrugged. She nodded when the Commander spoke. “Yes. There’s someone or thing IN there. Somewhere. Can we get an engineer to go in with me? I can get to them, see if they’re injured and that’s why they were left behind. It isn’t dead, whatever it is.” 

Still struggling to breathe, Mason heard the bulkhead door open to the room where he was. He couldn’t see who it was, but he could somewhat hear them. Voices. And from what he could tell, they sounded almost… human. Not having many options, he decided to risk it and mustered all of his remaining strength, striking the inside of his pod several times with his hands to make as much noise as possible. He knew he wouldn’t be able to speak or yell anymore due to his injury, but if it was his crew looking for him, he wanted to give them and himself the best chance to be found.

“Talia…” Dahl trailed off, nodding to the Chief Tactical Officer to take the lead on scouting out the new room ahead of them. Giving it a once-over visually, and then with the returned tricorder, the Russian gave the XO and the rest of the team permission to enter.

“I’m detecting two life signs,” Bakshi remarked as she approached two of the tubes, “both humanoid.” The striking on the pod drew all of their attention to one of the remaining, active devices. “Get them out of there!” Aamin barked.

“Da!” Natalia responded loudly, moving to the pod and surveying it quickly. Several hinges, no visible locking devices from the outside, and no large glass panel as a window. The hinges were the best bet for getting into the pod and so, she drew her phaser once again and pointed it at the lower of the hinges. Two short bursts of phaser fire, and subsequent explosive sparks later, the door to the pod almost burst from its constraints.

Across the room, a second pod was opened similarly, a second humanoid almost falling from the pod and into the arms of Doctor Bakshi.

Natalia and Dahl reached into the first pod and helped the occupant out and to the floor of the room. “It’s ok,” the Trill assured the man, “you’re safe. We’ll get you to our ship and get you the help you need,” he smiled at the human.

Mason looked up at Dahl, nodding slightly that he understood what he said but he was unable to respond. He felt so incredibly light-headed and could barely breathe, but at least Starfleet had found him. All of the strength he summoned to call them, to make noise so he would be found, was gone. The Trill was the last thing he saw before he collapsed and fell unconscious. 

Sitting around the coffee table in the middle of the Captain’s ready room, an unwitting silence engulfed the four occupants of the room. It had been a few minutes since anyone had said anything, so the Captain, being the senior most officer present, took the lead. Leaning in towards their guest slightly, he tried to get their guest’s attention. “Mister Henry?” Thaddeus inquired, “are you ok?”

Mason sat motionless in the chair looking almost like a mannequin or an android, his gaze focused straight ahead but not at anything in particular. He had been lost in deep thought, trying to piece together the events of the past few days. Ever since he regained consciousness in this ship’s medical bay, he was trying his best to remember what happened to his ship, and how he ended up on that Gorn vessel. He was frustrated; frustrated that he was taken prisoner, frustrated that his ship may have been destroyed… But mostly, he was frustrated at feeling like he had been powerless to prevent it. 

“Yes, sir, I apologize.” Mason replied, shaking his head slightly before continuing, “I’ve been trying to remember what happened, remember where my ship and crew might be, but I can’t.” Feeling uncomfortable and slightly restless, he stood up and crossed his arms before going on, “I was on the bridge of the Enforcer… We detected a Gorn vessel approaching us. The Captain decided to keep the shields down as to not provoke them unnecessarily, next thing I knew we were hit.”

He paced the floor a bit as he recalled the last few moments on his ship that, for all they knew, could have been destroyed in the attack. “The Captain ordered the shields up, and just as he did I ordered to lock phasers on target.” 

He shifted his gaze a bit, looking at Captain Scott now, “I was standing near the operations console and was walking back to my station when we were hit again… It was the strangest sensation, at first I thought the gravity system failed but in reality, I was flying through the air towards the bulkhead… I hit my head hard.” 

Mason rubbed his head in the same spot he hit it against the bulkhead, remembering the intense pain he felt immediately afterwards. “I tried to get up, but everything started to go black around me. I stumbled and then collapsed. My next memory is waking up on the Gorn ship.”

Scott and the team had been nodding along, hanging on the newcomer’s every word, intensely curious as to his tale. A few looks were exchanged between them, but all knew what had to be done.

“We’ve not detected any Starfleet vessels anywhere in sensor range,” Scott remarked, “but if we can track down the Enforcer, maybe we can find some answers. Do you think you’re up to helping us retrace your ship’s movements?”

Mason nodded, “Anything I can do to help my ship and crew, I just hope they’re alright.” He stood over his seat, dropping his arms to support himself on the back of the chair before going on, “We had just departed Cestus III and were en route to the Argolis Cluster when we detected the Gorn vessel. We dropped out of warp to investigate their presence in what was clearly Federation space by a large margin, and before I knew it they began firing on us.”

Mason shook his head in frustration, “I wish I could remember more, but here are the last coordinates that I can recall of the Enforcer.” He leaned down and typed the coordinates into the PADD that had been sitting on the table in front of him.

Aamin immediately took ownership of the coordinates, duplicated them for himself and begged his apologies before departing the room to deliver a new set of orders to the bridge crew.

“It is possible that, should we find the ship, there will be nothing left of the crew,” Commander Usmanov reminded those left behind, “but my biggest worry at this point is where the Gorn went. If they aren’t on the Enforcer, where are they?”

Using the provided coordinates, the Captain pulled up the last known location of the Steamrunner-class ship on his display and twisted the screen for the other occupants to examine. “Are you ready to get back to work, Commander Henry? You’re welcome to join us on the bridge,” Scott suggested, eager to get out there and enlist the help of others.

Mason nodded in agreement with Commander Usmanov, “Agreed. It isn’t so unusual that Gorn vessels violate the borders of the neighboring powers, but they usually don’t come this far into Federation space. A raid here or there by a rogue cell, sure, but usually never something like this.” He hoped maybe the Enforcer was chasing them back to their territory, but he knew to temper his hopes and expectations until they could discover what really happened.

When the Captain spoke, Mason stood up straight and fixed his uniform then nodded, “Yes, sir. I appreciate the opportunity and will help in any capacity I can.” He didn’t know what the Captain would assign him to do, but anything to keep his mind busy and focused on finding his friends and ship he was grateful for. He only hoped that they weren’t too late.

Rising from his chair, the Captain nodded to the newcomer and led the way to Venture‘s command center, which was alive with activity thanks to new orders from the ship’s XO.

“Captain on the bridge!” a voice called from the back of the room, a signal to all that Scott was back and in charge again, but gone were the days where officers would stop in their tracks and stand rigidly still. On Venture at least.

“We’re headed for the coordinates from our guest,” Aamin informed the CO upon his emergence from the ready room. “Commander Henry,” the XO pointed to the large suite set back from the main command center, “StratOps is at your disposal. If you can think of anything at all that might help us, let us know,” the Trill nodded to their guest, whilst Usmanov took over at tactical once more.

“Aye, sir.” Mason acknowledged, reporting to his station and pulling up the relevant mission information on his console’s display. 

“Open a channel. All decks,” the Captain requested, looking down at Lieutenant Mora at Ops. A nod from the bald Bolian indicated the channel was open.

“All hands, this is the Captain,” Scott began, leaning on the back of Mora’s chair. “We’re moving into phase two of our mission. Information recently obtained requires us to locate the starship Enforcer, a Steamrunner-class vessel. Until further notice, we will stand down to yellow alert. Mission-critical elements take precedence until further notice, with standard operations suspended where required. Liaise with department heads for further clarification,” he decreed sternly, but when he next spoke, his tone lowered somewhat. “Until we locate the Enforcer, we are working on the assumption that hundreds of lives are at risk. Saving those lives is paramount. That’s all,” and with that, the communication across the ship terminated. Thaddeus made his way to the command pit and took over the center seat once again.

The search for Enforcer was underway.

The passing of time was never easy aboard a starship when a mission of great significance was underway. In this case, the search for a missing starship and its crew had yet to yield any results and the crew were already growing restless. For those that had no choice but to sit back and wait, it was even harder. Hard to do nothing, even harder to go about their normal business when the lives of so many were potentially at risk.

Gathered in StratOps, the invited senior staff had been called to give an update on the search for the Steamrunner-class Enforcer. On the back wall of the strategic operations center, the MSD that would usually fill the space had been customised to function as a reduced viewscreen and was currently displaying a star chart of the ship’s current course.

“We’ve travelled a significant distance in the last two hours or so,” Lieutenant th’Zorati began the report, the Aenar standing near the screen and ‘looking’ at no one in particular. “Sensors have been working at full capacity the entire time and found nothing, except this…” she pressed a button on the console and a peculiar sight appeared.

Standing nearby, the XO had his hands on his hips as he regarded the information shown. “The Mutara Remnant?”

“Aye, it’s a bit of Federation history not many speak of. Lots of cowboy diplomacy, science run amuck, and Vulcan mysticism.” Stepping up, Mara scrolled through her datapad. “In a nutshell, the Mutara Remnant is what’s left of a planet that broke apart over a hundred years ago. Of course, there’s likely radiation and maybe an asteroid belt or two by now.” Her gaze shifted from the XO to Captain Scott. “Any remnant radiation could affect our sensors, so we should prepare, just in case.” The CSO returned to the XO. “If you want to know more, I suggest ye read up on the USS Enterprise 1701 under the command of Admiral James Kirk.”

“It would be an excellent place to hide if on the run…” Usmanov shrugged as she regarded the map on the screen. “It would be difficult to locate a ship of that size in such an area,” she concluded.

“But not impossible,” the Bolian ops chief chimed in. “If we can get the sensors to search for alloys and materials used in the construction of Federation starships, we should be able to locate the Enforcer,” the blue-skinned genius elaborated further.

“And even do the same for the Gorn ship?” Thaddeus suggested, but more as a question than a viable solution.

“Aye, but the inner remnant could be too unstable as the planet was created with protomatter. I bet the protomatter still resides in its remains, which will mean tectonic shifts. Ye don’t want to hide yer ship somewhere ye might find a hunk of an asteroid flying at ye.” Mara shrugged. “At least that could narrow the search down a wee bit.”

“Number One?” the Captain looked to his first officer for his final piece of advice.

Aamin looked over the map again, and then looked to the Captain. “I don’t think we have anything better to follow at this stage,” he nodded in agreement to the suggested plan.

“Tempestava; set course for the Mutara Remnant, full impulse power. Mora, Shepard; reconfigure the sensors as required,” the Captain’s gaze finally settled on their newest colleague, “we have a ship to find,” he smiled.

“Aye, sir!” Mara acknowledged and moved to her station. “Configuring sensors to scan for duranium and like elements.” 

Mason listened to the rest of the bridge crew as they contemplated and decided on how to proceed in the Mutara Remnant. Suddenly, he had an idea and said, “Captain, I’m programming the sensors with the unique signatures of the warp field and impulse engines. If anything else, maybe we can find them that way. The radiation in the system will render the sensors largely ineffective, but hopefully, every little bit helps.”

Sat in the command chair at the heart of the bridge once again, Thaddeus exchanged a knowing smile with the XO beside him. Things were starting to click in this crew – at last.

Mason tapped a few control pads on his console and the display came to life, showing him the Enforcer. He punched into the terminal the exact warp signature and impulse engine signature of his ship, hoping that every little edge they could get would help them find his missing crew. Tapping a few more control pads, he again checked the long-range sensors and communications channels, “Still nothing on long-range sensors and no response to our hails.”

“If the ship has been disabled or warp engines are offline, we’re not likely to detect any sort of power signature,” Linn Mora decried from Ops, “but I am surprised we haven’t detected any sign of materials from her creation. Perhaps she isn’t here?” the Bolian suggested, at great pain to do so because he knew how much this would mean to their visitor.

“We’ll give it another thirty minutes,” the Captain instructed from the heart of the bridge, “scan every inch of the system, every molecule of debris. If there is any chance the Enforcer is here, I want to find her.”

With only thirty minutes left to scan such a wide area, Mara went against her own advice and aimed sensors at the remnant’s center. Her console chimed once. “Captain, I’ve detected something near the inner remnant. Unfortunately, I can’t get an exact lock on the – let me adjust for radiation.” Mara’s fingers flowed across the glass. “A ship of some kind. Guess I was wrong, or whatever they’re running from was worth the risk of hiding in a deathtrap.”

The inner remnant came on screen. A massive cluster of asteroids, held together by their own gravity, still shifting, erupting even after over a hundred years. “Even at this range, ye can see the tectonics shifting in the asteroids, spewing rock like a bullet. That’s not to mention the bits of the core still gathered in the center are hot as hell.”

Mason’s eyes lit up when Mara spoke that she had found the ship, he was looking directly at her until the view screen activated and showed the Enforcer inside the asteroid field. He turned towards Mara again and said, “Are you able to pick up any life signs through the interference?” He knew it was most likely a long shot, but his crew was the first and only thing on his mind. He had no idea what had happened to them, he only hoped they were alright.

Shepard rescanned the ship again, focusing on life forms, but found nothing. She recalibrated the scan and tried again without speaking to the XO or the Captain. “I’m getting something. There are several lifeforms, but the radiation makes it difficult to determine an exact number.” She turned toward the XO, a smile on her face. “But there are warm bodies on board, sir.”

“People, Lieutenant,” the Captain scolded the woman for her cold remarks, “there are people down there. I want to know more about who, or what, they are before I send anyone else into a dangerous situation,” he barked. Thaddeus wasn’t particularly known for having a temper or being quick to anger, but he was clearly showing signs of frustration boiling to the surface. “This is a Sovereign-class starship with one of the best sensor suites in the fleet. If we cannot bypass some frakking radiation to get a better understanding of what is down there, no one will! Make it happen, people,” he instructed sternly, much to the sadistic pleasure of the XO, who loved seeing the Captain be more forceful in his instructions.

Mara had to cringe a little after the Captain scolded her. According to the scans, the ship could be full of cats, for all she knew, but she kept that part to herself. However, upon Scott’s rant about the ship and crew’s failings, Lt. Shepard felt an intervention was required. “Begging the Captain’s pardon, sir,” Mara spun her chair, directing her statement to Thaddeus himself. “The Remnant is the only one of its kind in the entire galaxy, probably the universe.” Her toned softened as she shifted her gave from Captain to XO and back again. “I know yer anxious fer news of the crew, but our scans just aren’t gonna penetrate that thing.” Mara’s gaze shifted to the Bolian, Lt. Mora. “But a probe might, aye Lieutenant?”

Unsure of where to look after being put in the line of fire between the scientist and his new Captain, the Bolian kept his head down and analysed his readings. “I think a probe could work, but it’s no more or less likely than the sensors at this point,” he finally answered after a tense few moments.

It took the Captain every fibre of his being not to toss the science Lieutenant off of the bridge himself, but he’d save his punishment for the insubordination until later. For now, this had to be the priority. “Send the probe,” he responded in a calm, dangerous tone.

Mason watched the joust between the Captain and his crew, shaking his head slightly in disapproval but not enough for anyone to notice. It wasn’t his place to interject, especially since he wasn’t really an officer on board this vessel, but it didn’t stop him from almost saying aloud enough is enough and there were bigger things to worry about. He decided to speak, changing the subject slightly but also refocusing this crew’s attention on the bigger picture.

“Captain, until we can determine if there are in fact lifesigns on board, I believe it would be best to operate under the presumption there are people over there that need our help.” He said looking directly at Thaddeus before shifting his gaze towards the engineering officer once more, “Would we be able to lock on a tractor beam and bring the ship out of the asteroid field? Or perhaps project a deflector field large enough to make an escape route for them to break free?”

Mason hoped the Captain wouldn’t feel like he was overstepping his position, but given the circumstances and that the ship in distress was potentially full of his friends, he would do whatever was necessary to save his crew.

“Every suggestion remains on the table,” Linn plucked up the courage to respond a little louder this time, “until we know exactly what the probe or sensors can determine.” Turning back to his console, the Bolian went about his business once more.

‘I hope it won’t be too long until we find out…’

Less than ten minutes later, a chorus of beeps around the bridge gave the answers the staff craved, but certainly not what they had hoped for. Using her console for the news delivery, the Russian tactical officer’s lowered tone gave the game away.

“Probe has found her exact location,” she revealed and displayed it on the viewscreen. “Judging by the spread of the debris, the ship made impact with the core fragment at some speed, but it was likely not a direct collision,” the Commander told.

“She looks like she was forced down,” Aamin frowned, shifting forward to the edge of his seat.

“Lifesigns?” the Captain called.

From one of the port medical stations, an Andorian medical officer studied the readings. “No life signs Captain,” was her sombre response.

“Number One,” Thaddeus addressed his XO as he rose to his feet, “note the time in the ship’s log. Notify Starfleet Command that we have found the remains of the Enforcer and have begun salvage operations. We’ll collect what we can and return to Starbase at the next opportunity,” the Captain instructed but was very clear in his next insertion into the conversation with his team whilst the XO began his task. “Let’s be clear; until we transport the ship’s debris, we have no idea if the crew died down there, or if they are missing. For now, the search continues,” the Terran told.

“Captain,” Aamin called out, “Starfleet Command has ordered us back to Starbase Eleven. The Scarborough has been ordered to assume salvage operations and will be here before the end of the day,” the Trill revealed regretfully.

Looking at his XO, and then at the sole survivor from Enforcer at present, the Captain shook his head. “Not good enough. Get Commodore Ekwueme on the line and transfer it to my ready room. Helm, hold our position until otherwise notified…”

“…we’re not going anywhere just yet.”

Captain’s log, supplemental.

 

Many years ago, someone very important to me shared a pearl of wisdom that I have adhered to ever since:

 

“Having the courage to stand up for one’s convictions is crucial when sitting at the heart of a bridge, especially when those convictions put us at odds with our superiors.”

 

People are always under the mistaken impression that as a Captain, we can go about things in our own way and follow our own path. It’s true to an extent, and that is often where we come into our own as commanders, but the inevitability of orders hanging over one’s head acts as an anchor to keep us in the here and now. We all have orders to follow: orders we sometimes despise. What we do about those orders says a lot about who we are as officers, as captains… and as people.

 

So, despite my vociferous protestations to the contrary, Commodore Ekwueme has ordered Venture to return to Starbase Eleven. It would seem the good Commodore has no patience for my desire to oversee the continued search for the Enforcer crew. Even when I argued that the presence of Commander Henry aboard the ship made us the perfect unit for the task, I’m told it is a mission beneath our station: that we must tackle new brush fires. Every fibre of my being is telling me this is the wrong decision, and that our search could yet yield results that Scarborough’s won’t. Attached to this log is my official protest to the Commodore’s decision, but, reluctantly, we are now en route to the Starbase. Upon our arrival, Commander Henry will report to the station for evaluation. What the future holds for the rest of us is uncertain; I have been given no indication as to the nature of our new orders, or which fire we will put out next.

 

While I have faith in the abilities of the Scarborough crew and I hope I am proved wrong, I can’t shake this ill feeling that our removal from the search is going to prove…

 

…fatal.

Slipping into her usual orbiting pattern above the planet M-11, Venture had once again arrived at Starbase Eleven, mere weeks since she had begun her journey along the Gorn border. Shuttlecraft and transporter beams alike began the usual process of disembarkation that came with a starship’s arrival in port, and this was no exception, even with the suddenness of her return. Whilst many went about their business with freedom, those acutely aware of what had transpired recently were already in the process of being debriefed, having their logs reviewed and, ultimately, pulled apart.

With the evening drawing in and finally feeling the need to get rest with sleep alluding him during their travels, the commanding officer was relieved to finally tuck himself beneath the bed sheet and rested his head upon the pillow beneath. His hands travelled beneath the duck feather pillow and propped him up a little, his eyes dropping almost instantly until, finally, sleep caught up with him. It was a restful sleep, too, for there was none of the usual to-and-fros that would result in the captain waking from his slumber multiple times during a night. No, this sleep was so peaceful that he didn’t even hear the communiqués from the bridge; the door chime to his quarters ring out; or even the footsteps that inched towards him. Soon, a figure lurked over the sleeping man, watching him for a moment before reaching out, and placing the fingers of their right hand on the captain in an effort to jolt him awake.

“Captain?”

“FUCK ME!” Thaddeus yelled as he bolted up and damn near headbutted the figure who had been lingering over him. Thankfully, the figure retreated just in time to avoid a broken nose, or worse. Attempting to get his breathing in order, the Captain took several deep breaths and focused on the individual now standing further away.

“Natalia?!” he finally spoke, confused by the presence of the tactical officer in his bedroom at such a time. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?” he queried when calm enough, knowing the woman well enough that she would only disturb him if it was a serious matter.

It was then that his focused eyes moved past the security chief and landed on the two yellow shirts standing behind her, at an even safer distance.

“Captain… I need you to get dressed and come with me sir,” the Russian replied in her trademark drawl, but quieter and more defensive than usual; not at all like she would usually be.

“And go where, exactly?” he inquired, swinging his legs off the edge of his bed and planting them in the incredibly furry slippers beside his bed.

“Into custody sir,” the Russian responded with a very audible sigh, “…you’ve been relieved of your command aboard Venture, effective immediately…”