Commander Gucti Erin, her long red hair still tied up in her signature ponytail and swinging lightly from side to side, was wearing a hole in the decking of her quarters, pacing as she recorded her daily log.

She had been thrust into the centre chair of the USS Cupertino, a California Class utility cruiser a week earlier via a field promotion and reassignment.  That had not been how she wanted to achieve her first command.

Instead she had obtained her third solid gold rank pip, not through merit or a rigorous selection process but rather down to a lack of available officers with her specific skillset who had passed the Command Training Program. Simply put, there just wasn’t anyone else.  This hadn’t been the first time the Cupertino had received a senior officer in such a manner.

Needless to say, she was giving it her all.  The Cupertino was assigned a mission profile, that matched her skillset, as a rapid response vessel providing aid & co-ordination when disasters or emergencies struck within the Alpha Quadrant. 

But, her first week in command of the USS Cupertino had, in her opinion, not been a good one. It wasn’t that any one thing that happened in the last seven days was particularly bad. In fact, their first mission had been a success and they had delivered supplies and support to a Colony near the border with relative ease. It was just, commanding this ship – no, this senior staff –  had been more difficult and emotionally draining than she had expected. 

As she continued her pacing, she recorded her log aloud,

“… I have to keep reminding myself that the brass would not have given me command of Cupertino if they genuinely felt that I wasn’t capable of doing the job. And I know I’m a disaster management specialist, but ‘Jesus’, this ship is a disaster in itself.  

It’s as if the majority of the Senior Staff have just ‘given up’, coasting out the rest of their careers in an easy assignment until retirement. There is a complete lack of motivation, and the ship’s morale is certainly at rock bottom.   

Clearly there is a leadership problem onboard the Cupertino, obviously for some time, and I’m working flat-out to understand why. My instincts tell me that Randal Jones, the Executive Officer, should be my biggest concern. His lack of standards and ‘that will do’ attitude has clearly cascaded throughout the rest of the senior staff.  I’m still appalled that I arrived on ship to find areas of the ship in a state of dishevelment. I am starting to understand why after 6 years on the Cupertino, he has not been promoted or achieved a more prestigious posting.  

Oh god. And the Chief Engineer! I thought Vulcans are supposed to be -” 

Her flow was halted abruptly by the ding of the ship’s intercom and the voice of the Second Officer, Lieutenant Jenni Flyte. 

“Commander Gucti, we are receiving a distress signal. Please report to the Bridge”, Flyte’s neutral tone followed the ding with zero lag.

Erin had recognised early on that Flyte, along with Jones, was one of the major objectors to her appointment as Captain of the California Class ship.  To the point that she wasn’t entirely sure that the Second Officer had actually referred to her as ‘Captain’ in the entire week they’d be in space together. 

“On my way Lieutenant. Isn’t Lieutenant Commander Jones, Officer of the Watch for this shift?” she asked over the commline while retrieving her uniform jacket from a dining chair and pulling it back on.  There was a short, factual, back and forth between the two as Gucti made her way from her quarters to the bridge. 

—

As Gucti made her way from the turbolift at the back of the bridge, she watched as Flyte vacated the centre chair for her. 

“What have you got for me Lieutenant?” she asked, ignoring the absence of the Executive Officer.  She would deal with that later. 

“We’ve received a distress call from the SS Infinity’s Horizon, she’s run aground in the McAllister Nebula and requires assistance.” 

Flyte’s briefing continued to provide the Captain with all the detail they had on the Infinity’s Horizon’s status. Other than the nature of the very incident in question, there was nothing to suggest anything majorly untoward had occurred. 

“So, how does what is effectively a galactic cruiser liner… run aground?” she asked no one in particular, “Helm.  Set a course and engage at maximum warp.” 

The helmsman verbally acknowledged her command, plotted the course and tapped a few buttons. On the viewscreen, the surrounding stars rippled for a fraction of second, before being replaced by streaks of multicoloured light as the ship immediately and effortlessly, the Cupertino jumped to warp and started the 4 hour journey to the McAllister Nebula. 

Gcuti turned her attention back to the Second Officer, “The ex-oh?” she asked pointedly. 

“I was unable to raise him on the comm,”

“That doesn’t explain why he wasn’t, or rather isn’t at this post Lieutenant.”

“He excused himself earlier, gave me the conn and-” 

“How much earlier?” the Captain began to walk a circle around the Second Officer, she could see her second in command becoming uncomfortable, “How much?” she asked again. 

The Lieutenant was clearly loyal to the Executive Officer and was doing her best to save him from getting into any further trouble. But there was no denying that Lt Commander Jones should have been on the Bridge at this exact moment. “… around 50 minutes into the duty shift.” 

Gucti lifted her head to the left, looking at the ceiling bulkhead, trying to hide her anger and disbelief at what she’d just been told. “That was over 4 hours ago.  Where is he?” 

There was no response from Flyte who hung her head in what almost looked to Gcuti as shame.  After a week of encouraging and cajoling the Executive Officer to perform better, she’d had enough.  Gucti reached for her combadge, tapped it, and gave an order she never wanted to have to give again, 

“Gcuti to the Chief of Security. Locate the Executive Officer and bring him to the observation lounge, immediately.” 

===