She had to give Oakland this much credit- the XO’s quarters were fairly nice. The old utility cruiser might not be much to look at, less akin to a starship and more so a six-year-old’s arts and crafts project made out of a paper plate and a bunch of popsicle sticks, but at least she was decently sized and fairly spacious. Charlie’s quarters were barely decorated- after all, she still wasn’t sure if she’d stay long or request a transfer- but even being relatively spartan, it was still a comfortable space. Bookshelves and cabinets, a quaint little drawer, shelves on the walls- all bare, currently. A sizable, comfortable bed with a white literal mound of blankets atop it. Said blanket mound subtly rose and fell, likely deep in dreams of glory and fame aboard a ship significantly more important than a cranky old California-class –

-and then her commbadge went off with a chittering that yanked Charlotte MacColgan out of her sleep with all the shock of a cold bucket of water being tossed at her face. She blinked the grogginess out of her eyes, trying to batten down her frizzy halo of tight curly hair, somewhat vainly hoping it’d been a figment of her imagination.

It was not. The commbadge chittered again, buzzing against her nightstand. A groggy hand reached over to tap it. “… ugh… M’Colgan ‘ere,” she slurred, her head swaying slightly as she struggled to keep it upright.

“Commander, this is Captain Maising. Report to the ready room as soon as possible. We have a situation on our hands.”

Now that got her to perk up a little. Bleary eyes opened just a little wider. “A sit’y’ation, sir?”

“I’ll tell you more when you get here, MacColgan. Be quick.”

“Aye aye, sir.” The comm closed, leaving a half-asleep Charlie staring at the wall, rubbing a hand down her face. What the hell counted as a “situation” on a Cali?

She didn’t take much time to clean up- more or less threw some cold water on her face, brushed her teeth, haphazardly threw on her uniform, replicated a covered cup of coffee, and then made off for the captain’s ready room. Charlie gave up on her hair the moment she looked at herself in the mirror. Thus, she was not exactly the epitome of professionalism once she stepped into the ready room, with bags under her eyes she could carry groceries in, a wrinkled uniform with the jacket open, and a frizzy tight-packed halo of curly bedhead hair giving her more the impression of an electrocuted Chihuahua.

Thank God Maising was a laid-back sort of captain. A hearty chuckle left the more well-kept man’s mouth, though the grin didn’t quite reach his eyes. Something was definitely weighing heavily on his mind. He gestured to a nearby seat with a hand. “Apologies for waking you up, Commander, but this isn’t something that should wait.”

And into that seat did Charlie drop like a sack of potatoes, the chair creaking under her weight despite her small stature. She took a looooooong gulp of her coffee, without coming up to breathe, before even attempting to reply. “’s no problem, Cap’n. Shite his th’ fan ‘n sleep’s thrown ou’tha window, I get it.”

“True indeed.” She didn’t come here to shoot the breeze, unfortunately, and neither had Maising. Any pretense of a smile faded from his face as he grabbed a nearby PADD. “We’re currently not far from the Rolor Nebula- a small but resource-rich Class Six nebula some twelve thousand years old. Both Starfleet and the civilian sector have been surveying it for years, soaking up as much information as they can about it.”

The PADD slid across the table to her, and she picked it up, squinting at the display shown. A civilian vessel- RV Rain Runner, hullcode NAR-83629. Former history- “Is this a bloody Oberth?”

“Indeed. Formerly USS Brahe, NCC-59322. Decommissioned Oberths have been flooding the civilian science vessel market ever since the 2350s, especially now that the entire class has been removed from service.” Maising leaned back slightly in his own chair, a hand rubbing his chin through his salt-and-pepper beard. “Rain Runner has been serving a civilian research group, the Supernova Catalogue Project based in Alpha Centauri, for the past thirty-odd years. According to their site, they’re a group hoping to catalogue, study, and theorize every supernova remnant in the Alpha and Beta Quadrants, putting together a comprehensive timeline of large star explosions in this part of the galaxy. She arrived in the Thomar Expanse two weeks ago, intending to spend a month or so studying the Rolor Nebula.”

Charlie wanted to counter with a cocky, blindly-hopeful “but they’re here for a month, so what’s the big deal?”, but she knew better than that. Nothing good could be coming from this. “What’s the issue?”

“Due to the… volatile nature of the Expanse, and Rain Runner‘s civilian crew, they were supposed to check in with Deep Space 47 on subspace comms every hour,” Maising continued, the frown in his grizzled beard deepening. “It’s been, as of now, four hours since they checked in last- and we’re the closest vessel to their last known location. We’re to take Oakland to her last reported position and start the search for the Rain Runner and her crew.”

Yep. She knew this couldn’t have gone well. A grimace formed on Charlie’s face, distorting even the bags under her eyes. “What’s the runnin’ theory on what happ’n’d?”

“Nobody’s sure. Foul play or natural phenomena are both likely. The nebula is an unpredictable place, and a hive for smugglers and pirates. Or it could be as simple as a comms failure. Either way, we’re not taking the chance it’s that simple.” He rose from his seat, giving the inexperienced XO what was probably supposed to be a reassuring smile… but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Best drink that coffee cup quick, Commander. I’m afraid today will be a long day.”

So it seems, Charlie’s brain grumbled to herself. She didn’t dare say such aloud, only rising in turn. “Aye, sir. I’ll meet’cha on th’ bridge soon as possible.”

She’d slurped down the last of her coffee by the time she made it into the hallway. But knowing how this could go? Charlie bet she’d probably need another.