“…and that is increasingly challenging given the lack of response from the Cardassians.  I'm working to see who else I can reach, but a pattern is starting to form.”

Harris sat at the front of the briefing room table, taking notes on his PADD.

Hasara echoed Atega's report, “My contacts have stopped responding to me.  I'm working on several theories, but will need time in order to understand what is really happening.”

Ambrose nodded, “Let's see what we can find out.  I think…”

=^=Bridge to Captain Harris, we have a message from Task Force 72 for you, sir, updated orders."

He felt a frown coming on, “I'll take it in my ready room.”  As the channel closed, he turned to his senior staff, “Let's keep our eyes and ears out.  Dismissed.”

=^=Captain Harris.=^=

Ambrose sat back in his chair.  The smiling face of Geronimo Fontana was on his screen.  It took a moment to think of what to say, “They didn't make you an admiral, did they?”  He returned the smile.  They'd come a long way from the early days on the Edinburgh.

“No.  I don't know if I'd ever take that gig.  No, I'm calling because I've accepted the position of Executive Officer for Task Force 72.  I was asked to work on balancing our operational fleet, and your name was at the top of my list."

Harris was curious, “I've been happy here in Task Force 47 - we've done some good work out there.”

Fontana understood, “And they're just as happy with you…but you've got experience working with Cardassians…and one aboard with experience in many different places in the union.  We've got our own issues here with Cardassians.  I'm sure you've read about The True Way and the challenges there." He tapped at his console, “I've got lots of background I'm sending you.” Ambrose remained quiet and waited for Fontana to pick up on it.  It didn't take him long.  “You're not thrilled with the assignment?”

“Is there a choice in this, Fontana?”

The medical doctor smiled quietly, “Always to the point, Captain.  It's a change in assignment.  No crew changes, no ship changes…just moving you into an operational theater better suited for what you know how to do.”

“It's never that easy.”

Geronimo shrugged, “Easy, not easy…it's something to do, and it's us putting trust in you to handle the business of the task force.  Come to Starbase 72 in the Minos Korva system.  You can meet some folks, get your crew acclimated, and get to work."

Ambrose resisted the urge to grimace or cringe.  Instead, he nodded, “I'll set our course and head your way, Captain Fontana.”  He closed the channel and stood from his chair.  Whatever reasons Fontana had for bringing him to the new task force, they were probably legitimate.  He hoped they would find continued success in this new task force.

The USS Mackenzie thundered through space toward Starbase 72.  T’saath sat in the center chair, ruminating on the changes.  A new task force and a new station.  She had been working through her experiences that had occurred during their last mission.  Vulcans appeared unemotional and strictly logical.  This was true.  Beneath the calm waves and placid exterior was another story.  Mediation had been challenging.  It usually was simple and effective.  The image of her doppelganger from the mirror universe haunted her as she worked to restore control of her emotions.  Starfleet Command had taken the older version of herself into custody.  Several times a week, she had started composing a message asking about her status.  Each time she abruptly deleted the words.

Her mailbox held a pending invite from the chief counselor, one which she was steadfastly ignoring.  She needed to feel the refreshing sensation of control.  She felt like one of her legs wasn’t strong enough as she walked through her mind.  T’saath recognized the logic in accepting the meeting with Woodward, but there was a small part of her that was fighting it.  She was trying to figure out why, but she was finding it challenging. Something in her was pushing back.  It was causing the waters within her to storm more than usual.

“Commander, we’re approaching the sector.”  

Prentice’s voice pulled her out of her introspection.  “Disengage warp drive…plot a docking course with the Starbase.  Ensign Atega, request docking privileges when in range.”  The officers went to work, and T’saath sat back in the command chair.  She accessed her messages and tapped ‘accept’ to Woodward’s invite.

“Welcome to Starbase 72, Captain Harris.”  The dock technician glanced at his PADD and then to the Mackenzie, “We’ve received your list of supplies and punch list.  Captain Fontana wanted to see you as soon as you arrived.”

Ambrose made his notes on his PADD and signed the tech’s PADD.  He walked down the gangway, taking in the beauty of Starbase 72.  She was the classic design that inspired awe, even among long-time Starfleet veterans.  They were floating nations in space and had everything you could imagine needing.  Harris mused, and probably more than you could imagine, I think.

He took his time walking through the expansive station.  The sights, the smells, and the sounds were sometimes overwhelming, but he pressed on, wanting to soak in as much as he could from the collision of culture, species, and, most importantly – food.  An hour later, he reached the Task Force 72 section of the station.  The administrative assistant led him back to the XO’s office, and he stepped in, greeted by a still-smiling Captain Fontana, “Captain Harris!  Welcome to Task Force 72.”  He gestured to the chair and then to the rest of the room, “I’m still slowly moving in – trying to figure out how and what my office will look like isn’t something I imagined being part of the assignment.”

Sitting in the chair, Harris agreed.  The blank walls were noticeable.  “Why am I here, Captain?”

Fontana’s smile faltered, “We wanted your experience.”  He leaned over his desk as he sat down, “You don’t believe me.”

The Mackenzie CO paused and contemplated how to answer the fellow captain.  “Truthfully?  There are plenty of crews in Fourth Fleet that are far more experienced than we are in every way.  We haven’t even made it a full year on the Mackenzie.”

Geronimo listened to him speak.  Harris was still a young captain at 35, and he could understand his thinking and feelings.  “They might be more experienced or more seasoned…but…Ambrose, I served with you.”  He explained, “You had every right to raise a full mutiny on me when I stepped on every single one of your toes on the Edinburgh.  You didn’t.  You stood on principle and kept your crew on the clean side of the sector when it came to me.”  He nodded at the large display screen to his left, “This sector…and the sectors we’re responsible for require those principles.  You were free to operate on your own in your previous task force…but it’s even more so here.  We want to make sure our captains are people of principle who need to fight for the right thing.”

Harris grumbled, “Even if we don’t like it or want it?

Fontana felt for him.  “You’ll never get exactly what you want in life, Ambrose.  I’m living proof of that.  After the Edinburgh, I had some proving work to do…and I threw myself into everything I could get my hands on.”

A scoff from his former XO, “Did you want this gig?  Be honest, Geronimo.”

“I think…I think I’ve been looking for where I fit in in Fourth Fleet.  I wasn’t the best captain, and I learned a lot from you and your crew.  Thing is….I know how to organize things and work within the bureaucratic world.  I can do a lot of good sitting in this office.”

Ambrose shook his head, a sly smile slipping over his lips, “Or a lot of damage.”

Fontana laughed out loud, “There is also that.  He regarded Harris for a moment.  Would he be able to adapt to the world of 72?  Was his transferring the officer to his task force a mistake?  Only one way to find out.  “I’m looking forward to what you do with us, Ambrose.”

Harris stood to attention, “I’ll get to the point of accepting my new place in this world, Geronimo…it just might not be today.”  He stepped forward and extended his hand.  The two former enemies shook hands, and Fontana nodded as Ambrose left his office.  He sat down, wondering what was next for him and the task force.

Henry Longfellow stared at the ceiling of the quarters he had been assigned at Starbase 72.  His brief assignment at Starbase Eos had been interrupted by a call from the Task Force Executive Officer who had run across his file.  He was needed for something.  The details were short, and the only caveat Longfellow had asked for was that his nurse, Asata Hiro, come along for the ride.

=^=Task Force Operations to Lieutenant Longfellow – your presence is requested in operations.=^=

Henry sat up.  The chrono read 0800, and he sighed deeply.  He hadn’t found his home yet.  Wearing on him was the thought that he never would.  Another sigh and a groan as he stood and pushed himself through the shower and into a fresh uniform, his feet carrying him to the operations center.  The officer at the desk took his name and escorted him back through the corridors to an interview room.  A young woman stood from her chair and extended her hand, “Lieutenant Jordan Reid, Chief Medical Officer of the Mackenzie.  Have a seat, Doctor Longfellow.” He dutifully sat and waited awkwardly for an explanation.  She answered his unspoken question, “My current assistant chief is retiring.  I sent a request to our task force, and here we are.”

Longfellow wasn’t sure he was in the right place or even the right person, “You’ve seen my file.  You can’t be serious.”

Reid disagreed, “Your file is why you’re here, doctor.  You have an unparalleled focus on patient care and a passion for being as close to perfection as possible in any circumstance.  Your efforts on Eos were remarkable.”

A snort, “You haven’t read the whole file.”  He moved to stand.

“You are not dismissed, Lieutenant Longfellow.”  She pushed the PADD over so he could see it.  It was his file in its entirety.  “I have read the whole file.  Three times.  And each time, I keep finding reasons to offer you the assistant chief medical officer position.  You’ve endured much, doctor.  You haven’t given up.”

Henry sighed, “There are days I wish I could, lieutenant.”  He mused, “You think I’m worth your time?”

Reid nodded, “I didn’t drag you out here just to fill a position in my department.  You were intentional, I assure you.”  She reached for the PADD, “Your quarters are assigned and will be next door to Ensign Hiro.  She said her decision would be based on yours.”

Longfellow felt his heart shift slightly, “She’s an old friend.  Can’t seem to get rid of her.”

Jordan gave him a knowing look, “When you find your people, and they’re willing to journey through it all with you…that’s a good sign.”  She stood, “You’ll have twenty-four hours to tell me your decision.  I look forward to your answer, Doctor Longfellow.”

She made it to the door as it opened when he turned in the chair, “You’re not very subtle, are you, Doctor Reid?”

Jordan nearly rolled her eyes at the man, “I don’t dance, Henry.  I know what I need in my crew, and if you don’t join us, I’ll move on down the line.  If you want to join the Mackenzie family and the benefit that brings, we’ll welcome you with open arms.”  She stayed in the door, sensing something more was coming.

He proved her right, “Does this family get along all the time?”

She smiled, “No, we don’t.  Is that a problem?”

He held eye content with her for what felt like an eternity and then pulled the PADD up to read it one last time.  He tapped in his response on the screen and handed it back to her, “I accept.  Begrudgingly.”

Reid accepted the PADD, “Then I’ll see you onboard and in my sickbay by 1200 hours.  Good day, Doctor Longfellow.”  The door closed behind her, and Henry let out a long sigh.  What in the hell had he just done?   

Harris sat at one of the spacedock viewing lounges, a mug of Earl Grey in one hand and a PADD in the other.  The ship’s moving in and out were a sight to behold – all kinds of classes dotted the bay, and he found contentment in it.  His past Chief life had been filled with studying ship classes and the engineering that powered them.  Two ships coming through the main dock doors caught his eye as he accessed his PADD.

There had been a change in ship assignments, it appeared.  The rumors he’d heard for a few weeks were true.  The USS Wolf and USS Akira were entering the dock.  They were both sleek ships: one Akira, the other Diligent class.  He admired them both and wondered who would get command of either ship.  His assignment to the Mackenzie was still a surprise to him, even five months later.

“Captain?”  He turned to see his executive officer, T’Saath, hovering nearby.  

He waved her over to the padded couch, “Commander, join me.”  She did, hesitantly.  She had a PADD in both hands and held an unusually tight grip on the device.

“I have a mission…request.”  She was pensive, and she wasn’t enjoying the sensation.  Her sessions with Juliet had been helping, yet there was a need to work, and they’d been docked at Starbase 72 for a few days.

Harris sipped at his tea, “You have my curiosity.”

She went on to explain the situation facing many of the colonies in the area and the mixed feelings held towards the Federation.  There were good and plentiful reasons for these deeply seeded-emotions.  She countered that taking the Mackenzie full speed into the situation might cause more harm than good.

Ambrose inclined his head and examined her mission plan as she spoke.  She had put considerable effort into the mission proposal, and it was a different side of her he was seeing.  “You’re suggesting we take the two New Atlantic runabouts with a three-shuttle escort to bring relief supplies and engineering teams with a minimal security presence.  A bold choice, Commander.”

The Vulcan indicated she understood with a slight nod, “There is a logical amount of risk associated with this mission, but after evaluating each side of the issue, I expect minimal issues from the population.  I’ve noted the top three colony choices for the mission along with the rationale underpinning each.”

Harris chuckled, “You don’t need to convince me, T’saath.  You were right, however, to complete a full workup of the mission.  Task Force Command will be looking at us closer since we’re one of the newer assignments to the fleet.  This will go a long way to giving them continued confidence in our talents.”  He leaned back on the couch, “Proposal approved.  Choose your crew and set your timeline.  Chief Okada isn’t available as she’s working the Starbase dock operations.”

T’Saath stood to attention, “Thank you, sir.  I appreciate your confidence in me.”  He lifted his cup in response, and his XO walked away, her mission now her sole focus.  Ambrose continued to sip his Earl Grey slowly and watched the ships continue to pass through.  He wondered who would get the Akira and the Wolf. 

She’d never had to do this before.  A PADD sat on the table in front of her, and a list of ten applicants filled the screen.  Each department head who didn’t have an assigned assistant chief had been ordered to fill the position.  Presley chewed on her bottom lip.  She had come a long way since being assigned to the Mackenzie in October of last year.  Through counseling and working on her own, she’d gotten to know her communications department by name and position.  She’d treasured the small victories in being invited to the crew mess hall for drinks on leave but was still nervously turning them down.  Now she had to choose someone to be her second.  “First time for everything, I suppose.”

Harris had told her earlier that day, “I’ve learned how important it is to have someone ready to step in your position, even temporarily.”

Sitting at the conference room table in the corridors of Task Force 72, she felt as if she’d been tossed onto a leaky raft in the middle of a vast ocean planet.  How was she supposed to choose from the five people who had applied?  Two were internal applicants, and three were external.  There was a rubric, of course, and an allotment for letters of recommendation along with extra certifications, exams, and job performance evaluations.  Harris had told her she would need to get it to two applicants in order for her to move to the interview process.

She dug into their applications, her eyes searching each detail that might clue her into a key piece of evidence that would either succeed in convincing her to accept or push her to eliminate the applicant.  It took an hour of researching, reading, and repeating the process.  One of the external officers had already accepted a position on another ship, and two of her officers had been granted transfer orders that morning.  She had two external applicants with sterling applications.  One was an Ensign who had served on a Raven for the last year and was looking to expand her future career, and the other was a recent graduate of Starfleet Academy.  Atega sent messages to both for interviews.

“You never forget them.”  Harris looked up and found Captain Fontana, cup in hand, walking his way.  He gestured to the New Orleans class ship that was docked in the bay.  Harris had moved to another observation lounge, and it had been partially intentional.  He’d seen the dock reports about a New Orleans class coming in for repairs.  She wasn’t the Edinburgh, but she was close enough.

“The Eddie was something special.” He changed subjects, “Heard Vax got the Akira and the Wolf for squadron operations.  That will be interesting.”

Fontana arched an eyebrow.  What was Harris playing at?  Or was he just making small talk?  “Interesting…how?”

Harris offered up his PADD, “Her service jacket is one helluva read, at least the stuff that’s publicly available.”  He felt his Task Force XO’s eyes asking for more, “I like to know who I’m sharing the operating theater with.”

Geronimo sat down and asked, “Did you do this kind of research over in 47?”

“I do my research.  Learned on my first assignment the trouble you invite when you don’t know what you’re getting into – be prepared became my motto.”

Fontana leaned back and took a sip of his tea.  He had read the reports from the captain’s time on the Garrison.  And the recent visit he had engineered.  “You went back to her with…who was it?”

Harris smiled quietly, “Don’t try and gladhand me, Geronimo.  You know it was McKee, and you know why we were there.”

The TFXO leaned over, “Direct and to the point – you are consistent, Ambrose.  We do keep track of our officers.  I am glad it seemed helpful…for you both.”  He looked around the dock windows. He appreciated the view of the various class ships, “I didn’t just come to verbally spar.  We got a request from Rachel Elizabeth McKee to return to Starfleet service as an officer.”

Ambrose turned to face him, “When?”  He felt his heart move a little faster, and his eyes go a little wider.

“Late last night.  She identified a few ships as her preferred assignments.  Yes, Mackenzie is on there.  Don’t panic; she’s been out for ten years.  We will run her through a modified academy to catch her up on the Starfleet of 2401.”  Fontana asked, “If we determine she’s good enough for Mackenzie, are you open to her assignment?”

He felt the question echo through his mind several times.  “She still wants to be an engineer?”

“Not this time.  She’s identified Operations as her preferred area of assignment.” He held his gaze on Harris, “Are you open to her assignment?”

Harris considered it for a moment.  He’d known his answer since she’d fled Starfleet ten years ago.  “Yes, I’m open.  I’m all about second chances.”

Fontana stood, “I’ll start the paperwork.  Depending on how her academy work goes, she could be on your roster by the middle of March.  Enjoy the view, Captain Harris.”  With that, he was gone into the crowds.  Ambrose returned his attention to the New Orleans class ship, memories of the Edinburgh and the Garrison filtering through his mind.

“We are nearing the planet, commander.”  The pilot of the Winona worked the console while she coordinated with the other runabout and shuttles.  The planet on the maps was identified as R332 but was known in the sector as House of Pora.

T’saath gave a nod for him to drop out of warp, and the five ships flashed into the sector and proceeded toward the planet.  There were several colonies spread across the surface, and most of them were within a day’s walk of either other.  She signaled to the others to follow their course as she tapped the console, “This is Federation Runabout Winona calling House of Pora Space Control.  We are on approach with four other shuttles inbound with medical and engineering supplies responding to a call for assistance.”

In the rear compartment, Chief Kondo helped Doctor Reid prepare the various biobeds and mobile equipment containers, “Given what we read, I don’t expect a warm welcome, Doc.”

Reid motioned to three attached medical officers to unpack the mobile stretchers, “The people out here have every reason not to trust us…or anyone for that matter.  Our only hope for this mission is that we at least put all of our cards on the table…and don’t try and hide anything.”

The Chief Security officer grumbled, “Is that why you mandated a lower amount of security offices than what I would usually recommend?”

Jordan turned to him, annoyed. “We are in a different part of space with this new task force, Kondo.  Where we were was significantly different from where we are now.  Taking a chainsaw to a chip on someone’s shoulder isn’t the most balanced or helpful response.”

De La Fontaine gawked at her, “You misunderstand….”

She held up her hands as if to surrender, “I’ve got people to save, heal, vaccinate, and whatever else they’re willing to let me do.  You security, I’ll medical.  I need you to let me run this as much as possible without getting into it with anyone.  When the time, god forbid, comes for some blunt-force trauma, I’ll step aside.” Kondo gave a slight nod and moved to return to his work.  Jordan watched him momentarily and then sighed, “I’m sorry, Kondo.  I’m…this is a big mission for us.  I think I’m just feeling the pressure of doing this right and not causing some kind of incident on our this mission.”

His soft eyes turned to her, and he shrugged, “We are all in a new place here, Jordan.  You, me, Captain Harris…change is hard…and figuring out our place in this newness isn’t easy.  I know that feeling all too well.  Apology accepted.”  He let the moment breathe as she reflexively relaxed. “How can I help?”  She gave a thankful and thin smile as she began to walk through the checklists with him.

Back in the cockpit, T’saath tapped the beeping console, =^=Federation Runabout, you are ordered to enter a holding pattern while leadership evaluates your request=^=

The pilot turned with a quizzical look on his face, “Commander…what does a holding pattern look like in…space?”

She examined a map of the sector, “We’ll pull out of orbit and retreat to this point here.  I’ll advise the others.”  The Vulcan tapped out the message as the Winona turned towards the point she had identified.  Her logical mind had already begun to evaluate the attitude of the controller through reasoning, given the area’s history.  Was it designed to give them what the humans called a ‘cold shoulder’?  Or was this more of how things were done with everyone who came to this part of space?  Variations and variables spun through her mind as it worked through each scenario possible.

Kondo came forward from the rear, “Holding pattern?”  A nod from T’saath, and he suggested, “Ensign, monitor the planet-based weapons systems.  Just in case.”  He stepped back into the rear compartment.”

The communications channel chirped, and T’saath tapped it open, =^=Federation Runabouts, you will land at the indicated location.  Make ready for inspection and interviews from our security forces.=^=  Kondo slipped back to the cockpit and frowned as the channel abruptly closed.

“That is…unusual.”  He read the console and glanced at the planet.  Something wasn’t adding up.

The XO agreed, “They are understandably paranoid and distrust us.  However…”  She tapped on the console, “I’m inclined to keep one shuttle back to observe and report back to the Mackenzie should something unpredictable occur.”

Kondo suggested, “Chief Tir on shuttle Slidell would be a good choice.  He’s senior staff and can react to a developing situation.”  He didn’t mention the symbiont Tir and the additional help she could lend.

She replied, “I concur.  Prepare the crew for landing.”

The Winona, followed by New York, Alexander, and Formosa, burst through the clouds and meandered towards the outlined landing area.  Slowly but surely, they all landed in a large circle, and T’saath disembarked first.  They had picked up on sensors a small group of vehicles heading their way.  She motioned to the crews to unpack their containers and supplies, sorting them out in the center of the circle of shuttles and runabouts.  They were nearly done when the rumble and roar of the large trucks crested the ridge and tore through the grass, spitting debris behind the large wheels.  Creaking to a stop, darkly uniformed men jumped out.  They were all armed with rifles in their hands and energy pistols on their belts.  The leader stepped forward, “You will be inspected and searched by order of The Cabal.  Do not resist.”  The Starfleet officers glanced to T’saath, who indicated to do as they were told.  The leader pulled out a clipboard, as did the others, who began to walk around glancing at officers and supplies alike.  “I am Tark Kura, Chief of Protection for this colonial county.”  He indicted to T’saath, “You are a Vulcan, yes?”  She nodded.  “We have a strict rule against telepaths or empaths on our planet.  You will need to leave.”

She raised her eyebrows slightly, “I was under the impression that this world hosted various species and types of aliens.”

He scoffed at her loudly, “Maybe five years ago, Vulcan.  We discovered interlopers among us who were planning to betray us.  So we pushed them out…and did what was needed.”  He moved on, leaving T’saath in a perplexed state.  He inspected and scanned Kondo, Reid, Prentice, and Fowler without too much trouble.  Kura then arrived at three medical officers, “Two of these are Betazoid.  They will need to leave and be replaced.”

Reid glanced at the two apologetically, “Who’s idea was it to…expel the telepaths and empaths?”

He made a note on his clipboard, “It was made in coordination with a member of our leadership group.  He exposed the traitors using his technology, and he helped us see the need to clean our house.”

Jordan felt the hair on the back of her neck rise, “Who is this…member of leadership?”

“His name is Pantheon, and he is part of our people.  He comes from The Devore Imperium…and he is very wise.”

T’saath turned to face the Chief of Protection, her eyebrows fully raised, “Would you allow us a brief moment to speak alone?”  She caught the eyes of the senior command team as she said it, and the message was clear.

He sighed, “Very well.  We still need to complete the inspection.  You have ten minutes.”  He motioned to his team, and they moved off to stand by their trucks.

The group quickly gathered, and Prentice spoke up, his eyes wide, “I vote we head home and bring the Mackenzie back.  This isn’t a good thing.  The Devore are awful.”

Kondo cautioned him, “As far as we know, there is only one Devore here.  While he’s convinced them of the situation, I don’t think he was being honest about the traitors.  It sounds like there wasn’t any kind of trial – they just ran them out of town.”

Fowler added darkly, “Or worse.  He did say, ‘do what was needed.’  I don’t know about you, but that sounds suspicious, like…well, murder.”

Jordan stepped forward, her eyes looking at each of them, “Look, we’re here.  I think we do as they ask – we can send them back to the Mack and give a first-hand report to the Captain.  These people do need our help, and we’d be a sorry group if we refused just because they offended our sensibilities.”

Sadie grumbled, “Doctor Reid makes a good argument.  I think we go with her plan.  Sorry, Commander.”

T’saath’s brows had furrowed, “It is the logical choice.  Let them complete their inspections.”  She turned to Kura and his group, waving them over.  The inspections and questions continued apace.  In the end, a total of five of their officers were ordered off the planet.  They took the shuttle Alexander into orbit to report with Tir on Slidell.  

Reid turned her attention back to the inspection team, “Where would you like us to go first?”

What in the everloving hell is going on, Calog?  This is…madness!  Tir was inconsolable in his head as the Chief Operations Officer took the reports from the other shuttle’s occupants.

He repeated the question, “You said they have a member of the Devore Imperium down there?  That’s… unnerving.  If he’s been there for five years, it suggests he came through the wormhole with an intention…or even a mission.”

The ensign echoed his feelings, =^=They looked at us as if we were diseased.  They kept their distance.  Five years is a long time for someone’s story to be believed – even if it lacks any element of truth.=^=

“Very well, ensign.  I’ll let Captain Harris know you’re coming.  Have T’Saath transport over.  Slidell out.”  He turned in his seat to the gathered officers behind him, “I’m assigning you five to replace them.  Get your gear together, and I’ll transport you down.”  Moments later, they were lost in the white light of the transporter.  

Within moments, T’saath appeared on the transporter pad, “Lieutenant Tir.”  He greeted her similarly. 

Calog.  The Devore Imperium are bad people.  Tir had settled into a corner of his head and was sitting in a chair as she listed out all the horrible things that had occurred during their time in the Delta Quadrant.  You can’t be telling me you think this is going to be any different?

T’saath slid into the chair beside him, “What is Tir saying?”  She caught his glance, “Vulcans are observers, Lieutenant.  You have a tell when she is speaking with you.”

He leaned back in his chair, amused, “She thinks it will be more of the same.  I think it will be a disaster…but probably a different kind of catastrophe.  Whoever this Devore is, he’s been here in the Alpha Quadrant for five years – there’s no way he’s been able to keep communication with them…unless he communicated through the wormhole when it opened.”  He tapped at his console as he opened the secure priority channel.  The face of his captain appeared momentarily.

=^=Tir! T’Saath! What’s this about a shuttle headed back?=^=  Calog and T’Saath explained from the start, and Harris patiently listened until the end in which he expressed his shock, =^=I’m tempted to get the Mackenzie underway to you.  I don’t like this.=^=

Calog understood, “I know…and usually I’d be the first one to say release the hounds…but it’s a tenuous situation.  We’ve got enough of their trust for them to take us to one of the cities to see what we can do to help.  I’ve got locks on the crew and will monitor them every step of the way.”

The Vulcan XO affirmed, “It is the best logical choice in the middle of an illogical situation.”  

Tir added, “You’ll be my first call if things go wrong, sir.”  Harris thanked them and closed the channel.  Calog turned to his XO, ”What’s first, Commander?”  She gave him the responsibility of maintaining a lock on the crew while she worked the sensors.  They needed answers.

Harris sat in his ready room, frowning.  An application had come through for the assistant chief science position, and he’d been staring at it for a long time.  The file was an incredible read.  She was over three hundred years old for starters, and for a Vulcan, that was a long time.  Ambrose wondered how T’Penga would get along with Chief Fowler.  He was also left to wonder how his executive officer would react to another Vulcan, and one significantly older than her.  The truth was they needed a stronger science team and Fowler had been quietly asking for help since she’d been promoted.  He tapped his badge, “Captain Harris to Lieutenant T’Penga, please report to the USS Mackenzie and see me in my ready room.”  Sitting back in his chair, he began to prepare his questions.

T’Penga of Vulcan had boarded the Mackenzie about two days ago and had yet to meet the Captain. The ship itself did not seem too different from the Excelsior Class that she remembered. Which was something that she could appreciate. She had been setting up her meditation table in her quarters when the Captain called. T’Penga tapped her comm badge. “I am on my way, sir.” Moments later, she found herself outside of the Ready Room. After ringing the door chime, she placed her hands behind her back and awaited the Captain’s answer.

Ambrose glanced up, “Come on in.”   He gestured to the chair, “Feel free to grab a drink from the replicator if you’d like, Lieutenant.”

T’Penga took the chair offered and sat rigidly straight. “Thank you for the offer, Captain. However, refreshment is not needed at this time. Lieutenant T’Penga reporting as ordered, sir. I must apologize for not checking in with you sooner. I have been getting… How does the human expression go? …My sea legs back.”

He sat down in his chair, PADD in hand.  He held it up, “You’ve got quite a file.”  He had read through it several times.  Each time something new came to mind.  He landed on, “You could have had the choice of where you ended up – your record is fairly sterling.  Why Mackenzie…and why Assistant Chief of Science?”

“I shall answer the second part of your question first, if I may. Assistant Chief Science Officer was my last posting prior to my disappearance and subsequent reappearance. When I decided to take another shipboard posting, it seemed only logical to start where I last left off. Now as to the Mackenzie, again, as the idiom goes, work with what you know. The Excelsior Class was the workhorse of the fleet many years ago, and here is the refit version of that very same class. So logic dictates I start there as well.” T’Penga spoke in even tones without the slightest hint of emotion or expression. She was one with total logic, and the Kolinhar had purged all sense of emotion from her.

Harris understood her desires.  T’saath had started to help him acclimate to the unique dynamics of a Vulcan officer, and he suspected that T’Penga would continue to teach him the ways.  He leaned forward in the chair, “A return to familiarity, I suppose.”  He tapped at his PADD, “I think you’ll fit in well here on the Mack, Lieutenant.  I’ll send you the details of your superior officer, Sadie Fowler.  She’s currently on an away mission, but…”

=^=Bridge to Captain Harris, we have a message from the away team, sir.  Well, I don’t know if it’s from the away team.  They want to talk to the Captain.=^=

Ambrose glanced at his new assistant chief, “Welcome aboard the Mackenzie.  Join me on the bridge.”

T’Penga cocked her left eyebrow in that all too familiar Vulcan way as the Captain walked passed her and out to the bridge. “Yes, Captain…” She followed him out and onto the Bridge.

He headed out the door and glanced at Ensign Atega at communications, “Put it on screen.  Lieutenant T’Penga, take the science station, please.”  Harris turned and stood facing the viewscreen, unsure of what he was about to face.  It flickered and then solidified on a face that chilled him.  It was a Devore Imperium officer, and the smugness was universal.

=^=I am Pantheon, and I am one of the leaders of this colony world.  Your crew is currently being detained for suspicion of anti-governmental activities.  We will transmit a complete list of allegations.=^=

Ambrose didn’t attempt to hide his disdain and frowned, “You asked for us.  We sent our crews to assist.  Your allegations are baseless – none of our crew would consider doing anything like that.”

=^=Their trial will be held in three days.  We will also transmit our laws and legal code of conduct to you.  You are allowed three defenders to stand for them in our courts.  The clock starts now, Captain Harris.=^=  The screen cut.

T’Penga took her station and immediately began to run any and all scans of the planet. It may have not been needed; however, she found it logical to have as much information as she could gain. She also managed to gain tracking of the away team by their life signs via the shuttle above the planet at least for the time being. She had just arrived, and already she was in the thick of it. 

Harris walked to his chair and tapped the console, “Message to all crew of the Mackenzie – return to stations within the hour.”  He turned to the science officer, “Suggestions?”

“I have managed to get tracking on the away team. I have used their life signs for the sensors to track. This way should they be moved we can find them. In the immediate, I would not recommend beaming them out or trying to get them back by force. We should follow their legal procedures until we know more. I would assign three officers to go down there as defense counsel. Logic would dictate that yourself should be one of them.” T’Penga found the charges and the proceedings to be fascinating. 

Harris considered her suggestions, “I think I’ll have to be one of them.  You would be an additional resource as you’re as close to an impartial person as we could find – you’ve spent all of a few days aboard the Mackenzie.  We’ll depart the station in an hour and head to the planet.”  He considered another point, “Meet me in my ready room at 1330 and we’ll dig into what we’re up against.”

T’Penga saw the logic in the Captain’s request that she join the defense team. Although since she was still relatively new to the ship she did not quite know what she could add. “Yes sir…” She said in response to the Captain’s orders. This certainly was an intriguing situation and one that she would like to see the ending of.

Longfellow sat in a darkened coffee shop, his cup steaming quietly.  He’d been staring at the corridor beyond since he’d sat down.  His mind wandered and spun at various speeds and directions.  So much still was left on the table of his mind, and the kitchen full of weight that sat on his heart left the balance uneven.  Sitting next to him was Asato Hiro.  She stared at the tendrils of heat that swirled above her green tea.  Her heart was adjacent to her long-time mentor’s ongoing feelings.  Both had resisted speaking to each other beyond the rudimentary and required, and a quiet treaty of silence had been unknowingly negotiated between the two.

“Heya.”  They both startled at the lilted accent of their Chief Counselor, and she allowed a sheepish smile, “Sorry y’all, I forget how quiet I can be around others.”  She sat in the empty chair and sipped her coffee, “Damn fine coffee they make here.”  She glanced at both medical officers, “Y’all look like someone shot your dog or somethin’.  What’s goin’ on?”

Henry shook his sight slightly.  He wasn’t quite up to talk.  Asato cleared her throat and took a drink, wincing at the temperature.  “Sensei Longfellow is still processing the loss of his wife, Lieutenant Woodward.  I am feeling lost myself.  It seems we’ve been in transit from Bravo to Eos to here…and not enough time has passed for us to adapt and adopt this place as our own.”

Juliet held her gaze not on the nurse but on the doctor.  “You can call me Juliet or Woodward – I’m not much on rank, to be fair. I’ve read your file, Dr. Longfellow.  The situation with your wife was…,”

Henry spoke, “Horrifying.”  He took a quiet sip of his coffee and appreciated the fresh taste on his palette.  “At least the coffee is good.”  He clasped his hands together, “I know I need to make time to speak with you, Lieutenant.”

She sighed loudly and primarily for effect, “Y’all are new.  I’m Juliet or Woodward.  Counselor, if you need somethin’ honorific to hold onto.”  She cocked her head, “Yes, Henry, you are overdue to see me.  I won’t lie to you – I had to track you down to check a box that at least I made somethin’ resembling a house call before my computer or assistant started screaming at me.  They’re both pretty loud.”

Longfellow cracked a quiet smile, “Only one of them is human and more likely to escalate the harassment.  Computers can be turned off.”

The counselor returned the smile, “Ensign Rutgers is one of the best taskmasters I’ve met, and I wouldn’t want to disappoint her.  She’s just as tenacious with patients, so consider this the only warnin’ you’re goin’ to get.” A resigned sigh was his answer, and Asata indicated she would make sure he followed up.  Woodward stood and turned to leave when their communications badges chirped, =^=All Crew of the USS Mackenzie to report back to stations by 1330=^=

All three glanced at each other for clues before they hustled out of the coffee shop and headed back to the Mack.

“You’ve got some serious balls showing up here, Okada.”  The lumbering figure of former Crew Chief Hosea Haskins stood as Katsumi walked into Engineering Operations, PADD in hand.  Back on Bravo, they had clashed.  She’d nearly punched his lights and his ticket.  She’d shown grace and was now questioning that decision.

“I’m not here about the past, Lieutenant Haskins.  I’m here to turn in my latest updates on the Mackenzie and our status.”

He stared at her and the proffered PADD.  “You think you can walk in here…and ignore what happened?  I got sent her because of you!”

She raised her eyebrows and kept her voice even, “You are responsible for you, Lieutenant, just as I am responsible for me.  You broke a shipload of rules and regs…what did you expect to happen?”

He moved to speak, but a door opened, and Commander Vane stepped into the lobby, her eyes searching for the sounds that had disturbed her focus.  She landed on Haskins and Katsumi.  “Lieutenant Haskins.  What is the issue?”  Opening his mouth and shutting it several times was the best answer he could give.  Vane stared at him, “I’ve tolerated you long enough.  I’m moving you back to the pool for reassignment.  You are dismissed.”  His mouth repeated the previous performance, but eventually, his feet got the message as he packed up his things and skittered away, glaring at his former colleague.  The Head of Shipyard Operations turned around, “Commander Okada Katsumi, USS Mackenzie.  She’s a beautiful ship.”

Okada tried to regain control seeing one of her engineering heroes in person but wasn’t acquitting herself well.  “Uh, thank you, Commander Vane.  I’ve only been on two ships as Chief, and she’s my favorite…so far.”

Vane’s face swirled with quiet mirth as she nodded approvingly, “I read your file.  Captain Harris got lucky with you.  I know he doesn’t believe in luck…but it was a good day when he found you.  I’d have had you here at Starbase 72 had I known where you were languishing.”  She accepted the PADD and glanced over it, “Good report, Commander.  I’ll log it immediately.  We’re just finishing with the Mackenzie – she’ll be ready at 1330.”  She returned the PADD, “Anything else you need?”

Katsumi chuckled, “It’s enough to have met you, Commander Vane.  I’m going to remember this for a long time.”

Vane extended her hand, “We’ll see each other again soon enough, Commander Okada.  You’re part of the task force…and we take care of our ships and people.”  Okada shook the woman’s hand and nearly squealed with delight.

Okada’s badge beeped, =^=All Crew of the USS Mackenzie to report back to stations by 1330=^=

Vane gave her a knowing look, “You’ve got work to do, Commander.  Good luck, and take care of the Mackenzie.” The Chief Engineer shook loose her starry eyes and took off searching for a transporter. Something had happened.

The Mackenzie was underway and flying.  With much of the senior staff on the away team, it had now fallen to either assistant chiefs or lead techs to handle the day-to-day business as they sped to the rescue of their fellow crew.  Harris had met with each department briefly.  Bringing relief to their fears and worries had been first on his list. The second was getting the various groups shifting to prepare for what lay ahead.  The relative age and experience on the Mack still trended young.  It had been beneficial when his command team worked together to train and mentor them.  It would be challenging as they prepared for the legal and logistical challenges ahead.

He’d left Atega at the CONN and returned to his ready room.  The meeting with his new assistant science chief awaited.  The “judicial briefing’ was open on his PADD, and he began to sift through it again while he awaited T’Penga.

T’Penga had taken the time while the ship made its way to look over the legal procedure and, in fact, the law of the matter. She would have to learn exactly what evidence they had to cause the arrests. That would tell the Vulcan how they should proceed. She was a science officer, and law was not her specialty; however, logic was, and law was nothing if not logical. She mulled all of what was needed through her head as she made her way through the ship to the Ready Room. Other crew members seemed to return to their tasks and work a little harder when T’Penga passed. She conveyed a quiet calm and air of confidence. 

She arrived at the Ready Room and rang the chime. When allowed in T’Penga stepped before the desk. “You wanted to see me, Captain.”

Harris glanced up from the couch he had moved to and offered her a seat, “Looking through this is going to give me a headache.  There is certainly the Devore influence in the judicial rules and requirements – apparently, they don’t make it easy for the defendants in either quadrant.  There’s an incredible burden on us to prove the innocence of our crew.  There is a lot here that doesn’t mesh well with Federation laws and courts – most of it is the exact opposite in fact.”  He grumbled, “The charges are very broad – sedition, terrorism, intent to cause harm.  It reads like a list of suggestions.”

“My suggestion is to toss out everything you know about Federation courts. The crew is not being prosecuted in a Federation court, so none of that matters. As to the charges. Does it say what evidence if any that they have for the charges? I, too, have read the juror’s prudence of Devore, and just like a Federation court, they have to divulge all evidence to us prior to trial.” T’Penga simply stood there as she talked. She thought that this case would be a challenge and, in fact, welcomed it.

Ambrose tapped at his PADD, “If we had formal relationships with them or an embassy, we could use pressure to have our laws introduced as evidence, but given the involvement of the Devore…I don’t know how they’d react to that.”

“I have read Admiral Janeway’s logs from the USS Pioneer when they made contact with the Devore Imperium. The Devore are sticklers for procedure and protocol. That said, we have to find a protocol where we can introduce procedures to our benefit. Perhaps there is some precedent where they have dealt with people from outside the Imperium.” T’Penga cocked her head slightly as she spoke. It was something she always did when a part of her brain was lost in thought. Her hobby of anthropology would come into use here.

Harris continued to study the PADD, “Well, one difference is that Pantheon appears to be the only Devore on the planet – unless there are more hiding behind a hill or two…that suggests there is some tolerance…or something resembling a loyalty pledge…or even a way to check the loyalty of the people.  Devore are not a slacking or inattentive species – they’re like the robots of old – tenacious and unwavering in their mission.”  He contemplated, “We could always try to win the hearts and minds of the people around him – given how fast they trumped up the charges they probably didn’t get much of a chance to work to help the people.

“Agreed playing to emotions during a trial can work. But it is risky. What exactly did our people do that they are being charged? I believe a review of the prospective case from the prosecution would be prudent. Then we can prepare the appropriate defense. My other query is who will be our third?” T’Penga may have been getting ahead of herself; however, when legal matters were involved, one had to work quickly.

The CO handed over his PADD, “I’ve got two options.  Lieutenant Juliet Woodward, our chief counselor, is the first.  She’s a no-nonsense officer with a knack for reading people and understanding situations pretty well – and she won’t trip the empathic/telepathic alarms.  The other is our chief communications officer, Ensign Presley Atega.  Her linguistics and analysis skills have been a huge resource for us, and she has an eye for detail.  Take a look at their service jackets.”

T’Penga stood and studied each of the files in detail. Her eyebrow raised as she read the storied service records that she had come to expect from someone in Starfleet. Both did have merits toward assisting in the endeavor. Indeed the Captain had narrowed his choices down well. When she had finished, she handed the PADD back to her Captain and placed her hands behind her back.

Ambrose accepted the PADD, “Which do you think presents the best opportunity for success?”

“I would suggest Lieutenant Woodward. Logic would dictate that her training as a Counselor would allow her to read a person’s mannerisms and therefore know what is in their mind. This could be useful when evaluating the Devore and all that has to do with this case. In addition, her rank as a senior officer would show the Devore that you are giving this manner the respect that it deserves. Furthermore, we can employ Ensign Atega to evaluate the evidence here on the ship. It is there that her skills in analysis will come in useful.” She stood at attention and rattled off the information as someone may rattle off a list of their family members.

Harris noted, “I’ll bring her and Atega up to speed.”  He read through the details and stood, “We’re due to arrive tomorrow afternoon.  Study the case files on your own, and I’ll do the same.  We’ll meet for lunch before we arrive to discuss a final plan.”  He hesitated momentarily, “The possibility exists that this method of going through the courts may not succeed.  We may have to seek an alternative rescue plan if it fails.”

“I will sir…” T’penga said in reference to her studying the case files. “As to an alternate plan may I suggest security begin to plan a daring prison break.” If she meant that as a joke, there was absolutely no indication. In fact, the only movement was a raise of her left eyebrow.

Ambrose allowed a thin smile.  Vulcan humor was notoriously nonexistent or incredibly hard to detect.  “It’ll be daring, that will be for certain.  Until tomorrow.”  The assistant science chief departed, leaving Harris to contemplate the challenge ahead.  He remembered a phrase that was often put on Kirk and his contemporaries – ‘cowboy diplomacy’.  

“Yeehaw”, he muttered to himself as he returned to the case files.

Presley listened to the sentence again, her hands scrolling through the data stream as her eyes stared at the linguistical analysis on screen.  Language felt like math to her sometimes, and balancing out the equations pushed her to learn more and understand more.  She was most comfortable in the communications department, decoding and encoding channels while exploring languages.  There was plenty to monitor in their new operating theatre, and her team was getting better at working through the various layers that echoed across the sectors.

The office door flew open, and she glanced and stood in surprise as Captain Harris entered, his eyes meeting hers.  “Captain Harris, sir.”

He an assuring smile and slid into the seat next to her station, “Have a seat, Atega.”  She did and turned to him, curious as to why he’d come down to her department to talk.  He answered, “I wanted to talk with you about how you and your department can help.”  She nodded as he gave the run down of what he and the new assistant chief of science had brainstormed.

He stopped, and Presley asked, “Who will command the Mackenzie while you’re gone, sir?”

Ambrose slipped out a wooden box and set it on the console, “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Atega.”  He gestured to her rank pip, “You’ve been an ensign for nearly four years.”

She blushed, “I…uh, you know my history on my previous ship.  I couldn’t seem to get where I needed to go, sir.”  The truth was she’d flubbed the tests and the interviews, and her former CO had tried to work with her…but she’d come up short each time.  She eyed the box.

Her current CO leaned back in his chair, “I took you on because you wanted the next step in the journey.  I wanted you because you filled an empty slot in my growing group of experts.  Since October, you’ve come a long way.  The senior staff has accepted you, and your station on the bridge has become a consistent source of insight and knowledge.”  He slipped the wooden box into his hand and opened it, revealing full lieutenant rank pips.

Atega’s eyes widened, and she gasped, “Sir…I…what?”

He leaned forward, the box still in hand, “You’ve proven yourself under my command, Atega.  Three years and change seems like a long for an ensign not to see a promotion.  Stand up, please.”  He stood and grasped the pips.  She nervously followed suit and shakily waited, her breathing uneven.  “I hereby promote you to full lieutenant with all the rights and privileges pertaining thereto.”  He gently arranged the rank pips and stepped back, “Congratulations, Lieutenant Atega.” 

His hand extended, and she shook it, feeling her nerves jangling along with the motion.  “Thank you, sir.  I…I’m humbled.”

“Well, stay humble, Atega.  We’ve got a crew to save, and we’ll need your team’s expertise.  Model the way for them, Lieutenant.  You set the tone.”  As he departed, the door closed behind him, and Atega fell back to her chair, letting her shock fall out in a long sigh.  She brushed her fingers up against the new rank pips.

They felt like they belonged, just like her.

“You completed the Death Chant.  You honored your mother’s memory.  You prayed for her.  You have done everything that was asked of you, Ensign Athena.”

Athena Catari sat in the sanctuary of the Bajoran temple on Starbase 72, her heart not convinced.  “Then why do I still feel the sorrow over my mother’s passing, Prylar Tay?”  The young Bajoran sat crumpled within herself, dismay and fear crossing her face intermittently.  Her mother had passed after a long illness a month ago, and the posting to the Mackenzie had come in two weeks ago.

Tay Polata had lived many years and felt all ninety-five as he sat beside his charge.  He had known her family in the old days of Bajor during the occupation and had found his way into the Federation to help guide those far from home.  He shifted quietly in his seat, “I have learned many things in my life, Athena.  One such thing is that grief is a monstrous thing. It is not easily beaten, solved, or circumvented.  It holds onto us with an unholy grip.”  Polata turned to her and touched her shoulder, “We can only learn to battle with it and strengthen ourselves through open combat with it.”

Catari leaned into his shoulder and his embrace, “Do we even vanquish it, Prylar?”

“Do you mean, does it ever go away?”  She nodded, and he replied, “It is a monster we can learn to tame after a long war, but it will always be wild and unstable.  It is prone to reveal its true colors and attack without warning.”

“This does not give me the hope I needed, Tay.”  She felt her eyes well up and her heart tense at the emotions she was trying to control.

He held her close, “Hope is not a strategy, Athena.  You cannot activate it at your leisure.  It must be a part of you in every moment, hour, challenge, loss, and win – you must make it as much a part of you as your lungs or heart.  It is how your parents and family survived the occupation.  Hope as the air we breathed, the food we ate…it was if the entirety of our life was the hope itself.”

She scrunched up her nose, “That sounds…awfully hard, Prylar.”  She didn’t want to admit to him that his long rambling sermon had hit home and made more sense as he continued to speak.  She knew the stories of her mother and father’s fight to stay alive when the Cardassians held a knife to the planet’s throat.  It had been a constant topic as she’d grown and had increased after she’d decided to apply to Starfleet Academy just over four years ago.  They had been worried about her and the dangers she would face in the darkness of space.  Now only her father remained, and the loss of his wife had hit him hard.  She’d sent him a message earlier in the morning and still hadn’t received a response.  Her father was the most punctual and attentive man in the universe.  The space left by her mother had sent the balance of his life into a careening tailspin.

“It is hard, Athena.  It is part of this life we must live – to live is to bring glory and honor and to be a representation of the Prophets.  We are afforded the rest we need, but it is never permanent rest.”

She nodded, remembering his teachings, “You must keep in motion.  Life is determined by motion, by action – not by waiting or wasting time hoping for better.”  She sighed, “You are almost always right, Prylar Tay.”  She stood and checked her PADD.  A message was there urging her to report to the Mackenzie.

He feigned offense, “Almost always right?”

She stuck out her tongue and accepted his hug as he stood to wish her the best, “You can’t always be right.”

A chuckle as he rolled his eyes, “I can try pretty damn hard to be just that, Athena.  May the Pagh of your mother walk with you.”

She gave him a quiet bow and left the temple.  He turned back to the room and silently prayed for his young friend and the journey ahead.

Ensign Castillo tapped at the console as the USS Mackenzie dropped from warp, “We’ve arrived, Captain.  Engaging orbit.”  She kept one eye on the sensor scans scrolling across her console’s side.  The new assistant chief science officer had been making a name for herself on the journey here – she was an old Vulcan with a long life.  With most of the senior staff away, the feeling on the decks had been uneven at best.  To her captain’s credit he had been checking in with the various assistant chiefs.

“Thank you, Ensign.  Stations keeping for now.  Lieutenant T’Penga – what do we have down there?”

“It looks like they have been expecting us. There are many large cities on the northern continent. That also seems to be where the legal buildings are located. Scans indicate that they are equipped with standard planetary defenses and a whether control grid.” T’Penga reported as she looked over the data that scrolled on her console. More and more came in as she spoke. But she would have to sift through it and give a supplemental report.

As she finished her report, Atega spoke up.  “Captain, we have an incoming hail from the surface.”  He gave her a slight nod and sat forward in his chair.

The face of the Devore Imperium officer appeared, looking perpetually annoyed.  Harris didn’t react, opting for, “Good morning, Pantheon.  We’ve arrived at your request.”

The voice of the Devore was grave, unsettling Ambrose as he spoke, “The prosecution invoked a rare clause for a speedy trial.  They finished just hours ago.  Your crew has been found guilty on all counts and will face a firing squad in the morning.”  There was a smile tugging at the sides of the alien’s mouth.

Harris stood, infuriated, “This is unacceptable, Pantheon.  You cannot expect us to accept this.  There is an appeals process, from what I’ve read.  We will be requesting an immediate appeal.”

That was unexpected and something T’Penga had not even heard of. However, if it angered her, she did not show anything. All it served was for her to delve into the Devore legal code as quickly as possible. At the moment, she had to find something that would minimally stave off the execution.

Pantheon shrugged, “There is an appeals process, but the Supreme Court amended those clauses late yesterday afternoon to only allow citizens of the House of Pora to appeal, not foreign nationals or otherwise… foreigners.  You and your crew do not qualify for an appeal.”  He paused and stared at Harris, “You should know, Captain Harris, there are consequences for your actions against the Devore Imperium – here or in the Delta Quadrant.   I know of your and others’ interactions with my people back home.  Justice against outsiders is a supreme value with my people…and those I oversee here.”

Ambrose gritted his teeth, “You have to know we’re not going to allow you to murder our people.”

The Devore leaned into the camera, “It is not murder, Captain Harris.  It is justice.  They will be put to death for their crimes at 2000 today.  We will send you a live feed to your ship.  Good day.”  The channel closed.

As soon as the channel closed, T’Penga spoke up. “Sir, you should hail Pantheon again. I found a way for the execution to be staved off for a time at the very least. According to Imperative 26, Codicil 8 of Devore law. ”No member of a foreign race can be put to summary execution without a member of their species or government there at the time of sentence. That is unless the accused is a telepath. So the conviction is invalid by their own laws as no one from Starfleet was present when the verdict was passed. It seems that they are going to have to have the trial again. How does the human expression go? Use their own ammunition against them?”

Harris tapped at the console on his chair.  The assistant chief science officer was correct.  It was buried in the legal code, but it was there.  “Atega, let’s do this.”  Presley smiled and called the Devore back.  He appeared more annoyed.

“What do you want, Captain?”  Harris explained what T’Penga had found and had his communications officer send him the specific lines in the code that spoke to the requirements.  He stared at the screen and then muted his microphone as he turned to talk to someone in the room.

Ambrose motioned to Atega to do the same, “I think we might have hit their weak point.  Good work, Lieutenant T’Penga.”

T’Penga gave a curt nod in acceptance of the Captain’s words. She now knew something about her enemy that she did not know before. When logic is laid before them, they will back down. Her next thought is to keep looking through the code for something further that could help them. So, that was exactly what she did.

Atega signaled he was coming back.  Harris turned back to the screen as Pantheon seethed, “Your reading of the law is rudimentary, but our supreme court has reviewed the code of law and accepted the reading.  We will have the sentencing at 1800 hours and the presumptive execution at 2000 hours.  You will be allowed a brief conference with the crew not exceeding an hour.  We await your arrival.”  The channel snapped shut.

“That was close.  Atega, get T’saath and Tir back on board.  Signal Woodward to meet us in transporter room 1.”  He turned to his assistant science chief, “Let’s get to work.”

“Aye sir,” T’Penga replied. She quickly uploaded her notes to a PADD and followed the Captain into the turbolift. She still had not found anything further in the code, and she knew they were going to have to work fast in order to exonerate the crew. Her hope now was for the crew to relate the tale of what happened, and perhaps she will learn something there. Only time would tell, and time was of the essence..

The three officers from the Mackenzie were escorted through the cavernous hallways of the justice center for the large colony where the away team was being held.  Harris leading, T’Penga in the middle, and Woodward bringing up the rear.

T’Penga looked all around. She wanted to take everything or at least as much as she could. You never knew if you needed to know the layout for a quick escape. She also tried to get a feel for the guards that were around and how they were armed. The justice center may have been cavernous, but they were well appointed. She could tell that the Devore spared no expense when they set this place up. As such, she imagined that the security system would be equally as well appointed. “It seems that our crew members are being kept deep within the complex.”

The man leading them ignored their conversation as they walked.  Harris wondered what it would take to free his people from the Devore leader.

The further they walked through the justice center, the more T’Penga did not like it. Logic dictated that the farther they went, the least likely it would be to leave. Their weapons and scanning devices had been taken. She would have to assume that there would be a field that prevented transport as well. T’Penga began to wonder if it was time to put the needs of the many ahead of the needs of the few.

They neared the door, and the leader turned to them, “Captain Harris will come alone to meet with Leader Pantheon.

Ambrose frowned, “That wasn’t the original agreement.”

A shrug and, “The agreement has been changed.  This is the only way you get your people back.”

Woodward shook her lead, “I don’t like this, Captain.”

He agreed, “I don’t either.”  Harris turned to the newest of their crew.

“Well, then, the three of us are in agreement.” T’Penga turned to the guard. “Tell me, is Leader Pantheon in there alone and unarmed?”

The man huffed, “He is with his lieutenants as is the practice of our people.  They are armed at all times. They have no reason to use force unless a proportional response is needed.”

The Mackenzie CO sighed, “Look, if this is how we check a box to get our people home, let me see what he says.”

Juliet grumbled something about she still didn’t like it.

T’Penga cocked a typical Vulcan eyebrow in response. “Sir, the ship needs its Captain. The good of the many does outweigh the good of the few or the one. Perhaps it is time for you to leave.” She knew that he would not and would proceed into the room. However, she had to make it known that he shouldn’t go on.

Ambrose gave her a nod of thanks, “Your counsel is wise, lieutenant….but we need to get our people back.” He followed the man through the door into a throne room-looking chamber, jumping when the door lumbered and slammed shut behind him.  An elevated throne sat at the far end, and he could make out that Pantheon the Devore indeed sat on it.  A smattering of House of Pora authorities stood around and turned at the sound of his entrance.  He walked carefully, keeping his eyes forward and on the powerful figure ahead.  He was directed to a mark on the gnarled cement to stand, and he greeted the Devore from there, “Good morning, Pantheon.”

The Devore spat at the ground, “Captain Ambrose Harris of the Federation Starship Mackenzie.  I am surprised you accepted the invite without your escort.”

Harris stared at the man, wondering if his Chief Counselor had been right.  What had he walked into?  “I had hoped it would help our discussion regarding our crew.”

Pantheon chuckled darkly, “Oh, it was never about your crew, Captain Harris.  It was about you.”  He gestured to the gathered group, and someone stepped out and handed Ambrose a thick folder with tabs marking sections.  “You are charged under Devore Imperium Law according to the infractions you committed while in our space.  The penalty for such actions is death.”

Ambrose felt the blood drain from his face as the reality of what was happening dawned.  “That was in the Delta Quadrant.”

A shrug, “This colony has aligned with the Devore Imperium and, as such, has signed a charter to become the first Devore Imperium Colony here.  The laws of the Delta Quadrant now apply here and now to you.”

He looked through the pages and found the events of their experience in the Delta Quadrant clearly outlined, detailed, and explained regarding Devore Law.  “This cannot stand.  It won’t stand.”

Pantheon stood from the throne and vaunted the steps until he stood feet from Harris, “It doesn’t matter, Captain Harris.  Your fate was decided the moment your crew answered our call.  We knew where you had been reassigned and how much closer you became to the Devore’s long reach.  I’ve been promised a bounty upon completing this act of justice…and I will return home to a hero’s welcome.”  He sneered, “You will die today, and there is nothing you or your crew can do about it.”

Ambrose shook his head, “I never imagined I’d have to face the unfair and unconscionable justice of the Devore.  I thought I had put enough distance between us ever to have to worry about you again.”  He wished for a phaser or something to fight with for the first time in his command life.  The irony of this did not escape him.  His badge had been confiscated before entering the room.  “What will happen to the crew?”

Pantheon chuckled, “They will be released, returned to the shuttle, and allowed to leave.  They can never return to this place, or we will kill them.”  He gestured to a table filled with energy weapons, swords, and other implements of execution.  “Shall we choose the method?”

Harris glanced at the table, his stomach sinking under the tsunami of fear and terror.  He was going to die.  He stumbled forward and examined each weapon, his eyes filling with tears.  He pointed to the lethal disrupter on the end of the table, “That one.”  He wanted it to be quick.  He didn’t want to suffer…or for the crew to find him in a state that would scar them deeper than he knew they would be.

The Devore motioned for a guard to step over, “Charge the weapon and make it ready for use.”  He guided Harris back to the center circle in front of his throne.  “Stand here, please.”

Ambrose looked to the gathering, “Can you do nothing?  Can you not see…this?”

Pantheon laughed, “These are my most trusted lieutenants.  If the rest of them were here, you might have had a chance, Captain Harris…these are the true believers.  You cannot hope to dissuade them.  If I were feeling charitable, I would suggest you try.  But it would be foolish of you to have false hope.  There is no hope here.”  There was a smattering of laughter from the gathered figures, and Harris felt his last protest die in his throat.  The Devore would have their chunk of flesh.  His.

The guard handed the now humming weapon to Pantheon, who admired it, “What a classic.  One of the few older weapons still in use.”  He aimed the gun at Harris, “Any last words?”

Ambrose balled his hands into fists, “You will live to regret this.”

A last shrug from Pantheon, “I very much doubt it.”  He raised the weapon.

And fired.

Woodward paced and paced.  She wasn’t happy and had voiced her concerns to the guards outside the door, who had duly ignored her and the pacing.

T’Penga stood stoically with her hands behind her back, and she watched the Counselor pace. This was not logical to take the Captain in for a talk while they waited outside with no further instructions. “Counselor, in your professional opinion, is this normal given the situation?” Very often, Vulcans missed the point, and this was something that was not lost on T’Penga hence her question.

Juliet grumbled, “It’s just…doesn’t feel right.  So many things about this don’t make sense.”  She moved to speak but was interrupted by a loud guttural scream, a blast of a disrupter, and the sound of a body hitting the ground. Two more disrupter shots echoed before she tapped her badge, “Woodward to Mackensie – emergency security operation Tornado Tag!”

Her sharpened Vulcan hearing allowed T’Penga to ascertain exactly who produced that scream. She knew that what was about to happen would be futile; the Captain was already dead. And yet the Vulcan sidestepped one of the guards and deftly placed her hand at the base of his neck in the rear. The guard’s eyes closed, and he slumped to the floor, another victim of the Vulcan neck pinch. In the next moment, T’Penga would repeat the motion on the other guard at the opposite side of the door.

In seconds the lobby was filled with Starfleet Security officers, armed and looking to Woodward for orders.  “Take the door!” The other guards stared open-mouthed at the sudden action and dropped their weapons in shock as the gathered security group went to work on the door.  It took them ten seconds, and the door splintered and fell as the Starfleet contingent stormed the room.

T’Penga had been handed a phaser by one of the Starfleet Security Officers. She ran into the room with them and fired twice in quick succession. Two shots and two guards dropped into a stun. T’Penga could see the Captain on the ground with Pantheon standing over him. She made her way directly to them without hesitation. 

Pantheon looked up in shock, the disrupter in his hands, standing over the prone body of Ambrose Harris.  The sound of other transporters shimmering echoed from the lobby as more security, operations, and medical teams responded to the call.  Woodward saw the body of her CO and felt regret wash over her in the moment.  She pointed to Pantheon as the security officers swarmed the room, the loyal lieutenants putting their hands up and dropping weapons.  Pantheon was cuffed and restrained in seconds and led to where Woodward stood, her face filled with Fury, “You killed him.”

The once-confident Devore looked at the loyal lieutenants in shock, “How dare you betray me!  HOW DARE YOU!”

Security went to work cuffing all fifteen who hung their heads in shame and shock.  Woodward felt her counselor training going out the window as she stared at the body of her captain and then stared into the eyes of the panicked Devore, “You’re going to learn what justice means, Devore.  Get him out of here.” She knelt beside Harris, scanning him with a medical tricorder.   Juliet sighed as the screen verified it.  Captain Ambrose Harris was dead.

T’Penga did not have to look at the tricorder to confirm what she knew before she entered the room. “Lieutenant, we must finish the mission and get our crew. With their leader in our custody, the Devore Colony could go either way. They could capitulate and allow us to retrieve our people, or they could fight. There will be time to mourn when the mission is completed.”

Woodward scowled but didn’t speak right away.  She knew the assistant chief science officer was right but it didn’t help with the roiling emotions that pushed and pulled at her in the moment.  A few deep breaths and she called an operations officer over, “Ensure Captain Harris is secured and guarded from here on out at all times with an honor guard.”  The man nodded, and she turned to a security officer, “What’s the word on our people?”  He explained that one of the lieutenants had cracked and was guiding a security team to where the crew had been stashed.  She thanked him, her emotions still crashing beneath the nearly calm surface she was fighting to maintain.  She flagged down one of the team leaders, “Get the other lieutenants together.  Keep them in cuffs.  Let’s take them to the town center…gather the people.  They’re going to have to make a choice.  God help them if they make the wrong one.”  She motioned for T’Penga to follow, and they walked out of the room.

The bridge was empty save for Commander T’saath and the operations chief, Tir.  The news of the captain’s death spread quickly once the senior staff was briefed and counseled by Woodward.  They had requested another Federation ship be placed in their stead, and a replacement had arrived an hour ago, and the Mackenzie was underway back to Starbase 72.  The crew was meeting in small groups across the ship with Woodward and her counseling staff.  Additional counselors had been transferred from the replacement ship to assist.

Pantheon and his followers were to be transferred to Starfleet Security.  An investigation team was on the ground at the colony, conducting interviews and examining the scene.  T’saath was thankful the crew had not been tasked with such an endeavor.

Calog sat at his station.  His captain was dead.  He had known the man briefly but had come to appreciate his style and ways.  Now there was every question about what would happen next.  A senior staff meeting had been called for upon their return to Starbase 72.  He shifted in his chair.  His symbiont Tir had been unusually restrained, and they’d spoken quietly to each other once the news had been shared.  She’s been giving him vital comfort through their connection, and he was finding a renewed sense of purpose from their joining.

T’saath sat in the center chair, her arms gently resting on the arms.  Tir sat in the helm station, quietly working on the processes already moving into place at Starbase 72 and beyond.  The captain’s family had been notified, and the body would be transferred from 72 to a Harris Transport ship.  The two remained silent and worked at their stations as the Mackenzie thundered home, her captain at rest.

“Dr. Reid.  I’m so sorry.”  Captain Geronimo Fontana extended his hand, and Jordan gingerly shook it, sliding into the chair.  A messy collection of tissues was grasped in her right hand, and her eyes were red and still filled to the brim with tears.

“Thank you, Captain Fontana.”  She fought the sobs, “I know you said I should wait, but I needed to do this quickly.”  She pulled off her communications badge and slipped it into his hands.  With a deep sigh, she removed her rank pips from her collar and did the same into his hands.  “I cannot do this.  I’m resigning immediately.”  She held up her hand, trembling.  “I can’t stay here.  It reminds me of him and us.  I need to get him home and help put him to rest with his family.”  She sniffled and wiped tears from her eyes, “I don’t think I’ll ever be back, Captain Fontana.  Fill my position, please.”  She stood from the chair and sobbed before burying her face in the tissues.  He approached her and placed his hand on her shoulder.

“I’m not going to stop you, Jordan.  The door is always open if you need it.”

She glanced at him with a weak smile, “That means a lot, Captain Fontana.  Thank you.”  She touched his hand briefly and departed out the door and into the corridor.  He stared at the door, the weight of the loss of one of his officers weighing down on his heart.  He returned to his desk and sat, reflecting in the silence.

Rachel Harris stood at the dock, dressed in black.  Her daughter, Natalie, was similarly outfitted.  Several staff members were standing at attention, waiting for the transfer of the body.  The news had come as a shock, and she held her daughter’s hand firmly as they stood patiently. She had never imagined having to bury her son, and her anger increased at the Devore Imperium’s actions.  They had played a long game, taking advantage of her son’s loyalty to his crew.  She knew Ambrose had ignored the security parameters for the away mission.  She also knew his senior officer in charge of such matters had been captured, and his advice had not been there in the critical moment it was needed.

Ambrose Harris, her son, was dead.  His girlfriend walked carefully with the coffin towards them, her eyes filled with emotional anguish over her loss.  Rachel placed her hand on the container and quietly spoke to her son.  A moment later, she waved it on and embraced Jordan.  No words were exchanged.  None were needed.  The grief and loss united them in silence.  They all walked slowly onboard the ship and sat down, surrounding the coffin as the door groaned closed and shuddered shut.

“Captain Walton.”

“Captain Fontana.”

Wren Walton stood at mild attention, hands clasped behind her back.  Geronimo sat at his desk, reviewing the PADD.  He would glance at the data in front of him, back at her, and then back to the device.  Finally, he leaned back in his chair, “You can sit down, captain.”

She hesitated momentarily and then, with a sigh, sat down, “I’m not sure why you sent for me, sir.”

He placed the PADD on his desk and leaned forward, “You’ve been one of our problem solvers for the better part of…what, fifteen years?”  She tilted her head in acknowledgment.  She had been used as an instrument of change over the years – first as a Chief Operation Officer, then as Executive Officer, and finally, in the last two years, as Captain.  It had been exciting to be placed in short-term assignments.  Her talent for finding the issues on ships had become a skill, and her knack for working with just about everyone had cemented her usefulness to Starfleet Command.  Fontana asked, “Why did you request for a long-term posting?”

“I’m tired of wanderin’.”  She leaned back in her chair, searching the ceiling, “I’m 40 years old, sir.  I’ve seen ships, stations, and space from Alpha Quadrant to Delta Quadrant…it’s time to find a home.” She returned her gaze to the Task Force XO, “I’ve still got plenty to offer the fleet…I jus’ want to be with one girl for a while.”  She chuckled at his raised eyebrows, “I forget – you’re medical branch.  You know how engineers an’ operations officers talk about their ships sometimes.”

Fontana moved on, “I don’t know if you have heard…but we lost a captain yesterday.”

“I had.  I hadn’t met him but heard a little about him.  He sounded like a good officer.”

“He was.  A good man as well.”  He swallowed in an attempt to keep his emotions at bay.  He’d served with Ambrose and had been a one-time nemesis turned friend and eventual commanding officer.  “We’re taking the Mackenzie senior staff off duty.  We’ve offered a similar deal to the crew.  We’ve identified you as her next CO, Captain Walton.”

“You seem to think I’m going to accept this deal at face value, Captain Fontana.”  She stared him down and did not seem pleased with his offer.

He caught the glare and paused to think of his next words, “Your name is at the top of my list, Captain Walton.  Your record speaks for itself – a solid commanding officer who can work with anyone and everyone…those are the exact words from several of your evaluations.”  He sighed, “We need someone who can step into a terrible situation and make the best of it.  We need the Mackenzie.”

She considered his offer.  On the one hand, it would be a tough assignment to wade into a previous captain’s culture and command style.  On the other hand, it was an Excelsior II class. “I have conditions,” she offered.  He indicated for her to continue, “You said you’re transferring the senior staff?  I want to be able to pick my own.”

“I can agree to that.  What else?”

She regarded him in a lull in the conversation.  “You’re being unusually willing to accept my demands, Captain.”

Fontana allowed a small smile, “You need this as much as I need this, Captain Walton.  Together, I think we can help solve some of our troubles.”

The bridge of the Mackenzie was quiet.  She strolled from chair to chair, her eyes searching the command center as the ambient sound of the stations sang a discordant orchestra.  She studied each console until she arrived at the center chair.  It was a standard chair, but it was more than that.  It was the center chair.  Only two people had held that chair in the history of the Mackenzie.  And one of them was dead.  She glanced up as the door to the bridge opened, and an officer in yellow stepped through and glanced up in surprise, “Oh…captain.  I wasn’t…sure if you would be aboard yet.”  Her face blushed red, and her eyes held the tell tail signs of recent tears.

Wren gave a friendly but restrained smile, “I’m Captain Wren Walton…but you can just call me Captain Wren.  Lot shorter that way.  You must be….”

The woman returned the restrained smile, but hers was filled with nervous energy as she introduced herself, “Chief Engineer Okada Katsumi, commander, ma’am.”

The new CO shook her head, “Ma’am is for when I’m dressing an officer down, Chief Katsumi.  Captain will do fine any other time.”  She looked around the bridge, “I couldn’t help but notice you were one of the few who expressed a desire to stay aboard.”  It was unsurprising to see the list of the senior crew who had requested a different assignment together.  They had bonded with Harris and grown together as a team.

Katsumi pursed her lips.  It wasn’t that Harris didn’t mean anything to her.  He had sought her out on Starbase Bravo and pulled her out of an extended career funk.  He had given her a new life on the Eddie and now the Mack.  “I’m not sure Captain Harris would want me to give up on this girl, you know?”

Wren’s smile widened slightly, “I was an operations chief before I got in the command track.  I said the same thing to Captain Fontana yesterday, and he looked amused when I spoke about ships like that.”

Okada felt her face redden again, “We didn’t get along at first when he came aboard the Eddie…but we found our way.  He didn’t fully understand me either, captain.  Not a lot of people do.”

Walton appraised the engineer through a different lens.  Harris had chosen Okada for a reason, and it was becoming more evident and more apparent why.  “Well, I understand you, Chief.  I heard there’s a service on the station later this afternoon.”

Katsumi confirmed, “1400. Most of the crew will be there.  Juliet is making arrangements.  I should probably help her.”  She turned to leave, “You’re welcome to come and attend, captain.  We were always an open and accepting family here with Captain Harris…I don’t think he’d mind.”  Her eyes threatened to flood again, and she gave a quiet wave as she departed the bridge, sniffling.  The door closed, and Wren returned her eyes to the bridge.

She whispered out loud, “Open and accepting family.”  She now knew one of her goals once she had her crew.  Carrying on that element of the Mackenzie culture…that mattered.  She looked around before heading for the ready room, her heart heavy with what lay ahead.

The gathered crew of The USS Mackenzie sat quietly and together.  They had each lost a piece of themselves with the death of Captain Harris.  Some had served with him on the Raven Class Erigone, while others had become a part of something greater on the Edinburgh…and all had found their place on the Mack.  The opening invocation was underway, given by Woodward, the Chief Counselor.  The various departments sat together, and the senior staff scattered throughout the room to comfort their officers and friends.  Juliet finished her speech and yielded the stage to a looming Cardassian figure.

“I am in shock, as most of you are.  The Federation has never asked me to speak at a funeral.  I consider it a high honor to stand here among you.”  He glanced at his notes, “I met Captain Harris when he was a Commander – he came to my colony in search of information.  He approached me not as an enemy or antagonist…but as a possible ally in whatever events had brought us together.  I will remember how he spoke to me…in that, he was wholly dedicated to understanding and relating to me as no Federation officer had before.”  He paused, his emotions surging in his memories.  He began, “I met him again as Captain Harris, and his grace and warmth were no less diminished.  In some ways, he had grown brighter in that regard.”  He gestured to the gathered crew, “He made sure you accepted me in the ways you could.  I do not recall a caste glance or a whispered muttering among you as I walked your hallways and worked in your world.  It is a credit to your captain that you are the way you are – there is no greater honor to see the efforts of a captain help mold his crew.”  He shuffled his notes, “Thank you, Captain Harris.  You have given me hope for a future yet to come.”  He stepped down and found his seat.

Prentice shakily stood and walked to the lecture, his PADD in hand.  He grasped the wooden podium as if it was a life raft in the rolling waves of his feelings.  He cleared his throat and took a slow sip of water.  He started, “I’m the only officer to have known Cap…Ambrose the longest, besides Dr. Reid.  He chose me to be his flight officer when he had no good reason to – I had several black spots on my record and was in a bad place.  He took me on with the Erigone, kept me around when we moved to the Edinburgh…and even brought me along to the Mackenzie.”  Prentice breathed deeply, “He was there for me when I needed him.  He made a house call to my quarters after a challenging day.”  He glanced into the audience and caught the eye of his assistant chief, who gave him an encouraging nod.  He returned to his notes, “He believed in me each step of the way.  He called me out when I wasn’t flying right and gently put me back on track.  In the short time under…Ambrose’s command made me understand what being a Starfleet officer meant the more I worked with him.  I found I wanted to get better at being a great flight officer because I was finding joy and satisfaction there…and my old ways weren’t bringing me that same thing.  Captain Harris gave me a chance to be who I needed to be…not what I wanted to be.  On the way, those two things… kind of became the same thing.”  He paused and looked out into the crowd, his eyes filling with tears, “Thank you, Captain Harris.”  He gathered his heart and returned to his seat.

The Voth vaunted the stage carefully without much skill and scampered to the podium.  He looked around the room, feeling the pressure of the gathering.  He tapped gently at the PADD before him and began, “Friend.  It is what he started as when he came upon me in the Delta Quadrant.  In time, I became a part of his family.  His mother welcomed me and taught me how to drive.”  There was scattered laughter in the crowd, and he chuckled, “So you have heard my driving story. I am getting better, but that, as the humans say, is currently a sliding scale.”  More chuckles in the audience, and Cardamon gave a bow.  He continued, “I did not expect him to help me or give me a chance when I asked to join him.  I imagined he, like most of the tales about the Federation, would brush me aside and curse my family or me or both.”  More scattered chuckles.  “But that is not how this story ended.  I found friendship in Captain Harris and his crew.  I found…community and warmth I had not felt in many years.  I found…my home.”  He held his emotions in check, but his voice noticeably quivered as he spoke, “He stood up for me when he could have just sent me home where I would have been…the human word is miserable, but it fails to capture the Vol experience.”  He thought momentarily, “The word was ‘nightmare’ – a waking nightmare.  But he didn’t.  He saved me and brought me to his home…, and it is a place I have found the things I have been seeking all my life.  The Captain did this for me.  I wish I could tell him all of this….but they tell me this is part of the process of loss.  I must find a way to tell him to help…get through this process.”  He looked into the audience, “I know you must feel something similar.  I suppose the more we tell others about him…the more we share the good he brought to us… the more good may come from his memory and life.”  There were noticeable sniffles as tissues were passed around.  He looked out amongst the crowd, “I give my thanks to Captain Ambrose Harris of the Federation.  Without him, I would not be here today.  I will not give up sharing you with the universe, Captain.”  He slowly returned to his seat, dabbing at his eyes.

Okada made her way to the podium and cleared her throat, “Most of the senior staff chose not to speak today.  I volunteered to speak for them, but I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to hold it together.  It is…such a hard thing to lose a captain like we lost Captain Harris.”  She took a sip of water and pushed forward, “Each of us has our story of how we came to be a part of his crew.  Reid came to him as the second member of the Erigone crew, and Prentice followed.  Most of us joined on the Edinburgh, with the rest on Mackenzie.  I was a lost engineering officer when he found me.  I’d passed promotions up and decided I would live the rest of my life on Starbase Bravo.”  She smiled, feeling the bright memories pulling at the dark curtain across her mind’s stage, “He conspired with my supervisor to get my application in the door…and turning down Captain Harris was hard.”  Her smile held as she continued, “Serving with him…was something unique.  You were seen…you were known…you were almost…loved.  He cared to know your favorite drink and meal…he would surprise you with a dinner with friends or drinks in the lounge on your birthday. As busy as he was…he never forgot you or those under you.”  She turned the page in her notes, “The senior staff wanted to say that we thought we’d get to serve with him forever – as it felt like there was no end to the journeys we could have with him on whatever ship he commanded.  That it hurts more than words can express to attempt to accept that that dream will never become a reality.  You each have memories of him.  You hoped what might become of this crew, this ship, and the future.”  She took another sip, holding her heart just below her throat, “We all hurt today.  We are gathered in grief, sadness, mourning, and loss.  Everybody hurts today.  None of us are alone .”  A last pause, “We’re wounded, but not beaten.  It will take time to heal, and we will find the strength to move forward.  Yet, we will never forget our first captain, Ambrose Harris.”  

She closed the PADD and looked out among the crew, “To absent friends.  To those we knew, to those we loved, to those we remember, to those we watch over, and to those we will never forget…may their memory be a blessing…and may their legacy live on in us with each new day.  To absent friends.”

The gathered group replied soundly, “To absent friends.”

“You didn’t hesitate to get back to me.”  Wren Walton sat in her new ready room, leaning back on the couch and staring out the windows at the interior of Starbase 72.  Her old friend, Park Seoyeon, was at the replicator getting her dose of coffee, a wry smile on her face as she listened.

She sat opposite the captain and sipped, “I wasn’t getting anywhere with that idiot.”

Wren chuckled, “That’s no way to talk about your commanding officer.”

“How does that old expression go…pot calling the kettle black?”

Walton rolled her eyes dramatically, “We were talking about you, not me.  How much yelling did you do?”

Park winced, “A little too much.  My discipline report doesn’t put me in the best light.”

Wren held up the PADD she’d been reading, “You remember anything I tried to teach you?  This reads like you didn’t learn a damn thing, Park!”  She raised her eyebrows at the woman.

The commander sighed, “I’m sorry, Wren.  I tried.”  She felt the stare from her friend and mentor intensify.  She relented, “OK, I didn’t try hard enough.  It’s just…he’s such an idiot!”  She fell back into the couch, knowing what was coming her way.

“You can’t break protocol or professional standards just because you think someone’s an idiot, Park. You have to have reasons…evidence…a trail of details explaining why they’re an idiot.  You had none of that.”  She tossed the PADD on the couch, “You’re lucky I have a position.”

Park pouted weakly, “I don’t want your pity.”

Wren scoffed, “Reality check, commander…you need it.  If I don’t take you on as my last project, they’re talking about sending you back to command school for remedial training…for a full year.  You may not want my pity, but you need it.  Otherwise, you won’t step foot on a starship for a long time.”

Seoyeon chewed on her bottom lip.  She’d met Wren two years previous on her former command. She lacked some impulse control, and it had come to bear when she’d been promoted to executive officer from chief science officer.  Her captain hadn’t been willing to put up with it, and Wren had come onboard to assist.  “I don’t like admitting when I’m wrong, Wren.”

Walton shook her head, “You’re going to have to start learning with me how to do just that, Park.  The Mackenzie is a big ship with a big crew.  This isn’t a Rhode Island or an Intrepid class ship.  You’re in the deep end of the pool, and we’re gonna have to teach you how to swim damned fast.”  She sipped at her coffee, “Think you can do that?”

Park studied her fingers briefly before she glanced up, “I can, Wren, if you’ll help me.”

The captain of the Mackenzie stood, “Push, pull, or drag, commander.  Welcome aboard the Mackenzie.”  She held out her hand, and the younger accepted as her CO pulled her up and embraced her lightly, “Don’t screw it up.” 

“She didn’t say much.”  The Mackenzie’s assistant chief medical officer leaned on a biobed while his charge nurse, Hiro stood beside him, reading through her PADD on the senior staff changes.  Most of the Mackenzie crew had put in for transfers.  Hiro listened to her sensei’s response to her query about their former chief, Jordan Reid.

“It says here she has resigned her position and rank…and does not intend to return, Doctor Longfellow.”  Asato Hiro wasn’t sure what was happening.  The loss of their captain was a shared grief, and others carried the burden harder than others.  She had rarely met him and found herself exceedingly distant from the senior staff.  Her sensei’s attitude since coming aboard hadn’t helped matters.  They were tied together by history.  She was one of the few friends he had left in the universe.  The truth was she believed her destiny was tied to him, and since stepping aboard Mackenzie with him, she had been convinced further.  She wasn’t sure what that destiny was in the end or how long or short her life would be in the company of Henry Longfellow.  All she knew was their bond had grown stronger.  She wasn’t going to be letting go of him anytime soon.

Henry examined the ceiling, a myriad of feelings battling around inside him.  Whoever they found to replace Doctor Reid would require time to get used to – almost a shakedown cruise of sickbay was just over the horizon.  He wasn’t looking forward to any of it.  “At least they’re letting us stay here.  I didn’t want to become the stray doctor that wandered from place to place.”  Hiro moved to respond but turned as the main door to sickbay slid open, and an energetic middle-aged woman in captain pips strode in, searching the room and settling on the two of them.  

She made her way over and extended her hand to each, “Captain Wren Walton, new CO of the Mackenzie.”  Longfellow returned the favor, and Hiro did the same as they shook her hand.  “Neither of you put in for a transfer.”  She eyed them both, dispensing with subtly.

Hiro answered, “We…did not know Captain Harris very well, and our arrival onboard was late.”

Wren looked to Longfellow, who gave a resigned nod.  “Doctor Reid recruited us.”

“And she’s resigned her position and rank, leaving you….”

Henry sighed and finished the thought, “Wondering who they were going to find to replace her.”

The new captain grinned wide, “Well, never you mind that, Doctor Longfellow.  I wandered on down here to offer you the gig.  You’ve been a chief before and figured you’d fit in those boots again.”

Hiro turned, a small smile on her lips, and she frowned at her mentor’s reaction.  He did not appear thrilled.  “You read my file?  You sure this is the best thing?”

Wren regarded him silently for a moment, almost taking him in for the second time since she’d walked into the room.  “Doctor Reid chose you for a reason, Lieutenant.  Reading her files, her logs, and everything she left behind – she was intentional in many of the things she did around here.  Getting you in the door was a big part of her priority list.  You’re supposed to be here, Doctor Longfellow.  I’m confident you’re the man for the job.”  She leaned over to Hiro, “You two were a package deal.  She left instructions not to break you two apart.  I need a sickbay I can trust and lean on when the time comes.  It’s your house now, Doctor.  Make it your own.”

She left sickbay, and Hiro turned to her sensei, who wasn’t sure what to say about what Captain Walton had said.  Were they right?  Did he belong here?  Was this his new home?  He pushed off the biobed, “Well, let’s get to work.”

The transition of staff had been going on most of the day.  Catari had easily found her way around the ship most of the morning.  It had taken her some time to find the senior staff and bridge crew lounge, even if it was just off the bridge on deck 1.  Walking in, she was amazed – it was a good-sized mess hall.  An officer stood at the bar working through as PADD, glancing up when she entered.  “What can I get for you?”

“Just a ginger ale with lime.  I didn’t expect you to be open with all the shifting around.”

As he started the order, the man chuckled, “We’re always open, Ensign Catari.  There’s Rebecca and me up here and Tennessee down in the main crew mess with Paul and Georgina backing her up. There are about ten total food service crew on the Mackenzie.  I’m Jack Rockwell.”

She watched him continue working, “You know my name?”

Rockwell smiled, keeping his eyes on the drink he was crafting, “Up here, we’re required to – we memorize the senior staff and bridge crew.  Rank, names, drink preferences, dishes you like – you like to talk or be left alone…that kind of thing.”  He placed the drink down on the bar with a napkin underneath it, “Come, sit.  I’m sure some others will wander around.” Catari hesitantly sat down at the bar and sipped at her drink.  True to Rockwell’s prediction, a moment later, the door opened.

Gabriela Castillo was confused.  She had not expected her chief to request a transfer nor expected the next move of the new CO of the Mackenzie to promote her to his position.  It had been a whirlwind few days while she had struggled with the decision to remain on the Excelsior II class starship.  It was her first assignment, and she’d been arguing with herself over the choice to stay and go.  Prentice had already left the ship and headed off with nothing more than a ‘good luck.’  She had walked around the ship listlessly until she decided to find her way to the lounge down the hall from the bridge. Castillo entered and found two faces turning to face her.  

“Afternoon Ensign Castillo – what’ll ya have?”  The man at the bar motioned her over, and she plopped down next to another ensign.  She asked for a lemonade and let out a long sigh.

Catari leaned over, “Ensign Atari, new chief tactical/security.  You sound like I feel.”

Gabriela snorted, “It has been a confusing as hell couple of days.”  She accepted the glass, taking a long sip before continuing, “I’m in charge of the department now, and I’m still trying to figure out if I want to stay.”  Another sip, and she grumbled, “It just doesn’t feel…good, you know?”

Athena clinked her glass with her new friend, “You’re speaking my language.”  They lapsed into silence until the door opened again.

A man in a teal uniform stepped into the lounge area,  a PADD in hand as he glanced around the room, ignoring the three at the bar. He loped around the room slowly, tapping at the device while examining tables, chairs, and the walls. Catari turned to Rockwell with a curious glance.  He nodded toward the man, “That’s our new chief counselor, Lieutenant Mo Guowei.”  They all lapsed into rapt silence, watching him as he moved from table to table and eventually ending up walking back and forth in front of the bar, taking notes and frowning.

Catari gave up waiting, “Pardon me, lieutenant…what are you doing?”  She tried to make it sound as warm as she could.  He glanced up and seemed to see them all for the first time.  

“I’m examining areas on the ship for events, gatherings, and the like.  I understand my predecessor was big into events and things like that.”  He held up his PADD with a slight grimace, “I’m a planner.  Details are a big part of my life, so I tend to…really plan a lot.”

Rockwell held up a glass, “Places need planners, lieutenant.  What’ll ya have?”  He ordered a Shirley Temple and slid onto a bar stool, tapping at his PADD as he waited.

He turned to the others, “I was thinking of having some kind of a concert party with a BBQ theme.  Find a classic artist to create the ultimate festival-like thing.”  Castillo and Catari nodded, and Rockwell shrugged.  Guowei drained his drink and hopped off the stool, “Well, that’s great.  I appreciate your help.”  He walked off, muttering and tapping into his PADD as he left the lounge.

Both ensigns turned to each other and then to Rockwell, who chuckled, “It’s a new crew…there’s going to be a learning curve with everyone…starting today.  You both best figure out how to work with people if that offends you.  The Mackenzie’s still gotta work with who we got.”  Both women quietly sipped at their drinks.  They had been called out and were content to ice their egos at the bar.

T’saath sat in a pew in the middle of the temple, her focus wavering.  Captain Harris was dead, and she had not been at his side.  She had returned to the Mackenzie and briefly met the new assistant chief science officer, another Vulcan, in passing as they headed to the planet.  She had failed as the executive officer.  There was no excuse for what had happened.  She had long known her CO’s weaknesses but had not been there to advise against them.  Now, she had lost a captain and possibly her career.  Logically she had not fulfilled her duties.  Instead, she stood by while a Devore Imperium officer murdered Captain Ambrose Harris.  She attempted to focus once more.

It had been a long time since T’Penga had been to a Vulcan temple. Being on extended missions in space does not lend itself to getting to a temple. As such, she decided to take advantage of the temple at Starbase 72. She needed to meditate and reflect on her witnessing of the death of Captain Ambrose Harris. T’Penga decided to wear a Vulcan robe that indicated her attainment of Kolinahr as opposed to her uniform. 

For the time of day, T’Penga expected the temple to be empty; however, it was logical that Commander T’saath, the Executive Officer of the Mackenzie, would be there. T’Penga glided up to where the woman sat and tented her fingers about her waist. She cocked an eyebrow. “Commander, may I join you?”

The younger Vulcan looked up and nodded quietly, “Company would be welcome, Lieutenant.”  She shifted over and resumed her staring contest with the front of the temple.  She was silent for a time before speaking again, “Have you ever lost a commanding officer?”

T’Penga sat and braced herself mentally for any emotional outbursts that may come from the Commander. Not everyone had purged all emotions. She answered the question without turning from the front of the temple. “Indeed I have Commander. I believe it comes with the profession we have chosen. Does it not?”

T’saath wrestled with the next part of her question. She was young in comparison, and while her emotional control was well in hand, the experience of loss was not familiar.  It had been a part of her emotional control training, and she had indeed read, studied, and thought about it plenty.  But the experience was something she was not prepared to handle.  “Yes, it comes with the profession we have chosen – that is the logical perspective to adopt and the path to follow.”  She played with her hands nervously and felt her embarrassment at the fraying of the edges of her control in view of another Vulcan.  “And yet…,” she turned to the veteran, “There is an escapable weight I feel pressing upon me.  The failure to protect my captain, to ensure his safe return…my position as executive officer is marked by my failure.”

T’Penga nodded as the events replayed in her mind. She, too, thought that her logic had failed the Captain. However, she also knew the path of logic that the Captain walked. “Commander, as you are no doubt aware, logic dictates that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one. If we continue down that path of logic, we, as Vulcans, can understand why the Captain did what he did. For he knew that logical axiom and followed it to its conclusion. You were left in command of the ship as the ship needed a capable commander. I pointed out to the Captain that he should have left moments before he walked into that room and to his death. However, he disagreed and continued into the room. For he knew that the needs of the confined crew came before him.” T’Penga paused and stared at the front of the temple pensively as she pondered what she said and how she would proceed. “Logic does not fail, and therefore you have not failed. What you are feeling is loss, and it is normal. As you are aware, we Vulcans do feel emotions. We just choose to suppress them for the pursuit of logic. If you wish to experience this emotion, then that is your choice. You may also choose to suppress it and that I can help you with.”

The Vulcan XO let out a rare sigh, “Your argument is logical, T’Penga.”  She used her first name as her usual defenses dissolved, her eyes searching the walls of the ornate temple, “But something has shifted in me.  I have…I am having trouble controlling the feeling of loss…and I am unsure if I wish to restrain it.”  She leaned back against the pew, “I do not think I can continue in my role within Starfleet and the Mackenzie.”

“Sometimes a break from this life of ours is warranted. Perhaps you should return to Vulcan and seek the guidance of the High Priestess. For she may be able to set this right for you. Who knows in due time you may decide to pursue Kolinahr and then return to the fleet. I, myself have been away from the fleet for a time and then returned. This is nothing that Starfleet is not accustomed to. However, I would caution you that you make sure this is the right decision for you. For the Mackenzie needs an Executive Officer, one that knows the ship and the crew. Remember the needs of the many….” T’Penga thought for a moment then turned to face T’saath. “T’saath should you choose to remain aboard the Mackenzie. I will guide you through this sense of loss. I will assist you in any and all ways possible.”

The younger Vulcan swallowed the array of emotions that were washing over her with the tides of feeling.  T’saath leaned back in the pew, her face breaking with a look of sadness, “I have often thought of myself as a strong Vulcan…that my journey had given me strength enough to continue without experiencing such pain…such sorrow that I had felt in my younger days.”  She held out her hands before her, “There is a children’s story that was told to me when I was younger…of a Vulcan who battled The Darkness…who used his strength to push back against it…but in the end failed.”  She flexed her hands, “In the end as the darkness consumes the last bits of the world around him, the man looks at his hands and reflects on how they are strong hands…but not strong enough.”  She looked up to T’Penga, “My hands are strong…but they are not enough…and I fear even with your knowledge of the ages…you may not be enough to hold back the darkness that shrouds my spirit.”  She stood, haltingly, “I must return to Vulcan…and seek out the light of life.”  T’saath let out another rare sigh, “Thank you for your words, T’Penga.  I will look forward to our next meeting – wherever that may be.”

“Your hand alone may not be strong enough. However, with assistance anything is possible. I would very much want to converse again as you said whenever that may be.” T’Penga turned to T’saath not with a look of disdain that some Vulcan’s may have at the sight of such emotion. However, T’Penga looked as a teacher would look on a student as they began the path of enlightenment. T’Penga extended her hand in the Vulcan salute. “Live long and prosper T’saath.”

The commander returned the gesture, “Peace and long life to you.”  She took one last glance at the temple and walked slowly down the long walkway and out the door into the noisy corridor, leaving T’Penga in her thoughts.

T’Penga turned toward the front of the temple and reflected not only on the events involving the Captain but the conversation that just took place. She realized that she had been wrong all these years. T’Penga thought that she was at the end of her path. However, after this conversation she realized that she was in the middle whereas T’saath had just begun. T’Penga had so much more to learn.