“What is she up to?,” Captain Wren Walton stood in the shuttle bay, watching shuttles come and go to support the colony below. The ‘she’ was Selene Voss, the newly elected, by coup, leader of The Network. Wren couldn’t stand still on the bridge, and so her feet had taken her here, where she watched Ensign Marisol Tran coordinate the flight control teams. The captain of the Mackenzie had come by Tran as a trade with the Olympic. Sadie Fowler married William Prentice, and both Walton and Captain Leopold Halsey had agreed to put the freshly wedded couple together. Tran’s quiet demeanor left plenty to imagine or guess, and Walton hadn’t asked.
Prentice and his outspoken voice left no doubt about where he stood with you or anyone else. Going from the gregarious flyboy to the quiet, reserved, and thoughtful opposite had given the flight control department several cases of whiplash. It was the other reason she was observing. The Mackenzie was a big and busy ship with lots of moving parts. Anything that slowed down threatened to start a slow-burning warp core breach.
Wren did not like that idea or the imagery it evoked. Tran was slow, sure. Yet, her movements showed something else. She did not waste time pacing back and forth. She set a path, walked to a shuttle to discuss with the pilot, spent time with the team, and returned to the operations hub in the exact steps she had taken. Wren spied the list on Tran’s PADD. The bullet points had bullet points set to give her direction for each officer, pilot, shuttle, and team. She watched Tran’s eyes, and they never left the person she was speaking with, and they were almost always a neutral softness, as if projecting a calming glance.
Walton watched a little longer until the shuttles had all departed, leaving Tran to work at her console in relative silence. Wren walked towards her. Wren felt amused when the ensign turned to face her, as the placid look remained, but a sparkle twinkled ever so lightly in her eyes.
The woman’s voice was as calm as her face. “Captain Walton. Ensign Marisol Tran. Thank you for accepting my transfer request.”
Wren felt a familiar, quiet smile tug at her lips, and she gave it room to grow on her face. “Welcome aboard, Ensign Tran. Thank you for being willing to transfer. How’s flight control?” Prentice’s transfer meant that Walton was, for now, without an executive officer. She hoped to remedy that quickly.
“It is new. I am new. It is all new. Thankfully, flight control has well-established processes and procedures, and my predecessor’s record has ensured the department is in incredible shape.” What might pass for a smile on Tran’s face was briefly evident before it faded. She moved to turn back to her console but stopped and locked her eyes onto Wren’s. “You are here to observe me, Captain.”
Walton didn’t hold back the smile this time. “Partially.” The curious silence from Tran pushed her to explain. “I was staring into space, wondering what Selene Voss is up to out here in the rimward. Trying to see what her next step might be, or think ahead to save another colony from this fate.”
Tran blinked, her eyes narrowing as she paused in thought. “Yes. The woman who replaced Tougun. Her dossier is unsettling. I would not like to share any part of space with her. She seems to act without logic or pattern. It’s hard to profile someone who defies many of the variables used to create such things.”
Walton cocked her head to the side, intrigued by this young ensign. “Ensign Tran, you seem to know something about something.” Tran replied with what Wren thought was a shrug, and Wren pushed. “Rule of the Mackenzie–no shrugging away a question.” The young ensign’s eyes widened enough for Wren to see that she could splinter the calm front.
Tran replied, “My apologies, Captain. In my off-time, I study manuals and specifications. I’ve recently found myself curious about the psychology of humans and aliens. Hence, my thoughts on Selene Voss.”
Walton chewed on the ensign’s answer. Tran was talented–that wasn’t up for debate. She seemed to show a keen intellect beyond flight control. The captain asked, “If you took some time with our chief counselor, Ensign Soojin, you might determine a pattern?”
Tran frowned. “Captain, I said-”
Walton stopped her. “I heard you, Ensign. The thing is everyone has a pattern. Humans. Vulcans. Klingons. Everyone. It’s why I think your mind might find what we’ve all missed so far. And Sam is a perfect fit. I’ll set aside some time for you both later today.” Tran stood at attention as Walton replied with a nod and left the shuttle bay.
