The small convoy fleet of vessels was laid out across the speckled darkness of space, magnified into detail even at this great distance by the Bridge’s Main Viewer.

Commander Vaelana t’Kaeyn, formerly of the Romulan Star Navy, sat perched forward on her command chair and dais, studying the motley assortment of merchanteers, civilian warp-shuttles, and freight transport as they arrayed themselves up into a roughly defensive formation…they were in a rough patch of space after all, and there were all sorts of predatory elements abound.

Vaelana and her crew of former officers and soldiers, were some of them, in actual fact. The veteran Romulan tactician and ship captain peered deeper into the view screen with her distinctive blue eyes for what seemed like a small pensive eternity…like a hawk sighting it’s prey precisely so it’s diving kill shot wouldn’t miss.

“Tactical Status?” She inquired to the older Romulan male manning the primary weapons control station.

Like Vaelana, he wore a more an eclectic assortment of gear and fashion choices over what remained of his original black and brown checkered Star Naval uniform…since the stellar decapitation and sundering of the Star Empire, ex-Centurion Hakus had began collecting small trophies and momentos from his conflicts…he had an armoured Klingon baldric sash across his torso, festooned with smaller fetishes like empty Ketracel White injector vials, Ynar data crystals, Bajoran earrings, a Tamarian honour-knife…all were adhered with a molecular bonding compound to the sash.

“Cloaking device is working at full power. We remain undetected.” He stated, his voice thick with a Southern Romii accent, even though Romii nor it’s South no longer existed. “All torpedo launchers are loaded with Plasma warheads, medium standard yield. Our disruptors and shields are set to rapid-cycle as soon as the cloak lifts. Our projected margin of weakness is only .9 seconds.”

“Point-9?” Vaelana echoed with a stern frown falling upon her face. “Why so slow?”

“Apologies Commander!” Came a voice from one of the stations at the aft of the bridge.

Vaelana spun her chair around and found the source of the apology, Chief Engineer S’Vara, a Reman combat engineer who in spite of her heritage, had ascended to the position on the novel suggestion of the previous Chief Engineer who had an eye for technical talent and had felt no constrained by the discriminative policies of a Navy that had effectively ceased to be.

“The plasma-fusil ducts are still out of alignment from our tangle with that Federation destroyer last week.” S’Vara explained, her face hard to read due to the concealing dark goggles she wore to adjust to the bridge lighting. “My teams and I have done all we can to correct the issue, but full efficiency of the system can only be restored with a visit to a shipyard.”

Vaelana nodded and turned back around to face the screen once more. “Governor Pradek still owes us a favour and retains control over the D’Monaus repair yards…we will have to pay them a visit after we are done with this job…while I am not pleased to hear of the delay between dropping one defense and raising another, I find it minimal acceptable for this encounter. It will simply have to do…hopefully none of the opposing commanders and weapons officers are quick enough to respond to the opportunity and threat presented to them.”

The Commander leaned forward and rested her chin on her clasped hands, her eyes closing for a moment as she prepared herself for the actions to come. She slowed her breathing steadied her pulse into a controlled and regular rhythm by whispering a few stanzas from an old Romulan poem.

“Alright.” She finally said, opening her eyes again to gaze upon her prey. “Target their mid flank as you see fit, aim to disable engines and weapons…our employer wants prisoners and cargo.” 

::7 Years later::

Vaelana found the ambient lighting of the observation bay to be too bright, the layout of the room too open and hard to defend…it was built for comfort and relaxation, all watchwords that as a soldier, screamed a trap or feint of some kind.

It wasn’t just her career experiences and training that spoke to her though…the words of her late mother were etched into her soul to this very day. “When you are meant to be most at ease, be the most wary…a trap is not a trap if it can be easily anticipated.”

That paranoid old Tal Shiar Colonel had not been the best of parents for a young girl by any measure, but the few times she had bothered to parent had definitely stuck with her surviving children, shaping them all in some distinctive way.

For Vaelana, this had been to drive her away from ever persuing a career in her Mother’s fields or the Tal Shiar in general, instead driving her right into the Star Naval Academy in the old Capital. The former Romulan Commander would also have liked to say that it had kept her from ending up in said positions as well, but today made that plainly untrue.

Her red-shouldered black uniform and the triple golden pips were testaments to how deep she had fallen into the depths of intrigue, espionage, and the chaos of interstellar politics.

No longer captain of a ship, wearing the uniform of a former enemy, and kept tabs on by Starfleet Intelligence…At least she was still called a Commander, even if it was technically a demotion from the heights of her career.

She glanced out of the corner of her eye and spotted a young Bolian lieutenant sitting at a bench by a tree and glancing at a blank PADD screen, while pretending not to monitor the Romulan officer.

“My minder for the day, I suppose.” She quietly mused to herself. “Ensign Barstow must have been given the day off, finally”.

The Romulan Commander returned her gaze to the majestic transparent bulkheads that gave everyone in the Lounge a gorgeous view of the nearby vessels that pulled in to their docks. She recognized a few from her old days in the Star Empire, going over the patrol reports of enemy vessels along the Federation Neutral Zone boarder…others seemed to be quite new, from more recent designs.

Vaelana found her eyes falling back onto one ship particular, a newer vessel with the design lines reminiscent of Starfleet’s main heavy cruisers from the past century and a half, though the individual elements and pieces of the vessel itself seemed far more modern.

“Fascinating.”

Imaru glared at the two humanoids that were detained in the cell block of the Promenade section of Starbase K-8. One was a portly Bolian man who was about middle age with a belly that protruded like a torpedo and biceps that looked like they could punch through bulkheads. His name was Tyko Jwern. He was here because of one too many bar fights. His most recent scuffle just happened to be with the sector’s weightlifting champion: a hulking mass of Klingon named Do’Rak. There was no doubt in Imaru’s mind that Jwern regretted his choice of words towards the Klingon. The Bolian was still out-cold from the blow he took to the jaw. Imaru shook her head in disgust.

The second detainee was a human woman identified as Yari Ploon. She had attempted to break into one of the closed stores in the shopping district of the station. The store in question was a metal-working establishment owned by a Tellarite family. Said establishment was known for acquiring rare minerals and metal for harvesting or melding into more valuable and functional forms of merchandise. Ploon was caught half-way out the door with a container full of an assortment of minerals; probably to resell on the black market for a profit. Ploon was resting and her back was to Imaru. The Andorian watched as Ploon’s back rose and fell as she slumbered. Theft was theft. She shook her head again, still disgusted.

Then she took a seat behind one of the brig control consoles and folded her limbs. She keyed up the security feed to each cell to keep a technical eye on their guests. Imaru then produced a mini-PaDD from her pocket and accessed the boarding status of her new assignment. The status was red 7.75 hours ago; and it was still red. She volunteered for delta shift brig duty when she first learned about her boarding status. K-8’s security team accepted her with open arms as they were short staffed. She imagined that once the resupply to the Starfleet vessel Aquarius was further along that she’d receive the green light to board. 

Starfleet vessel.

Ten years of Imperial Guard training and a ten year career as an Imperial Guard tactical officer; it made sense why these two words were an obstacle to accept. Not as much as once before, but her acclimation continues into the present.. To make matters even more complex, Aquarius was docked at a K-Class Federation space station. Imaru had never been to one before and she hoped she never returned to one again. It was absolutely “zid” as her people would say; over 150 years old. Starfleet couldn’t hold a position in space with this floating antique. The fact that such a class was still in operation bothered her. Tactically, the K-Class was a major disadvantage. She didn’t join Starfleet to handle equipment older than Imperial Guard vessels. Imaru’s antennae lashed about in a visual display of frustration as the same frustration boiled internally. Her vision slowly faded away as she entered a meditative state, attempting to steady her spiraling thoughts with memories of frigid sub-zero air.

[Jinn Clan Residence]

[Kal’Ten, Andoria – 2398]

The freezing Andorian air rolled freely in a misty haze on the surface above the city of Kal’Ten. Instants later the wind began to funnel with cyclone speeds and a feral roar to match. It was indeed a metaphor for how unpredictable the people of this planet could be.

Kal’Ten was an underground city and the gathering was taking place in the common room on the first floor of the Jinn Residence, a two story home. The walls were painted a crisp and relaxing light purple with several local artists’ paintings literally on the walls. Famous battles were depicted but more importantly, the family history over the years: the birth of the twins, their childhood, their rise through the Imperial Guard, a marriage and the passing of one. Currently, one of said local artists was finishing up the painting of Imaru. It was customary and therefore natural. The natural was also the loud conversation that was occurring between several pairs of antennae.

“I cannot believe she actually went through with this,” one of the voices grumbled.

“What did you expect? She’s always been the opportunist one,” another chimed in. 

“Opportunist is a compliment,” the third voice quipped. “More like selfish.”

The three Andorians were gathered around a small table, used for katheka, the Andorian equivalent to Terran coffee. Their antennae twitched about in a disgruntled manner as they discussed the topic at hand.

“You do know that I’m right here in the room.” 

Avathaimaru Uyaga sh’Jinn unfolded herself from the crouched position she was in while she watched the painter work wonders with a brush.

“And opportunist is the exact word you should use,” Imaru added. “The Imperial Guard chose me, not the other way around.”

“Imaru, how long have we been married?” asked Akeen, the chan of the family. 

She scoffed at the question as though the answer would matter. In Andorian culture, bondmates were chosen at a young age. Each was a different gender that was required to make a child. Akeen and Roleb were the chan and thaan and Neruu and Imaru were the zhen and shen.

“Eleven years last week,” Imaru submitted.

“So you would turn your back on your bondmates, ignore your marriage and your child for this… this adventure?”

“Akeen, you are mistaken. I would never-”

“Joining Starfleet is not going to bring Amaru back!”

There was an eerie silence that blanketed the room like a heavy snow in the wilderness. Due to the sensitivity that antennae allow, each one could hear the heartbeats of the others and Imaru’s was beating the fastest. Whilst she had taken ample time to come to terms with her twin sister’s death, it was still a very sensitive subject for her.

The painter peered over his shoulder to the quiet behind him and could see Imaru and Akeen standing square across from each other with the small table between them. Roleb and Neruu came to Imaru’s side in an attempt to sooth and calm her. But it was no use. Imaru was fast. She leaped forward, vaulted over the table, and wrapped her left hand around Akeen’s neck. She forced him against the wall and raised her right hand. Imaru only paused as Neruu and Roleb coaxed her down.

“Imaru, please!” Neruu begged.

Her heartbeats flooded her hearing like war drums. She wanted nothing more than to tear Akeen limb from limb for his insensitive comment. Luckily, Neruu’s plea slashed through the rage in Imaru’s heart. Reluctantly, she released Akeen and walked back to the table.

“You are correct, Akeen.” She took a drink of her katheka. “Joining Starfleet will not bring Amaru back. However, I am doing this for her, for my family and my people.”

“Please explain, Imaru,” Neruu asked politely. 

Imaru nodded and stepped towards her female bondmate.

“My sister and I had many discussions, some more productive than others. What I learned from her though and what I am realizing more as of late is that there is a better way to defend our world. There is a better way to protect our family. The Imperial Guard, whilst still very formidable in tactics and application, is limited by its technology, resources and operational capacity. If the Guard was on par with Starfleet then the assassination attempt on the President would never have happened. The Guard would have been able to weed out such intruders before they could get into Andorian space.” 

Imaru’s gaze went crystal for a moment, trying not to recall too many details of the assassination attempt.

“By joining Starfleet, you think the chances are higher to be preemptive with Andoria’s defense?” Roleb asked.

“Indirectly, yes,” Imaru replied. “Starfleet works differently than the Andorian government in the sense that there is vast difference in space to patrol and protect. But the mission is always to defend Federation planets and interests.”

“And Andoria is a founding member of the Federation,” Neruu added.

“Exactly. Amaru believed that this is the best way to protect our people. And I intend on doing exactly that. Many Andorians have joined Starfleet in the past. I will be one of many.”

Contemplation filled the air.

“Thank you for explaining that, Imaru,” Akeen finally spoke. “But I still do not support your decision. You are a very talented officer of the Guard. Why not stay and gain a command of your own? Or form a stronger internal defense force? I feel as though sending away one of our brightest is a buy-in to the Federation’s too-large agenda.”

“And what of the shelthreth?” Neruu added. “Surely, you would not leave us before we try again?”

The Andorian mating ceremony required the participation of all four bondmates. Without one, it will not work. They had been successful in birthing a child when they were 19. Now that they were all thirty,, the success rate of conceiving had plummeted exponentially. But that didn’t keep them from trying.

Imaru searched Roleb’s face as he was in agreement with what Imaru wanted to do to protect Andoria and the family. Roleb was always the cool-headed, diplomatic one. Her antennae curved towards him, pleading to help resolve this problem. 

Roleb’s antennae responded in kind and he knew exactly what she wanted from him. He considered his words carefully and stepped forward.

“To my knowledge, you have not yet been given an assignment. Therefore, to your point, Neruu, there is time to begin the shelthreth. And to yours, Akeen, you are a sailor. Imaru’s wishes are not too different than your own save for the distance factor.” Each Andorian exchanged a look with another. “This is a time for celebration. Let us take full advantage of the moment.” 

With those words, Neruu took Imaru and Akeen by the hands and led them into the sleeping chamber. The painter had finished and let himself out. Roleb smiled at the image that had been created: four andorians and the Starfleet insignia hovering overhead with the Andorian word: khool, which meant enigma. Roleb secured the room and followed the others into the sleeping chamber.

[Starbase K-8]

[Present] 

Imaru ended her reverie and her vision returned. She checked the status board again. It was finally green. Her antennae stretched for the ceiling in excitement. Personally, this was an opportunity that brought her closer to honoring and avenging her sister. Professionally, it would be the truest test of her abilities yet. She checked her wrist-mounted chrono for the time. Delta-shift was over. She keyed up all her research on the Excelsior II-class heavy cruiser on her mini PaDD and dashed for the brig exit. 

Aquarius awaited.

The boarding status was back to red. 

Imaru had traversed the archaic corridors of Starbase K-8 to finally arrive at the berth where the Aquarius was docked. She discovered several interesting sights along the way and she made a mental note to explore them before the ship left the station. Among said sights were the station’s gymnasium, where a wrestling tournament was to be held, a peaceful arboretum-like setup and a lounge type establishment where they served an Earth beverage called ‘root beer’. Her antennae seethed slowly at the crimson hue that engulfed the boarding status of the Aquarius. Perhaps the engineering team switched back to red status due to further duties or missed duties. 

Momentarily, the Andorian felt defeated. No, delayed. Defeat meant that she conceded. And she did not. She considered the boarding lighting for a very long while before swiftly spinning on her heel and taking off at a brisk pace back the way she had come. She recalled her steps to the proper turbolift to bring her back to the promenade area of K-8. Luckily for her, a car was already waiting. Imaru entered, keyed in her request and took hold of a handle shaped object inside the lift. Another callback to the Starfleet of yesteryear. 

Once the lift began, Imaru felt another callback wash over her. A very familiar sensation. 

[Kal’Ten, Andoria – 2398]

Imaru tightly held the lift control handle as her party’s ascent was almost complete. Dawn had come to the underground city of Kal’Ten in the form of sharp beams of pearl light that pierced through the thinnest parts of the city ceiling. It was a normal wake up signal for the residents of Kal’Ten. Imaru, Akeen, Roleb and Neruu were not there to witness it. They were traveling to the surface, clad in ivory form-fitting suits that covered their bodies from neck to wrist and ankle along with a cream tunic. Boots and no-tip gloves finished the surface dwelling attire. The lift came to its zenith and the party of Andorian’s filtered out and through the final access point to the freezing surface. This particular access point deposited the group at the foot of a mountain. Imaru led the file through the icy mountain side, Akeen and Neruu littered the middle and Roleb brought up the rear.

Their trek took several thousand paces more before Imaru called them to a halt and motioned towards a clearing. It was a small open field where a specific kind of grass would still grow due to its resistance to the arctic temperatures. The quartet spread out and took up equidistant positions from one another in a diamond formation. Roleb had the lead for this one, the diamond’s tip. He made a swift motion of his right hand and the group of four began perfectly unionized movements of blocks and kicks, sweeps and punches. To a bystander, it would appear that each one of them were in combat with an invisible opponent. The shadow dance ended with a double-fist punch and a battle-cry from each Andorian, enough to echo through the frozen terrain. 

They then stood feet shoulder width apart and the diamond rotated its tip to Imaru having the lead. It was then that she removed a 31 centimeter hilt from her belt. The aforementioned hilt was rectangular in design and when Imaru depressed the button on its surface, a 110 centimeter blade unfolded from the hilt’s edge. The blade clicked to completion and the other three Andorians followed suit with their own weapons: the modern version of a hrisal; Andorian katana.

Imaru began the weapon form known as I’Myk which involved vertical slashes, horizontal slices and angled parries and sweeps and stabs. It was an offensive form that displayed the sheer overwhelming aggression of an enraged Andorian warrior. The form ended with a spinning low swipe, meant to separate an opponent’s knees from their shins. Each Andorian maintained the crouched position and the blades of their weapons glistened in the morning illumination.

A small chime went off at Imaru’s wrist; her Starfleet issue chronometer. It was time for her departure. With a click of a button, her weapon collapsed to slumber once again within its hilt and now rested in Imaru’s palm. Her gaze turned skyward and she needed one hand to cover her vision from the pale sun’s rays. The runabout that would be taking her to her Starfleet foreign officer training was now in orbit. There was no way that she would be able to see it, but that didn’t stop her from trying. She could feel the presence of her spouses surrounding her from the rear. Imaru sighed and turned to face them.

Her eyes went to Akeen first. He was the one who disagreed with her leaving the most. He was always stubborn but she knew that he meant well. Even though he was much smaller than her, the signature frown that he wore on his face was enough to intimidate a Klingon. And she loved him for it. She stepped towards him and they embraced in a large hug, locking antennae.

Imaru then moved to Neruu. She also highly protested Imaru’s departure from Andoria. Neruu’s concern was bearing children. Without Imaru present, the family would not be able to conceive. Imaru knew the responsibility that she had as an Andorian shen to create a child; or children should they be so fortunate. However, if the hostile threats that existed in the galaxy were allowed to penetrate Andorian space, said child would have to live a life with the ramifications of said threats. Neruu knew that as well. Her long silver hair was braided from her antennae down to her waist and complimented her yellow eyes so well; absolutely stunning. Imaru took Neruu’s hands in hers and danced the tips of their antennae together. A blissful farewell. 

Last and certainly not least was Roleb. The hulking mass of an Andorian was two meters tall and built like a tank. Imaru tilted her head back to stare into his dark gray eyes. Roleb understood her exactly. He understood everything that she had been through, all of the sacrifices that she had made and was willing to make. Roleb wanted her to do this. She would miss him dearly for always being in her corner, always supporting her decisions and calling her out when she made stupid ones. Imaru did not have a favorite spouse but she believed that she would miss Roleb the most because of his constant guidance. They were all the same age but he seemed wise beyond his years. She reached up and placed her hands on the sides of his cheeks. He returned the gesture, caressing her much smaller face in his massive hands. They locked eyes for what felt like an eternity.

Eternity, in reality, had only been seconds.

Imaru then dropped her gaze and shouldered a large and long bag; the only one she would be taking with her. She pivoted to look upon her bondmates once more before she signaled the runabout that she was ready for transport. Akeen, Neruu and Roleb were picturesque in the Andorian sunrise and she watched them even when the cerulean hue of the transporter beam engulfed her. She gazed and gazed until they disappeared entirely from her vision.

Imaru stepped down from the transporter pad and ventured into the rear of the runabout to find her bunk and stow her bag.

She had wanted to say something to each of them so desperately. But she had to remind herself: Andorians didn’t believe in last words, only last actions.

[Starbase K-8 – Present]

Imaru turned her attention to the lift doors. They were and must have been for some time now. She released the lift handle and exited onto the promenade. As she navigated the vast expanse of the starbase’s entertainment, Imaru realized that the memory of her loved ones was still fresh in her mind. There were few things she enjoyed more than the company of her family. A redbat noodle bowl was one of them. She imagined the Andorian dish perfectly seasoned and ready to eat like how Neruu would prepare it. Imaru was literally knocked from her food daydream by a passerby of a very large frame. The Andorian glared mental daggers at the offender’s six until she made sense of some words that adorned said offender’s backpack. 

Starfleet Academy Wrestling.

Imaru’s glare was soon accompanied by a slight smile. Her choice of entertainment while she awaited access to Aquarius had just been selected. 

“Commander, we are coming up on the station.”

Daniel looked up from his book as he heard the announcement over the speakers. For the last eleven hours, he had been curled up in the aft section of the Type-11 shuttle on his way to meet his newest starship posting at Starbase K-8. He had hoped that his previous ship, the U.S.S. Avalon, would be able to drop him off at his new assignment, but they unfortunately received urgent orders at the last minute that made the trip impossible. Instead, Daniel parted ways with them and took a shuttle while they went off on their next mission. 

Tapping on his comm badge, he replied to the young ensign pilot, “Acknowledged.” He got up from the bench and stretched slightly, letting out a small groan. He never liked long shuttle voyages, spending hours upon hours in a stationary position with little to do to pass the time. Being so excited about his new promotion to executive officer, he immediately studied and consumed all data on his new ship and crew the minute he found out, leaving little to read on the voyage there. 

Daniel had always admired the old Excelsior-class’ design and history. The class had been such a huge success for Starfleet that it became one of the longest serving and most recognizable symbols of the Federation. With the recent update and refresh of the class culminating in the Excelsior II,  he was confident that the new redesign would remain in service even into the next century. And, being that it was one of his favorite designs in the fleet, it made him all the more eager to get aboard. 

He moved over to the table and placed the book among his other belongings he brought with him, then moved to join the young pilot that was bringing him to his next assignment. He could have of course piloted the shuttle himself on this journey as Daniel was more than qualified, however someone had to bring the Avalon’s shuttle back to the ship. One of his friends on board had initially requested to make the journey with him, but unfortunately was needed on the new mission they embarked on, so Daniel took the first flight control officer he could find instead. 

As he moved into his seat, the shuttle came out of warp revealing the station and the Aquarius orbiting. “Would you look at that, what a beautiful design.” Daniel said aloud softly. The pilot smiled slightly as they continued their approach to the station. “Sir, your orders are to still dock with the station?” Daniel nodded, there were several items he needed to inspect in his new role as chief tactical officer onboard the Aquarius. 

Though his role is executive officer first and foremost, being that it was an Excelsior class ship, he was also serving a dual role at the tactical console since there was no dedicated seating for the first officer on board. Serving a dual role was not something new for Starfleet, and not new for Daniel either. His previous posting was an Obena-class starship, and Obena-class ships, having taken much inspiration from the Excelsior-class, also had a similar set up to the new Excelsior II class. 

As the shuttle came within transporter range, the ensign pressed the control pads and opened a channel to the station,”Starbase K-8, this is shuttlecraft Sterling. Requesting permission to beam aboard the new executive officer for the U.S.S. Aquarius, transmitting transfer orders now.” Daniel stood, collecting his belongs as the station replied, “Shuttlecraft Sterling, we are receiving you. Permission granted, welcome to Starbase K-8.”

Daniel nodded to the pilot, “Thanks for the ride, Ensign. Safe journey home.” He shifted the bag strap slightly on his shoulder, “Energize.”

[JP done with Vice-Admiral Bennet]

“The communications have been established.” Said the young Antedan ops-technician. “You can step into the room now, Commander.”

Vaelana stood up from the waiting bench in the communications hub waiting room and made her way over to the front desk where the weasel-esq looking technician was. “I understand these systems are relatively new on this station…go over how it all works again?”

”Well, it’s the same as most holocomm systems you’d find in more modern ships…the basic principles of the more modern version dates back to…just before the Dominion War, I think?” The technician stated as if remembering a reference PADD. “The holobooth is connected by subspace 1-to-1 communications array to a holodeck system elsewhere…it’ll project your holo-image there, and the room the other system is in will appear in the booth here…along with anyone there, of course…“

”…allowing one to attend remote staff briefings with a more physical presence.” Vaelana added with a sigh. “What’s the encryption rating on such a system?”

“I…don’t know, exactly.” The Antedan said with a shrug. “That would be a question for the Security Chief…or maybe Strategic Operations. They would handle the encryption and decryption side of things…I’m sure the Admiral wouldn’t request the use of such a system though if it wasn’t secure.”

”…Of course.” The Romulan replied, studying the holobooth doors with a measure of apprehension and the lingering paranoia that would have been considered more then healthy back in her Empire days. “This booth right here?”

”Yes, Commander.” The technician nodded. “Booth Three.”

Vaelana straightened her uniform jacket and then took a step into the booth after the doors slid open to allow her passage.

She found herself in a small, somewhat claustrophobic black room with the yellow grid lines typical of certain older styles of Starfleet holodeck systems…definitely more advanced than what the old K-class outpost was used to, but somewhat dated for the standards of the present day.

“Computer, open the channel.” She ordered, and the computer chirped back in reply. 

“Channel open, program beginning.”

The black and yellow room faded away, and Vaelana found herself now standing in what appeared to be a much different room entirely.

Sitting behind his desk, Vice Admiral Zack Marshall-Bennet closed his holographic interface with a swipe of his hand and looked up at the holographic recreation of Commander Vaelana standing in front of him. “Commander Vaelana, it is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Likewise, I am sure, Admiral.” The Romulan replied with a polite, if somewhat curt, bow and a nod.

Remaining positive, Bennet looked at the Romulan woman and clarified why she had been called to speak to him. “I’ll get straight down to business, commander,” He started with. “I am hereby promoting you to the rank of captain and giving you command of the U-S-S Aquarius, effectively immediately.”

Vaelana couldn’t help but immediately raise her right eyebrow, an autonomic response that the Romulans had inherited from their distant Vulcan ancestors. “I will admit to…being somewhat surprised and apprehensive about this unexpected development.”

“The Aquarius needs a new commanding officer, and from what I can see from your record, you fit the bill,” Bennet clarified further, hoping his encouragement was useful.

The Romulan woman fell silent for a moment, her eyes glancing to the side of the room as she lost herself in analysis and calculation. A few seconds later, her gaze returned to meet the holoprojection of the Admiral’s. “…and the fact that the Aquarius is here, at dock, right next to the Neutral Zone, ready to receive my transfer orders…I suppose that would have nothing to do with my promotion? Forgive my hesitation on the matter, Admiral, but I suspect that I am sensing that there might be a political factor at play here. Am I wrong?”

The Admiral leaned forward. “You know, Captain…it’s a Starfleet tradition to thank your superiors when receiving a promotion, especially a command, not question their motives…”

Vaelana stood still in silence, her face stoic and unmoving.

“…but, unofficially mind you, you are correct.” Bennet finally continued. “The Aquarius’s mission will be one of mercy, delivering supplies and support to the independent refugee worlds stuck between the Free State and the Republic…and someone who understands the cultures and customs of the Romulan people is considered a necessity for commanding that mission and avoiding any diplomatic missteps…after the Tal Vashoth manipulations and our own responses to the Utopia Planitia attack, the Federation doesn’t have a lot of soft power to play with here.

“What we do have, is our own bonafide Romulan, and a former Warbird Commander at that. A more recognizable face for first impressions, and someone who has lived and breathed the culture since birth…and…there are few other options. We only just inducted our first Romulan Academy cadet last year…and he’s not exactly ready for command.”

“He’s also from a religious minority that has some…suspicion attached to it.” Vaelana added with a small sigh. “I understand the theory behind command’s decision…and the refugee worlds could use the relief…and if there are truly no others that Starfleet has in mind for this role…than I will accept.”

“Excellent!” Beckett said, slapping his hands together. “You can pick the extra pip up from the station quartermaster-“

“However…” The Romulan interrupted, not quite finished. “I would like it noted that I accept under protest, that I possess reservations and concerns about this posting.”

The Admiral frowned and crossed his arms.“…and what might those be?”

”One, when I was taken in by Starfleet Intelligence, I technically defected…if anyone we offer aid to realizes this, any benefit I may bring to the mission may suddenly become inverted into a crippling disadvantage.” She stated, raising a finger on her left hand with each point. “Two, I am not…comfortable…with the optics of this appointment: it may seem like I was only given command because I am Starfleet’s ‘Token Romulan’, and not on my actual experience or proficiency…and I recognize that there will probably officers under my command that may wonder about that as well…not an advantageous situation to be placed in.

“Third…this is not just diplomacy and humanitarian aid…it smarts of politics, and I have spent the majority of my career in both the Star Navy and the Fleet, avoiding ‘politics’ as much as possible.”

“…noted.” Bennet said with a frown. “For what it’s worth, I realize this position may not be ideal, but our analysts have looked over the intel and your records and believe you are the best option we have.”

Vaelana nodded slowly and grew quiet again, pausing to calculate out her own risks against possible rewards. “Very well then, with my protestations noted, I…graciously…accept.”

=/\= Starbase 874.  One Week Ago. =/\=

“So, you’re not convinced?”

The Admiral sat at his desk and seemed to reign in his annoyance at being questioned by a doctor, of all things.  “In as much as we believe we know who your attackers were,” he rose from his desk and rounded the obsidian table to stand beside Dutton’s chair, “Yes.  Starfleet is indeed convinced.  However, have you any idea what would happen if this actually got out to the fleet?”

Josh looked up as the old man sat on the corner of his desk.  “Yes, sir.  I do.”

Admiral James Bostwick reached up and rubbed his eyes.  He was tired, that much was evident to Josh as he observed him.  Bostwick was a tall man, graying at the temples of his jet black hair and a little more slim than the lieutenant who sat beside him.  This was the third attack.  This was the third secret he was now ordering Dutton to keep.  How many more, he wondered.  “I understand you’ve been assigned to the Aquarius, is that right?”

Dutton nodded.  “Chief Medical Officer.  Yes, sir.”

“Do I need to remind you of how sensitive a matter this is, Doctor Dutton?”

Josh shook his head.  He knew what this news would do to the quadrant if it were leaked.  The problem was going to be containing it.  What was left of the crew of the USS Eldridge, he could not speak for.  But, he could speak for himself.  “No, Admiral, you don’t.”

Bostwick smiled as he stood from the corner of his desk.  It reminded Josh of the look a hungry wolf had when it was about to attack.  It was terrifying.  

“Good,” Bostwick said as he stepped back and allowed Dutton to get to his feet.  He extended a hand to Dutton, who took it as he stood.  The Admiral held him there for a moment.  He eyes boring into the doctor’s.  “Not a word, Doctor.”

Josh nodded.  “Aye, sir.”

=/\= Now.  Aboard the USS Aquarius.  Main Sickbay. =/\=

It was an odd sight.  Medical beds lying their sides waiting to be wired into the ship’s computer systems; a total of two station technicians from Starbase K-8 and the ship’s Chief Medical Officer down in the ship’s interior systems, hoping they were getting the connections right.

~I wanted to be a Chief Medical Officer.  What the hell was I thinking?~

In truth, Dutton was in his element.  He preferred the hands on approach in everything he did.  It would have helped, of course, if he had known a little bit more about hooking bio-beds up.  Luckily, he had stumbled across the two technicians who were with him and had readily agreed to help him install the new med bay equipment.

“Sir?”  One of the techs shouted from the bed pit directly across from his position.

“Yeah?”  Dutton planted his feet and stood up out of the hole.  He had grease smeared across his forehead and he was sweating profusely.  His hair hung in front of his face for a moment before he slicked it back with the hand that was not holding an electronic spanner.  “What is it, Duvall?”

“I think we’re ready to go on this one,” the freckled redhead called from his own position in the bio-bed’s pit.

“Fire it up, then,”  Dutton called as he pulled himself out of the pit and joined the workman.

Duvall smiled as he activated the new bio-bed and saw the wall monitor come to life as it scanned both he and Dutton.  It displayed both men’s vitals on a split screen, including functions and a graphic display of their bodies.

Josh waved his hand around in front of himself.  The computer followed.

“Works for me.”  Dutton stepped to the side and lifted the bed into the upright position and then slid it gingerly into the open access bay where it was meant to stand.  It slid down almost silently, a faint click as the grapple underneath slid into the receptacles and secured the bed for use.  “That’s one down,” Josh said with a sigh as Duvall gave him a chuckle.

Now…the rest awaited.

=/\=

Joshua Dutton

Chief Medical Officer

USS Aquarius

Lt. Elizabeth Kyle sat alone in the officer’s lounge.  It was a quiet night.   Most of the crew were either in bed or on the station enjoying some time away from the ship.  For Elizabeth she had no desire to visit the station, and for some strange and unexplained reason she couldn’t sleep.  So here she was.  Sitting in a bar drinking alone and generally being anti-social.

She sighed staring out the window.  She loved this ship.  It was her first posting as cheif engineer,  and she felt ownership over it.  Like it was her own.  She certainly had seen places that no one else on the crew has seen.

Elizabeth noted the entrance of a familiar face over the top of her glass.  She didn’t know the Klingon woman very well,  but probably better than anyone else on the ship.  Not, that that was saying much, but she hoped there was at least a mutual respect.  Elizabeth definitely respected Q’orvha, and as such resisted her human urge to wave the strategic operations officer over.  If she wanted to visit she would do so on her own accord.

Which, as it turns out, on this occasion, she did. The pale Klingon moved swiftly across the lounge with her steps leaving little sound to register, almost as if she were a ghost, though she broke her silence with an uncharacteristicly loud seething angry sigh as she dropped herself down into the chair across from Elizabeth, tossing the PADD she held onto the table.

”I sincerely hope your day is going better than mine, Leuitenant” Q’orvha growled sourly. “I have need of someone to vent and commiserate with, as my usual outlet for such things went away when the Holodecks got turned off for the EPS realignments on Deck 12.”

“Yeah… sorry about that.   If I didn’t assign someone to it a power surge could blow out all the emitters, and then it would be weeks before I can get them working again.”

”…as acting Captain and Stragetic Operations Officer, I was just cleared via communique on whom will soon be arriving to take over as Commanding Officer of this vessel.” The Klingon explained, only to pause for a moment and then lean forward to speak with more quiet and cautious care. “…and it’s a damn barrel of cold dead pressurized gagH that Command is serving us, just waiting to rot and turn in an explosively hyperthermic reaction…right…in…our…faces.”

Elizabeth blinked at that. Klingons were known for their passion.  Klingons are such drama queens, but this is odd though.   Q’orvha was normally more level headed than this, she thought. “That’s quite the description,” she said out loud. Taking a sip of her synthehol she set her glass down and considered her next words. After a moment she spoke, “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on, and dumb it down for this simple cowgirl.”

“As you may have surmised from all the ordered repairs and resupplies…” Q’orvha continued, her voice a terse whisper. “…we are about to head into the Romulan refugee territories on a mission of mercy…one could argue this is misguided, especially given the sins of broken promises of Starfleet past…so, Command has put in place what they seem to think will a solution that will…ease…tensions we’ll encounter with the locals.”

“Well, not the most glamorous of assignments,  but it’s a good deed,” Elizabeth replied.  Klingons and Romulans never got along, but she had a feeling that there was more to this.

“Romulans are untrustworthy lot by nature, and that goes both ways…one should be extra wary around them, and their macro-culture tends to produce a heavily cautious and paranoid lot…which, fair enough I say…there is healthy respect to be found in that outlook.” The klingon slid the PADD forward, across the table towards Elizabeth, and activated the display. “So, who better to command such a mission than a fellow Romulan?”

The PADD brought up a Starfleet Personnel file, that started with a profile picture of a middle-aged Romulan woman with a mess of raven hair and a prominent duelling scar across her cheek. In this instance, she wore an older style command-red Starfleet uniform, with the triple pips of a Commander displayed on her collar…though the rank designation below appeared to have been updated to “CAPTAIN”. Alongside the picture was the name: VAELANA i-TERRHA t’KAEYN.

Most of the data that followed however, was blacked out with Starfleet Intelligence censoring.

“Now, this is interesting. Certainly not the call I would have made, and I can see what has set you off.” Unsure of what else to say she frowned.  “I don’t know.”

Q’orvha picked the PADD back up and scrolled down to the service record, which included several public records from the old Romulan Star Empire, as well as some recent Starfleet assignments…but again, there was a substantial amount of censor warnings and even a few decade long gaps. “Do not get me wrong, having a Romulan face for the mission…there is some sense to that…and the Federation’s greatest diplomatic strengths have always laid in the realms of ‘soft power’…By the dark Gates of Gre’thor, missions of mercy and aid were practically what led to the Klingon and Federation alliance for years after both the Praxis and Khitomer disasters.”

The Klingon started to let out an exasperated sigh that shifted into a low quiet growl as it was let out. “This particular Romulan however…Captain Vaelana definitely would have pertinent skills and knowledge for this area and this task…especially once we move beyond the old Neutral Zone and into the gutted husk of the late Star Empire…”

“She would have the necessary knowledge of the area,” she agreed thoughtfully.

“The problem…” Q’orvha explained, once again placing the PADD down. “…is that Vaelana has a reputation in certain circles…and most definitely other baggage besides…and officially, she got her Starfleet posting after defecting from the Imperial Star Navy and spending the post Hobus years as a privateer…how do you expect the Romulans we encounter to react when they find out how the face of our little errand ended up with a red Star Fleet Uniform?”

“That’s the problem isn’t?  We could use a ‘guide’ to act as a liason between the people and relay to us the politics and players but… this Vaelana is a problem.  She hasn’t been in this middle of this mess. She’s been in the Federation so, she’s just as clueless as the rest of us, and then to add a nice little cherry on top she’s a traitor to her people. I wouldn’t respect or trust her if I were one of the Romulans in the area, and I expect you feel the same.  It would be like Duras marching into the Empire commanding a Federation ship trying to ‘just help’. And those redacted parts in her dossier is… uncomfortable.  Granted my cousin Ethan’s looks like that while he was in Starfleet Intelligence.  A result of some ‘damned distasteful work’. His words, not mine.  Vaelana is an unknown quantity. It changed Ethan and Trinity for the worst, but…” She cut herself off realizing she was rambling. “Well, I don’t know if I can trust her either. Spooks are a different breed.”

”Yes…we are.” Q’orvha replied, allowing herself a small quiet chuckle, a brief reprieve from the anxious doom and gloom of the subject matter. “The blacked out parts are actually less of a problem for Romulans…it is said that anyone who has served in the Galae Command- The Romulan Star Navy…for more then a single tour, inevitably acquires some in their dossier…no, the real issue is the reason why there is so much proverbial black ink.”

Q’orvha folded her arms and leaned back in her chair, pausing to choose her next words carefully. When she finally spoke again, her voice had returned to a ghostly hissing whisper.

”Among the, as you say, Spooks, there are a few names that have gotten…notoriety…and it’s never a good sign when that happens within an industry that deals in clandestine secrets and subterfuge.” The Klingon scrolled back up to the top of the displayed dossier and then tapped on the Romulan’s last name. “There is…or was…a Tal Shiar colonel who had a hushed infamy and reputation inside of even the halls of both Starfleet and Imperial Intelligence…not to mention the public persona she held within the Star Empire itself. Storied tales of fringe experimentation, sector wide machinations, destablization of entire planetary systems, and assassinations that would cause even me to blush.

“That Colonel’s name is…D’Kaeyn. The matriarch of Clan Kaeyn…and Vaelana’s mother.”

“I never put much store in the sins of the father troupe, but that is a bit of a… concern.”

”Oh, believe me, I do not place too much stock in the whole concept of ‘sins of the father, passed down unto the son’ that the Empire espouses…“ Q’orvha replied. “…even if it has proven itself as a frustrating accurate memetic over the years…Duras…and Vaelana herself appears to have spent most of her career actively avoiding the usual political machinations that the Tal Shiar swim in…the parts of her career I could uncover, that is…but, the reputation of Clan Kaeyn will precede her in almost any interaction we have once we get into that dead husk of an empire.”

“So…. What should we do?  I am not ready to join in a mutiny.  Perhaps we should give her a chance before we make up our minds.”

”I would never suggest a mutiny…” Q’orvha replied, silently contemplating that a clean assassination and transfer of command down the ship’s stated hierarchy was often more efficient in the long run…at least, on a Klingon ship… ”…and giving her chance seems to be the only option left in lieu of that. So I agree, for the most part…we bide our time, we watch, and we keep what we know now in mind…with any luck, we can catch a disaster before it happens.”

Elizabeth considered her friend for a moment.  She was fairly certain the Klingon was overreacting, but she certainly had a point, and there was cause for concern.   “One thing is certain: this is going to be an interesting tour of duty.”

Daniel looked around the transporter room as it slowly became visible during the transporter re-materialization process. Arriving in one piece after a short delay, he nodded to the transporter chief as he was welcomed to the station. Daniel stepped off the pad, repositioning the shoulder strap of his belongings as he walked, and exited the room. He had never been to a K-class station before in his career, but had plenty of time to memorize where he needed to go to oversee the efforts for the Aquarius. While the ship was docked, they were conducting repairs and resupply operations before getting underway, and there were some tactical systems in particular that he wanted to inspect before they were installed on board, mostly being replacement phaser coils and additional torpedo casings. 

Taking a few steps out in the corridor, Daniel paused and decided to check in with the ship to let them know he had arrived and was preparing to oversee the tactical system updates before transporting to the ship. He tapped his comm badge and said, “Lieutenant Commander McKnight to U.S.S. Aquarius, requesting communication with the commanding officer.” 

The computer chirped in response and then paused for a few seconds as it made the proper connectio…..eventually, a stern voice accented with a subtle growl came over the comm. “This Lieutenant Commander Q’orvha, current Acting Command Officer of the Aquarius. To what do I own the honour of this interruption?”

Daniel grinned. Before coming to the Aquarius, he had time on the long shuttle ride to Starbase K-8 to scan all of the personnel logs of the crew, and recalled reading up on Lieutenant Commander Q’orvha. He had no problem admitting that he was excited to serve with a Klingon, developing a fondness for their culture and cuisine over the years. During his time with Starfleet Intelligence, he had spent many years in both Klingon and Romulan territory, and because of this, he knew both species very well, even learning both languages fluently over the years. 

“Reporting in, Captain.” He knew she wasn’t ranked a captain, however in Starfleet tradition whoever was in command of a vessel, regardless of their rank, was addressed as such. He continued, “I’ve been assigned as the U.S.S. Aquarius’ new executive officer and chief tactical officer, my transfer orders should have been transmitted moments ago. I am currently on board the station, I was going to inspect some of the systems before coming on board, with your permission.” 

”Hhrrrr…” A rolling growl could be heard from the commbadge, before recognizable speech could be heard again. “…I’ll be right down…give you the full tour. Don’t need you tripping over of the conduits before our technicians get them back behind the bulkheads…stay right there.”

“Acknowledged.” Daniel tapped his comm badge, closing the channel. He took his belongings and placed them on the ground next to him while he waited for Q’orvha. 

After a few minutes, a pale Klingon woman wearing a cowled Klingon robe over a red Starfleet uniform walked around a nearby corridor, her footsteps falling with eerie silence upon the deckplating. 

“Greetings Commander,” she said, her voice a loud whisper, as she approached the new First Officer. “I am Lieutenant Commander Q’orvha…Chief Intelligence and Strategic Operations Officer….and prior to your arrival, the highest ranking officer onboard.”

Daniel nodded as he listened to his officer report the ship’s current status. One thing that he did learn from all his years knowing her species: interrupting a Klingon could sometimes prove to be a deadly mistake. 

”Your reign will be short lived. I have confirmed that Captain Vaelana is on Station K-8 and will soon be arriving to assume command of this vessel proper.” The Klingon replied before gesturing down the hall. “What part of the Aquarius would you like to review first?”

He grinned again, then replied, “Thank you Commander, I’m sure my reign will come again in the future.” Still smiling, he continued, “While we were here I was going to review the tactical systems, however which departments are currently undergoing the heaviest repairs or refit? Would be prudent to start in those areas.”

”Hard to quantify…” Q’orvha answered, adjusting the cowl of her hood to block the light fixtures from her gaze as she turned to begin walking down the hull. “…For ship not in drydock, the Aquarius’s modifications and tune-ups are extensive at the moment…our transition from Project Resolute‘s testbed into a more stock and stable Excelsior-II class cruiser means a work over of many systems…the heaviest work is probably being done in the shuttle and cargobays however, where we are loading up our stores with relief supplies bound for the old Neutral Zone and space beyond.”

Daniel picked up his belongings, again forever fidgeting with the shoulder strap, and began down the corridor. He turned to the commander and said, “What can you tell me about our Captain? Have you met her or had a chance to speak with her?” He turned his head and looked down the hall, trying to remember where to go, “I must confess, I did some light reading while en route to the station, looking over everyone’s personnel records-” He paused a bit, looking down another corridor, trying to determine if that was the right way to go, “The Captain’s, from what I could see of it anyway, seemed most… interesting.” 

“…tell me, how much could you actually read of that file?” Q’orvha inquired as she led them down the left side of a T-junction, her voice tinged with suspicion.

Daniel had a small smile form in the corner of his mouth before replying, “A great deal, though I would be lying if I said I read all of it. I caught all of the good parts.” He continued with her down the hall, allowing her to lead the way since, in truth, he had no idea where he was. He tried to memorize the station layout, but after catching up on all the personnel records, he found he didn’t retain as much of it as he would’ve liked. “I prefer to make my own judgements of character, in my experience personnel records don’t always give you the complete picture.”

”A respectable position.” Q’orvha noted. “If you managed to read the most interesting parts, than your access clearance must be rather higher than normal for your rank…tell me, Commander, what did you do prior to this assignment?”

“Well, Commander,” Daniel started as he continued observing the station around him, “my most previous assignment was the U.S.S. Avalon, but before that I mostly worked with Starfleet Intelligen–”

Q’orvha stopped suddenly and spun around sharply on her heals, her robes briefly lifting above her knees by the centrifugal force. 

“…Another Hu’tegh ’Spook!’” She hissed behind bared fang-like jagged teeth, so strongly that the universal translator had trouble keeping up with the string of invective Klingon profanities that flooded out into the corridor. ”I suppose with two ghuy’cha assets amongst the senior officers, those yIntagh jay’ back at Command would send us a bloody Minder to keep more direct tabs on us…”

Daniel said nothing, allowing the Klingon to vent her frustrations. He had much experience with her people and knew from experience that it was sometimes best to allow them to vent their frustrations before completely shutting them down. Though the same can be said that most of the time you should shut it down hard before it can grow into something more, but Daniel could sense something different about Q’orvha and her behavior. He decided to stay quiet and let her speak her piece. 

The Klingon seemed to calm down and she readjusted her cowl to once again block the station’s harsh lighting from reaching most of her face. “Despite my outburst of profanity, I do not begrudge you or your position, Commander…even if your position is low-key, a direct professional insult to my existing assignment as the Intelligence Liaison on the Aquarius. It’s a logical move, even if that was not the primary reason for your deployment here. 

“Our Captain is a Romulan turncoat…I am a former Daughter of Gre’thor who became an intelligence operative in exchange for amnesty for my past acts of piracy…it’s a miracle…or a convoluted conspiracy…that we’re both allowed to even don this uniform, much less that we are both assigned to the same vessel…so, even if it is naught but a coincidence that our new First Officer is also a fellow ‘Spook’, I can’t imagine any of our superiors back at Headquarters were unhappy to place their stamp of approval on your transfer orders…and from what I recall of my past run-ins with Commander Vaelana, she should be at least sharp enough to come to the same realizations that I have.”

Q’orvha turned back around to continue walking down the hall, turning around a corner to come face to face with an open airlock door that lead to a ’gangplank” personnel transfer tether. The stark contrast between the simplistic, sharply angled, and barren older architecture of the K-class station, juxtaposed against the more modern, complex, busy, and curved interiors of the Aquarius, was quite noticeable and catching to the eye.

”Just be aware of that when she finally arrives…you might be in for a rough greeting…doubly so if you attempt to conceal those factors from her” She added as she crossed the threshold between the Station and the Starship’s interlocked halves of the docking tether.

Daniel nodded slightly as he listened to the officer share her concerns, following her through the threshold into the Aquarius. “I understand your feelings on this situation, Commander.” He paused for a few steps, then went on, “If I’m being honest, I had similar feelings when I reviewed the crew manifest for this assignment. My years of experience in the field tell me that there is no such thing as a coincidence, and I do somewhat feel as though my posting here may have been a quiet attempt by command to watch over certain officers on this ship.” 

Daniel stopped short of revealing his experience with and his postings in both Klingon and Romulan territories, deciding not to give everything away all at once. He also figured it was a good way to test how much the intelligence officer would be able to find out about him and what kind of relationships she had to access such information that has been classified. He didn’t enjoy feeling as though he had to test her, or the captain, but Daniel was the type of person to sit back and not prepare for every contingency. If this posting was not a mere coincidence, he wanted to be ready for anything. 

Continuing down the corridor with Q’orvha, Daniel smiled, acknowledging and introducing himself to several officers along the way before finally saying, “All I can tell you, though you may not believe it, is I have not been sent here by Starfleet Intelligence.” He chuckled softly, his eyebrows raising slightly as he went on, “In fact, I was the one that applied for this post when it became available. Does Starfleet see that as a happy accident? Perhaps, maybe that’s why they were eager to get me here even though I am not yet a full commander. But regardless of the how, I am here now, and I’m hoping to make the most of it. I’m very much looking forward to serving with you, Commander.”

The pair made it to the end of the gangway and Q’orvha tapped a nearby access panel to open the Aquarius’s Outer Airlock doors. “Ech…you will probably come to regret those sentiments, Commander McKnight…but for now, since you are also our Tactical Chief, how about we start in cargo bay 3? Our supply of quantum torpedoes are currently being restocked and held for inspection in there…we can then follow them to the forward torpedo bays for loading and make our way up through the ship from there?”

Lt. Dr. Rena Campbell was the newly-assigned counsellor on the USS Aquarius. Which was weird because she WAS an Aquarius. 

Must be fate. 

Not that Rena believed much in fate, but she certainly didn’t have other ideas. Anyway, it was time for the usual all-staff psych evals, as part of their fitness-for-duty regime. 

Her first patient would be the Captain. Oh. 

She set about readying her office-plumped the pillows on the settee she had placed against the back wall. Someday, she’d figure out how to get permission to paint it. Maybe a nice, healing dove grey or maybe seagrass green. Something calming. 

For now, her abstract art photos and cute cats she’d downloaded and printed would have to do. She smoothed a fresh sheet of paper out on her desk-for a note later, after the session, in case there was something to note. She preferred talk therapy, but unlike her mentors, she embraced more modern technology, like, you know, recording devices and holograms. She wouldn’t use one today-at her first sessions with a new patient, she found them cumbersome and maybe a little invasive. 

She wanted to project an air of calm trust. 

She pushed her glasses back up her nose-she had been reading the woman’s medical file-and then placed them carefully in the drawer. She only needed them to read or do other close up work. 

Finally, she stood, and smoothed the uniform she wore, and smiled. Opening the door, she peeked out, black nose and eyes visible before the rest of her body was. 

“Captain? I am ready for you, ma’am.” She stood at attention; she might be the “boss” in this office, but the Captain still outranked her, and she was new here. “Come in, sit down.” 

Rena opened the door fully, to let the other woman enter. The higher-ups often were a…interesting bunch to shrink. A mix of trauma and walls they’d put up-a lot to unpack. She was confident, though. “How are you today?”

Captain Vaelana strode into the room and went directly to sit across from the Counselor’s desk, without a word or hesitation. Her face was cold and devoid of emotion, a well practiced mask that if it were not for the prounced ridgelines on her forehead, could have made someone mistake the Romulan for her distant logical Vulcan cousins instead. 

”I am busy trying to integrate myself into my new command, Lieutenant.” Vaelana finally answered, somewhat tersely. “So if you are able to keep this required initial exam to a quick and efficient schedule, that would be most appreciated.”

Rena simply nodded. 

“Got it, ma’am. Please, sit down.” She waited for the woman to do so. “I guess we’ll just start without the niceties. As you know, Starfleet requires at least one evaluation per year. I read your file and think you’re fit for duty. What is your biggest reason to be here today, though? Anything besides that? A new mission can sometimes be daunting.”

“That depends entirely on what you mean by ‘here today’.” The Romulan replied, crossing her arms and leaning back in the chair. “In the Federation? Because my home was destroyed in a celestial apocalyptic disaster. In Starfleet? Because I betrayed some of my oaths to the dead husk of my former government in return for amnesty. On this ship?”

Vaelana let out a short sigh and straightened back up in her chair. “I am on this ship because Command is what I do best…and our superiors believe that this vessels current mission would benefit not just from my experience and knowledge, but also by the mere fact that I am the ‘token Romulan Commander’ that they have had in their back pocket for the past four standard solar cycles.”

“I meant to my office, but that is OK.” She’d forgotten the Romulan’s were bad with contextual clues and needed exact language. “All of that is helpful information.” She sipped some water, and then continued. “How does that make you feel, though? That you’re the, quote, ”token Romulan commander? Is that something you value? Is it something you hate?” Rena prodded, gently. 

“Hate is a strong word, and not one I would use so lightly…” The Captain replied. “…the concept makes sense in theory, and there are precious few other options for the role…Starfleet only just recently admitted it’s first Romulan Cadet to the Academy…however…it’s all optics…flash..politics…and I…dislike…the feeling that I my return to con and of a starship, may have come down to mere politics…an institution I have spent more than your human life time, avoiding like the Rigellian Blood Fever.”

Rena considered. She understood; half of her was Betazed, a people rife with political conflict and war, though not from within. “One of my mentors at the Academy was the first Vulcan counselor in the Fleet. He expressed similar. If I may be frank…I was born on a Starship, and I’ll likely die on one. It’s in my blood, and both of my parent’s races have been Federation members for at least a few decades-the Terrans, of course, much longer. I try to keep my own biases at the forefront when offering help, but…I think it’s important to note that the Federation is at least TRYING, right? Tiny steps forward are still forward steps. Personally, I think it’s stupid that your people weren’t admitted sooner-we have damned Cardassians there!-but of course, I don’t make those calls.” She was just a random lieutenant and while her father had been Starfleet before her, he was enlisted and probably faceless. “I think that’s worth something, don’t you?” She had her own issues with the fact that the Fleet had admitted Cardassians when they had attempted to annihilate her father’s people, but here they were. “I can help you to channel your-justified-anger to being a fantastic leader. Just tell me how to help you. If you want it.” Rena returned to her serene face again, sipping some tea while her words hung in the air, waiting for the other woman to speak. If Vaelana wasn’t game, that was fine. If she were, Rena would work hard to help.  

Vaelana narrowed her gaze at the young counselor…a half-betazed…and by all evidence, one who had just said the exact opposite of what Vaelana had needed to hear. The Romulan considered that either the counselor hadn’t utilized or didn’t possess, the betazed empathic or telepathic abilities…or Vaelana had just raised her own psionic defenses the moment she had entered the room without realizing it, a reflex born from years of Tal‘Shiar induced paranoia.

After a moment, she realized that there was also the chance that the counselor hadn’t simply been cleared yet to read her full dossier, uncensored…her own view on counselors was apparently still firmly in a Romulan mindset, where those with a counselor’s skill set were most likely Tal‘Shiar interrogators or Priests from religious minority sects, like the Qowat Milat.

”I will…consider it.” She said, finally, deciding to err on the side of humouring the counselor, instead of correcting her aggressively. “Though, I would like to think that I was already a decent commander in the field from my years of service commanding Reman assualt teams and issuing orders from the bridge of a warbird, before finding refuge for my crew and myself on this side of the Neutral Zone.”

Vaelana let out a small chuckle as a thought occurred to her. “Your mentor…was a Vulcan counselor? Really?”

”Back in the Galae Command…the Romulan Star Navy…I was sometimes called a ‘Surakhan.’…a Vulcan, a follower of Surak…due to my emotional distance and demeanor…” The Romulan captain recounted. “Keeping our emotions close to our chest is a enough trait in the military…but physiologically, we are still by and large a passionate people, with strong emotions that we are meant to use to propel us towards our goals.

“Like you, I am also shipborn…and it’s not just poetics that ascribe those who are shipborn in the late Star Empire, to descriptions of ‘cold as the blackness between the stars” Vaelana paused and let out a small sigh. “…There were few born under such circumstances in the past, even with the size of our fully integrated navy…prompt reporting and maternity leave to have the child born planetside was the norm…but my mother, on the other hand, did not have the luxury of doing so…and so, I grew up on various imperial warbids and stations for much of my youth. You’re surrounded by such discipline and structure, it permeates one’s young mind.” 

As well as Tal Shiar mental conditioning…thank you, Mother. Vaelana silently added before speaking once again. “It also leads one to play things close to the chest, chiefly, emotional responses.

Rena nodded. “He is. Still in the Fleet, though he strictly teaches and mentors now. He’s the one who encouraged me to take this assignment; said I would learn to expand my skills if I am working with other races and officers besides midshipmen and cadets, and Terrans. Terrans are easier-they haven’t evolved past their time when they were defeated. They’re still a young race.” 

She paused. Another sip, thinking carefully. “I’d agree that the Romulans I’ve met and worked with are generally personable. While you have some that…believe in the dissent, most of you want peace. Perhaps an identity of your own?” She posed, carefully. She didn’t want to poke the bear further than was necessary. “I am sure that keeping your emotions close is useful in war, but…how does it affect your personal relationships?”

”As a species and culture, we did have a solid grasp on who we were and what that meant for our place in the galaxy at large…” The Romulan stated, almost wistfully. “…unfortunately, that was often tied to our Empire itself…and with that sundered, so to does the identity shatter…and those who try to cling to it, often end up as roaming privateers or warlords with ambitions longer then their actual reach…I once fell in to that first category…and often encountered the second in my post-Naval odyssey.”

Vaelana took an audible breath in and then slowly exhaled out, as her memories flashed by rapidly in her mind, playing back the moments of conflict and cynicism that had defined most of the past two decades of her almost century of life. 

“As for my personal relationships…what personal relationships? I have been mostly sequestered away in a Starfleet Intelligence orbital office…and before that, I had to practice distance to maintain decorum and discipline among my crew on the Warbird Namyr…I may wear this uniform now, but I am aware that it, as well as my prescence, is an anomaly…I do not anticipate many, if any at all, opportunities to expand my social circle during this deploymen…nor do I find myself in the market for such expenditures of time and energy.”

Rena nodded. “I understand a bit about your loss of identity; my mother mentioned as much, as well, when Beta fell to the Dominion.” So many places had been destroyed by intergalactic wars, so many people marooned without a life jacket of sorts in the form of identity. “I hope the Fleet can help you to define yourself, even if it’s not a perfect iteration of that.” She paused for a moment to sip some tea, and let the woman take in her words. “I meant more like boss/employee, but let’s explore that a little more….why? Why DON’T you extend yourself? Surely, there’s any number of eligible men-or women, I don’t judge-in the Fleet who have caught your eye. Is it…fear?” She asked. She really had no idea, just a stab in the dark. 

Vaelana felt herself slip slightly in the chair, her unease becoming more apparent. “How about I just stick to matters of doing my job and commanding this vessel and completing this mission first, before I look to…as you put it, ’extend’ myself. I was put here to guide this ship and crew into once closed off territory for them, not to fraternize.”

The Romulan sat up from the patient’s chair with an abrupt swiftness and adjusted the black and red jacket of her uniform before looking back over to Rena. “I think that will do for the initial on-boarding and psychological evaluation report for now, don’t you think so too, Counselor?” She said, her voice sharply more stern and frost-laden than just before.

And there it was-she’d pushed too far. Rena simply nodded. “Of course, ma’am. Let me help you out.” She mused to herself as she stood to escort the CO out of her office. “Shall I clear some time for you next week? Say, Thursday, same time?” She let her words hang in the air as Vealana gave her a LOOK and headed out. 

The tour had been mostly uneventful so far, except for a small tense moment in a forward torpedo bay when an anti-grav lift momentarily failed and nearly dropped a Quantum Torpedo directly onto the deck-plating. The rest however, had gone as smooth as possible.

This had allowed for Q’orvha to reach the current stop on the tour, the Main Bridge, in record time…she had rarely been this fast when escorting a new comer on board in the past. The black and red uniformed pair now stood on the bridge’s main level, between the Captain’s Chair and the Master Situation Table behind it, as technicians and engineers worked tirelessly at various stations around the bridge, making sure all was functioning well and fixing what wasn’t.

The Klingon gestured to the table at the back of the vessel and the chair that sat at the starboard side of it. “This is where you will usually find me when I am not commanding the Night Shift.” She stated, as she walked over and activated the table’s horizontal display, causing its sleek glassy black surface to erupt in the colours, codes, and texts of a full LCARS user interface. The centre of the table itself, became a display of the ventral Master Systems layout, showing the long body of the Aquarius as viewed from the top, and then cross-sectioned to show the various power disturbution and generation networks that across the vessel.

Q’orvha then took notice of a new function that had shown up next to this display and when she pressed it, a semi-translucent cross-section of the Aquarius in profile, deck by deck, materialized and hovered above the table, directly over the previous ventral cross-section. ”…and it appears that we are now upgraded with the same holographic display and console capabilities of the more newer vessel designs in the fleet. Excellent.”

Daniel watched in awe as the console came to life and displayed the holographic image hovering over the table, he couldn’t help but be impressed. “I’ve heard of this… my last ship was scheduled to receive this technology upon our next layover at a starbase. Remarkable.” He continued to study it closely as he noticed in his peripherals Q’orvha beginning to move away. 

The Klingon turned around and walked towards the Captain’s chair at the center of the room and then past it, stepping down a level into the central pit and placing a hand on the integrated console/chair that was positioned to the right and was mirrored by another such chair and console combination on the left half of the pit. 

”I know on most Starfleet vessels, this might considered the Helmsman’s position…however here, the Helm is actually that long bunker of consoles at the front.“ She answered, gesturing to the triangular station that sat on the bottom level of the pit and had only a walkway and the main viewer at the fore of the bridge, in front of it. Then, moving to the side and rotating the seat on the right console around to face the other Lieutenant Commander, she continued: “This, is the Tactical Control station, with Operations Management opposite of it …I believe however, this is your spot when you’re not running a shift yourself, yes?”

Daniel nodded, “Yes, I’ll be manning the tactical station when the captain is on the bridge. The chief of security will oversee most of the department, including the tactical oversight, personnel, and maintenance, I’ll mostly just be manning the station during bridge shifts. My primary role will be executive officer, there is many responsibilities to see to in that regard, especially on a ship this large.” He knew that it was common on several classes of Starfleet vessels that the executive officer perform a role instead of having a seat next to the captain. In fact, he often preferred it this way since he was the type of person that liked to keep his hands busy. 

“A fine ship, I’ve always admired the Excelsior class vessels. To have the opportunity to serve on board one as executive officer is a great honor and personal accomplishment.” He continued looking around the room until his gaze paused on the captain’s chair. “Hoping someday that seat will be mine, maybe not on this vessel, but hopefully one just like it.” 

Daniel turned towards Q’orvha who was still standing near the tactical console and said, “When can we expect the captain? I’d like to be able to greet her as she comes aboard.”

”Unknown.” Q’orvha replied.  “From the reports and orders I have processed recently, I would assume sometime soon. Several encrypted command-level transmissions have gone through K-8’s subspace relays of late…and a Romulan woman in a Starfleet uniform has been reported to be on K-8 itself.”

In truth, Q’orvha had not just been passively monitoring communiques and gossip…as soon as she had seen the transfer orders from Starfleet Command and whom exactly was about to take over the Aquarius, she had been actively dropping macro-surveillance programs and placing tripwire notifications throughout every system she had been able to gain access to. Captain Vaelana’s commbadge signature had been detected on internal sensors exiting the station’s Holocomm Booth about an hour before the First Officer’s arrival.

Perhaps she was just working herself up into a paranoid frenzy for nothing…but paranoia was a requisite for her job. The Klingon had a diverse career and she had been a gin’tak, a retainer, an assassin, a spy, an engineer, an officer, and captain of a bird-of-prey both in the KDF and as an independent pirate after her exile…all of these most pivitol roles in her life had a singular requirement to not just be successful, but to stay merely alive in: paranoia and the over abundance of thorough awareness and labrynthine thought processing that it engendered.

Daniel nodded towards Q’orvha, non-verbally acknowledging her response before saying, “Alright, please let me know the moment you are informed she’s come aboard.” He picked up his things that he had been carrying with him this whole time and threw the strap over his shoulder once more, “I’m going to take my belongings to my quarters, then come right back. You have the bridge in the meantime, Commander.” He smiled at her slighty, then proceeded towards the turbolift. 

The lift doors hissing shut, Daniel issued his command, “Computer, deck six.” As the turbolift began to move, his mind began to wander, mostly about his previous conversation with Q’orvha. If he was being honest, though it did cross his mind, he really didn’t put too much faith in the idea that he was somehow sent or diverted to this posting by Starfleet Intelligence. 

Of course, it wouldn’t be the first time he found himself on a mission that he had not been briefed on, but somehow he sensed this situation was different. Well, at least he hoped it was. He decided to reserve any further thought to the subject until after he had a chance to meet with his new commanding officer. With the lift coming to a halt, the doors hissed open once more and Daniel stepped out and continued on towards his quarters. 

As the doors to his quarters opened, Daniel put the container on the desk and took a little tour around his room. “Very nice.” He said aloud to himself, noting how much improved his accommodations were compared to his room on the Avalon. Feeling thirsty, he decided to grab a quick drink before returning to the bridge. Walking over to the replicator, he said aloud, “Raktajino, hot.” He watched the drink materialize before his eyes before grabbing the cup and taking a sip. 

Continuing to sip his beverage, Daniel decided to check once more on the whereabouts of the captain, “Computer, scan both the station and the Aquarius and tell me the current location of Captain Vaelana.”

”Current Scans for Captain Vaelana indicate-“ The Computer began to answer, before being interrupted by an emergency comms chirp.

Daniel tapped his comm badge and said aloud, “McKnight, go ahead.”

”Commander McKnight.” Came the now familiar whispering voice of Q’orvha over the comms. ”According to internal scans, Captain Vaelana has arrived and is making her way up here to the bridge at a blistering pace.”

“Acknowledged, on my way.” Daniel replied as he set his cup back in the replicator to de-materialize. Leaving his quarters, he continued down the corridor until he was finally back in the turbolift, speaking the command to the computer, “Bridge.” He stood in the middle of the lift with his hands behind his back as it sped along towards his destination, thinking to himself ‘Well, here it goes.’ The lift finally came to a halt and the doors hissed open, revealing the bridge he had just left a few minutes earlier.

The bridge itself was a buzz of frenetic activity, as personnel in engineering jumpsuits worked on the finishing touches of the systems refit the Aquarius had been undergoing. One figure did stand out though from the rest…both figuratively in their mannerisms, as well as quite literally in terms of their height and appearance.

Towering over the situation table near the aft of the bridge, loomed the tall and statuesq figure, still clad in an eclectic mix of a black and red duty Starfleet duty uniform and hooded sleeveless robes of a clearly Klingon-designed style. The Klingon woman underneath, from her PADD-laden table, seemed to be reviewing reports and directing the functional chaos around her. 

As McKnight stepped through the threshold of the room, Q’orvha turned and called out. “Commander McKnight, welcome to the bridge…you’ve managed to beat our quarry here.”

Daniel, his hands held behind his back, tilted his head slightly as Q’orvha reported. He walked over to her as she went on.

”She seems to be taking the scenic route, according to the internals.” Q’orvha replied, gesturing to the surface of the table, where a deck layout and cross-section of the Aquarius was currently displayed admist all the interface buttons and systems review data. ”I believe she just inquired the computer about where her assigned quarters are located.”

Daniel nodded and said, “Very well, let her get settled in and see her quarters first. We will wait for her here on the bridge to make our introductions.” He looked towards the the officers on the bridge and said, “Alright people, we only get one chance to make a good first impression, let’s make sure we make a good one here and set the proper tone for the ship and its crew. I want all stations to report their current status so we can give the new Captain a proper introduction to the Aquarius.”

As everyone acknowledged his orders, Daniel looked towards Q’orvha and said, “Well, time to see what we’re in for.” He smirked a bit before he moved towards the tactical console to get a report together on the ship’s current status on repairs and upgrades. 

A few minutes later, the turbolift doors opened once again, and this time deposited the svelte figure of a raven haired Romulan woman. Sapphire blue eyes stared out from a face marred by a scar across the left cheek and her pointed ears twitched briefly as they adjusted to the busy din of the Aquarius’s command centre.

As she stepped through the threshold and on to the deck, she caught the attention of Q’orvha who stood up from her table. The Klingon’s eyes narrowed, studying the Captain clad in a freshly pressed and meticulously positioned red and black starfleet uniform…which only served to contrast with the one item on her person that was not part of the standard Starfleet Uniform Dress Code.

The Romulan was carrying a sword…a one-handed weapon with a thin curved blade, sheathed in a polymer scabbard: The blade of a Romulan duelist.

“Captain on the Bridge!” Q’orvha called out, standing up straight with precision that was only foiled slightly by a subtle grimace as the light penetrated the shadow of her cowl reached her sensitive eyes directly.

Officers and crew around the room also followed suit, halting what they were doing and turning to face the Romulan woman as they stood at attention.

Daniel stood to attention with the rest of the crew, looking on towards the new Romulan woman and observing her closely. 

”I am Captain Vaelana ir-Aehallh t’Kaeyn…for those of you unfamiliar with High Rihannsu naming conventions, Captain Vaelana will do fine.” The Romulan stated, her voice crisp and her tone coldly professional. She walked over the Captain’s chair and placed her hand over the control panel on the left-hand arm. “Computer, complete transfer of starship command and all relevant codes and clearances, command code Vaelana-2-2-Alpha.”

“Command Codes recognized. Captain Vaelana Kaeyn is now recognized as Commanding Officer of the Aquarius.” The ship’s computer chirped back.

Vaelana then activated the shipwide broadcast intercom from the right-hand panel.  

”All hands, this is Captain Vaelana. As of this moment, by the order of Starfleet Command, I have assumed command of the USS Aquarius, NCC-87003. I understand that this vessel still has some repairs and loading required, but I still expect status reports from all deck chiefs and department heads, sent to the ready room on deck one. You have two standard hours to comply. Bridge out.”

With all that done, the Romulan captain finally took a seat, placing her scabbard sword across her lap, balanced upon the arms of the command chair.

Daniel looked towards Q’orvha and raised his eyebrows slightly before making his way to his station. He knew he just met her a short while ago, but he already felt a connection with the Klingon woman. He couldn’t explain why, other than he had just grown comfortable around Klingons after living among them for as long as he had during his intelligence days. Of course he had also lived among Romulans for a few years, but something about the Klingons appealed more to him. Mostly because Klingons always made their intentions known, with the Romulans, it was always a game of great risk and reward. 

As he took his seat, he turned to Vaelana and said, “Captain, departments are preparing their reports for your review. I have sent the tactical report to your ready room for your attention. Additional reports are starting to come in from around the ship, routing those to your console as well.” He thought about introducing himself to her, but given his experience with Romulans in the past, he felt she would approach him when she saw fit, after asserting her dominance on the bridge. 

”Good…” Vaelana responded, resting her right hand on the scabbard whilst her left proceeded to scroll through the reports that came in. She then paused and looked over to the meet the First Officer’s gaze. 

“…red uniform, rank of Lieutenant Commander, human, presents as the male of the species…manning weapons control…” The Captain stated as if running through the details of a clinical dissection. “…you must be Lieutenant Commander McKnight…my new sub-command-” 

The Romulan suddenly paused, catching her slip. Almost a century of military conditioning was rearing its head and had led to a brief crack in her armour of command infallibility. “…my new executive officer.”

Daniel nodded, “Aye, Captain. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Vaelana spun her chair around to view the table and the Klingon who manned It. ”And I need no such analysis to coax your identity out…Q’orvha.”

The Klingon stopped managing the influx of the logistics and intelligence information that was streaming in for her report compilation. She stood up from her seat and spoke, her voice laden with cautious intonation. “Captain Vaelana. It has been some time since our last encounter.”

The Captain narrowed her gaze and her hand involuntarially gripped the scabbard with the white knuckled strength of her Vulcaniod ancestors. 

“McKnight! Q’orvha!” She called out, rising from her chair. “Ready Room, now.”

Daniel stood up from the tactical console after logging his credentials out and made his way over to the captain’s ready room as ordered. He waited at the doors for the captain to enter first, out of respect for her position. He didn’t know what to expect from her, but if she was anything like the Romulans that he had encounter in the past, he knew he was in for a challenge. Romulan commanders, after all, were not always the most trusting individuals you could come across, but Daniel had nothing to hide, and he was eager to prove himself in his new position.

Q’orvha followed swiftly behind the First Officer, the hem of her monastic robes twirling and twisting as she sharply turned towards the Ready Room door and power walked in quick step to reach it.

The doors to the ready room hissed and slid open to reveal a currently spartan room that was still fresh from the recent alterations of the refit. A protective sheet lay drapped over the newly replicated and installed couch, desk, and chairs, prompting the Romulan Captain to grab and tear them off both the desk and the large cushioned chair behind it, before she took her seat and placed her sword and it’s scabbard on the desk in front of her.

“Feel free to sit, the both of you.” She curtly offered, gesturing towards the two, still shrouded, chairs in front of the desk.

Daniel nodded, taking the captain up on her offer. He pulled the chair out and sat down, all the while continuing to study their new commanding officer. 

“If it is all the same, Captain, I would prefer to stand.” The tall Klingon woman intoned, her arms falling behind her back as she began to stand at attention like an officer under command inspection and dress review.

“Of course you do, Q’orvha…easier to swift respond to threats…or to generate some by launching into a suprise attack.” Vaelana coldly replied, her gaze narrowing once more on the Klingon ex-pirate. “I still remember our previous encounters well.”

“I would like to remind, with all due respect to you and your position, Captain…” Q’orvha replied, her voice naught but a deep whisper. “…that I am no longer a pirate. Starfleet has granted clemancy in return for service and acts and intelligence rendered…as I assume they have, to you.”

Vaelana leaned back in her chair and ran a finger across her own left cheek, in thought. Given their shared previous history, the Klingon was being particularly calm and self-controlled…but Q’orvha had always been uncharacteristically openly cagey for a Klingon. 

“…and that would bring us to the matter at hand, Commanders.” Vaelana said as she redirected her eyes to study her new first officer. 

Daniel turned from facing Q’orvha back to Vaelana, most likely with an expression of surprise on his face. He knew that O’orvha had met the captain previously, but it was something different to hear the tension between the two. He crossed his leg in his chair, putting his hands on his lap as he continued to listen on, keeping quiet until addressed.  

“I’ll be straightforward and blunt, damn the tact and any veiled meaning given to displays of passive aggression.” The Romulan woman stated, leaning forward onto the desk once more, her hands clasped together on the table suface, just behind the laid out sword. “Starfleet Intelligence may have been my crew and mine’s saving grace, and it may have had a hand in my rapid ascension back into a captaincy of a starship…but I have always held and intense dislike for, as the agents might say, ‘spooks’.

“Having only just found out about this assignment this morning, I have had not time to review, nor even download a copy, of the dossiers of the Aquarius’s senior ranking crew…but I do know of Q’orvha’s circumstances and history…and I grew up on a Tal Shiar vessel…so I can spot a Federation intelligence officer from 20 kliks away…and you reek of that spook stench, Commander McKnight…so I want to know…I want to establish where we stand…are you currently on assignment here from Starfleet Intelligence? A minder and handler for Q’orvha or myself?”

Daniel smiled, knowing all too well the intense paranoia of the Romulan people. He recalled it vividly during his time in their empire on his various assignments, it seemed as though they were never satisfied until you gave them the answer they wanted to hear, regardless of if it were the truth or not. He looked down to his lap, then back up to Vaelana, “You are correct, Captain. I was with Starfleet Intelligence for many years and have spent a great deal of that time working within Romulan-” Daniel then briefly turned his look towards Q’orvha, “-and Klingon territories on various assignments.”

He then stood up to a relaxed attention, focusing on Vaelana before going on, “However, the answer to your question is no. I have not been with Starfleet Intelligence for some time. I decided to leave the organization to pursue my career as a Starfleet Officer. I was good at my job and did my duty to the Federation, but serving aboard a starship was always my ultimate goal for my career, and I decided it was time to finally give myself that opportunity.” 

Daniel then put his hands behind his back, “I realize the extreme irony of all three of us being assigned to the same vessel, and frankly I don’t believe that it is a mere coincidence myself. But if I was transferred to this vessel by Starfleet Intelligence, I have not been made aware of it.”

”What’s the old saying? Once a spy, always a spy?” Vaelana mused.

”In Klingon, it’s ;a spotted targh cannot change its spots to stripes.’” Q’orvha added, allowing herself a small smirk. 

“Though for all three of us to work together, we better hope it’s not true.” The Romulan replied. “I choose to believe your story for now, Commander McKnight…It’s not like you could tell me otherwise if were not the case…understand though.

”I grew up with the Tal Shiar…I served with political commissars of the Tal Prai’ex…I have tangled with changeling shapeshifters, Orion Syndicate agents, Breen turncoats, Starfleet spies, Klingon assassins like Q’orvha here, Yridian infobrokers, and most recently, Zat Vash triple agents…turning myself over to Starfleet Intelligence as part of the amnesty and asylum deal for my warbird crew was a last resort, not the desired course.”

The Captain stood up and leaned over over her desk, tonwards her two officers. “In short, I do not care much for intelligence agencies, nor their operatives. I understand the necessity for them and the work they do, but I also know it to be a necessary evil and that it can cut both ways. Do your duty, complete your work, serve this ship…but do not give me reason to even suspect that you have orders from some shadowy beuracrat and are not telling me. If I am to command this vessel, I need to know everything that is going on, especially with my senior staff. Is that understood?”

“Aye, Captain.” Daniel replied, giving a slight nod to the captain.

”Understood, Captain.” Q’orvha said simply with a nod, before adding a response straight from the Klingon Warrior’s code. “Your will is iron and my honour follows.”

Vaelana studied the faces of the two commanders, looking for signs of betrayal and sincerity alike. “Acceptable.” She finally stated. “Commander McKnight, I want a summary of those department reports before the end of the shift…track down the department heads on foot, if you have to…and Q’orvha, the latest intelligence and strategic status of all known assets and players of note between here and the Romulan Free State, especially the independent Neutral Zone border colonies.”

“Acknowledged, you will have those reports as ordered.” Daniel replied.

”Understood, Captain.” Q’orvha replied in her whispery voice.

Vaelana sat back down at the desk and activated the LCARS terminal built into it. “Good…now I have some catching up to do with these crew assignment files. You are both dismissed.”

Daniel gave a quick nod to the captain before turning around and exiting the ready room, leaving to complete his first orders from the new captain. He still wasn’t too sure what to make of her, but he was definitely optimistic about the future after that brief meeting. 

Q’orvha turned swiftly on her heels and made straight for the exit only waiting to speak once they were both back on the bridge and the doors shut tightly behind them. “Well, that could’ve gone worse.”

“Agreed, I was actually surprised that we didn’t take more of a dressing down from her. Not at all like I had expected of previous Romulan commanders and operatives.” Daniel replied to Q’orvha.

”It‘s been reported that when Vaelana and her crew went rogue back in the day, the first thing she did was immediately and summarily execute the Tal Shiar minder on her warbird…and apparently, she actually liked the guy.” Q’orvha answered quietly. “…we still have both of our heads…maybe that spotted targh now has stripes after all?”

“I don’t know about you, but I look forward to keeping my head, Commander.” He smirked, then left and made his way to carry out his new orders. 

“To Lieutenant T’winn N’Dir, who upon arrival at Starbase K-8 will be taking up a new post as Chief Operations Officer aboard the USS Aquarius, and Commander Dietlinde, who will be heading off to a well deserved retirement!”

“Hear Hear!” came the chorus.

T’winn was certain that the science department’s cheers seemed louder than the rest of the crews.  Lately, they had seemed bothered by his thesis on Tachyonic reversion and worn down parts.  Not that he’d had a chance to test the theory, as the Engineering department was adamant that they wouldn’t allow such testing to take place on an active starship.  Something about Tachyonic radiation and warp fields causing issues with the Temporal Directive.

The Captain was speaking again “Now, the good doctor says we can’t stay up too late, and unfortunately some of us have to be on the bridge in [checks clock] 30 minutes, but the rest of you get to party until bedtime. Meanwhile, Lieutenant, follow me!” 

T’Winn followed the captain to the bridge and, not that he’d admit it, he was glad to be away from the rowdiness of the party.  It was, to be sure, more for the retiring commander than for himself, and Commander Detlinde had indeed earned it, serving aboard the USS T’Paal since its launch day many years before.

Luckily, the Captain stopped on the bridge, as T’Winn wasn’t sure whether his latest question’s thesis on Cloaking Technology and its use in small-scale endeavors was technically legal.  If the Captain had discovered the experiment currently running in his quarters, things might have become more complicated than he was willing to deal with today.  With his mind on the experiment, T’Winn failed to notice the Captain speaking to him (again), and had to ask for a repeat.

“I said Lieutenant, I’ve informed your new captain of your… tendencies… and she seems to accept them without much of an issue, though I think she thinks I was exaggerating.  Goodness knows I did when I received the same report from Captain Yonshire.”

“I do not understand what is so hard to believe, Captain.  I merely ask questions.”

“If all you did was ask the questions, it wouldn’t be so prevalent in your record.  I still have nightmares about your experiment with the Holodeck and the Dreamscape scanner.”

That one had been one of the more… interesting… experiments to date.  T’Winn had hooked the holodeck up to a brain scanner to see if you could replicate dreams as holo-scenarios.  Unfortunately, the volunteer he had used for the system had dreams that were… absolutely terrifying.  That and the system accidentally hooked into the shipwide EMS hologram matrix, filling the ship with holographic spiders ranging from the size of Tribbles to the size of Targs.  That incident had made the ship’s counsellors to have a very long day with the traumatized crew.

“I understand Captain.”

“I’m not really sure you do.” she sighed “anyways, we should be arriving at K-8 in the next 2 hours.  Until then, you’re on duty here on the bridge.” the tired Captain slinked off to her ready room, fully expecting a missive from the new captain within the week.

In the end, T’winn did not manage to shut down the experiment in his quarters, as the small-scale cloaking device worked a little too well.  Hopefully whoever gets these quarters next doesn’t get in too much trouble for having a functional mini cloaking device hiding a model version of the NX-01 Enterprise somewhere in the room.  Maybe making the model float around the room was a bad idea.

(Some weeks later, the model would ‘escape’ the room to wander the hallways, leading to a legend of a ghost on board)

Disembarking on station K8 alongside Commander Detlinde, T’Winn didn’t make it 20 meters before running into the next question to plague his mind. Unfortunately, the exact resonation difference between the Station’s generators and the T’Paal’s Warp Core will have to remain unknown.  Commander Detlinde, now a veteran at keeping T’Winn on track, practically dragged him away from the nearest engineer before he could even get started.

“I swear if you delay my retirement by even one more ******** hour I will throw you out the airlock myself” Detlinde grumbled under her breath.  She had always been this… direct with T’Winn.  This was probably the reason Captain had kept the two together on so many projects.  This was also probably the reason Commander Detlinde was retiring when she could have easily ended up captain of her own vessel.

“My asking of a question would not have delayed your retirement.  Your transportation back to Luna colony does not arrive for another three days.” T’Winn was confused, had the USS Zababa arrived early?

“I don’t get to formally retire until I complete my last orders from the Captain, to make sure you don’t get lost or annoy K8 personnel until you’re somebody else’s problem.”

T’Winn was fairly certain Commander Detlinde meant that in a light-hearted manner.  Andorian emotions can be so confusing.

Finally, they arrived at the docking port for the USS Aquarius, where Commander Detlinde flagged down a passing Ensign, said “he’s your problem now” and left.

Humans found this an exciting of perhaps a stressful time. New assignments brought with it the novelty of the unknown and of potential danger. Generally not physical danger mind you, despite the holo-vids most of life within Star Fleet was safe, but emotional danger. Would you get on with a new commanding officer? Would you fit into a new crew and make your space within it?

It all that drama sounded exhausting to Doctor N’Vea. Perhaps that was why she had bounced from ship to ship so frequently in the past few years, not setting down roots for a long term assignment. There had been no controversies or drama simply a desire to learn new things, and have new experiences. Thus this new posting as Chief Medical Officer to the USS Aquarius seemed just like another step. Like an Earth frog hopping from lily pad to lily pad keeping above the water, the next logical step.

Rearranging the medical supplies to fit how she worked was perhaps unneeded. The previous CMO was fit for duty and had left things well off, but even Vulcans felt nervous as much as they deny it to themselves and others and exerting a measure of control was a way of gaining power in a situation when you had little. Closing the cabinet after filing away emergency gauze she adjusted her uniform, and returned to the small office that was her domain. 

The history of ship board Chief Medical Officers was fascinating. From the days of the earliest tall ship sailing the oceans they had been both apart and a part of the crew. She was a Lieutenant in Star Fleet but she was also a medical doctor, and thus beholden to other oaths as well. This was not something that she dwelled on particularly much, but it was worth noting. Apart and a part.

Pulling up the ship’s last mission logs she reviewed recent travel for anything that was medically noteworthy. It was hours of reading but it was useful, and another way to eek out some control over a new and unknown situation. Not that Vulcans needed to do that of course, stress was illogical.