USS Erigone – Bridge – 0715

“Good morning, Commander.”  Jordan Reid stepped onto the bridge, a fresh mug of coffee in one hand, and a PADD in the other.  Harris looked from the center chair and gave her a nod.

“Good morning, Lieutenant.  We’ve got orders from Starfleet to assist in a repair and secure job on the edge of the Velorum Sector.  One of the outposts got mixed up with the Romulan Star Navy as they were fleeing the sector.  Our detachment of engineers will help them get back up and running.”

She slid into the chair at the science station and took a deep drink of her coffee, “Here’s hoping we get there from here without anything else on our radar.”  She tapped at her console, “I finished up with the data dump from the ship last night.”  She tapped at the console and the main view screen changed as she went over what she had found, “There were some files of interest in the computer and not just from the current occupants.  It looks like the SS Pentax was involved in intelligence gathering both on the Federation…and with the Federation.”  The screen rotated through the various logs and data she had reviewed.

Harris leaned back in his chair, “So whoever operated the Pentax before Presa took over was a…double agent for the Federation?”

The information on the screen changed again, “I think there’s more to Presa than meets the eye.  His style of log writing is very similar to the previous owner of the ship.  There’s an ‘official’ transfer order having the Pentax change owners to Presa…but there’s data corruption on who the owner was in the first place.”  She changed the data on the screen again, “…but I looked at the corruption signature…and if you look close enough…,” she zoomed in through the various levels of code until the marked area of damage filled the screen, “That’s not natural corruption.  You’d have to know what you’re looking for to read between the lines of the code…but someone sabotaged certain parts of the Pentex’s computer, logs, and records to ensure the past stayed in the past.”  She turned in her chair, “I think Presa was some kind of deep level operative in the Romulan Star Empire…and I think something happened to make him flee.”

Ambrose stood from the center chair and slowly walked to where she sat at the back of the bridge, “There’s lots of talk about how this all occurred and that most of the people fleeing were people who would not have been on board with this whole situation.”  He glanced back at the screen, “What if Presa and his crew had long been loyal operatives or whatever for many years…and suddenly they found the line they refused to cross.  That this was too much for them.”

Reid frowned, “You’re suggesting a tried and true veteran Romulan operative would have blinked at murder and political assassination?  We studied them in the academy.  They’re true believers.”  She continued to tap at her console as she reviewed the data she’d found, “Now that you’re mentioning it…,”  She tapped over to the communication logs of the Pentax, “There are some odd messages and communications going on here.”

Harris leaned down and read the messages and transcripts, a sly smile developing on his face, “That son of a gun.  He was trying to figure out what they were up to, right up until the last moments.  You see those phrases – I’d best my command that’s code between him and his contact.  The repetition is key…there…and there.”  He selected the details and the computer analyzed, a green affirmation mark appearing.  “He was trying to figure it out…so he could warn someone.”  A beat passed, “Who knows if he got any warnings out…they must have been suspicious enough to get Kalia involved.  That or they suspected everyone and Kalia was the rule and not the exception.”

The doctor groaned as she listen to her commander, “I’m a doctor, not a geopolitical analyst.  This is why I went to medical school.  I’d rather patch up the idiots on both sides and save their lives than have to sort out who hates who, who’s gonna kill who, and why it keeps happening.”

Harris chuckled, “Now you know how I feel about command, Doctor Reid.”  She gave him a playful roll of her eyes as she returned to her station.  He returned to the center chair and tapped a message into his PADD.  Senior Staff Meeting at 0900 on the bridge.  Briefing and assignments to follow.  He checked his chrono.  He had enough time to snag breakfast.

USS Erigone – Bridge – 0900

Roger’s duty shift on the bridge started at 0900, but when he received a message from the CO there would be a briefing there for the senior staff, he hurried getting ready and took over the tactical station fifteen minutes early.

Senior staff.

Only a few months out of Starfleet Academy and he was part of the senior staff. A Raven was a small ship by Starfleet standards, but it was still a ship. As long as he did his duty and did it well, this could be only good for his career and dream of having his own command.

Harris stood at the front of the bridge facing his senior staff.  The screen showed the details of their assignment.  “Good morning.  We’ve got our first assignment.”  He nodded to Reid at the back consoles as the images changed to show the station.  “We’re being dispatched to help repair and restore this station near the Velorum Sector – there are equal parts medical needs and engineering needs so we’ll be plenty busy.”  He tapped at his PADD, “Further mission details have been sent to your PADDs for review.  My understanding from Starfleet is that this will be a simple repair and heal operation but as we’ve witnessed recently – the situation in the sectors around the former, current, and whatever else Romulan Empire is fluid at best and out of control at worst.  Multiple ships and groups have been assigned to the sector so we won’t be alone, but we’re operating on our own without support.  I have every confidence in us.”  He looked around to his command team, “What questions do you have?”

The helm officer spoke up, “Do we expect any kind of resistance or combat?”  He had been doing lots of time in the holodeck with maneuvers and attack vectors.  The last few months had been a startling discovery that he wasn’t as good as he thought he was.

Ambrose shrugged, “I can’t promise anything – though I wish I could.  There’s a lotta movement out there with every different player in this mess throwing down and throwing up – plenty of our ships out in the sector or on their way are playing scouts when it comes to ship positions and who belongs to who.  We’re not built for long or sustained combat of any kind so we need to be careful.  This isn’t a Galaxy-class that can take a pounding.”

Philips spoke up, “Will we have time to run some drills?  If we come under fire, we will need to be prepared to respond accordingly.”  He had completed his own evaluation of the crew since coming aboard and he was astonished at the lack of preparation and training he had found in the files of his fellow command team.

The CO gave him a nod, “We’ll do what we can.  Prentice already laid us in a course and we’re slated to arrive at the station at 1500 today.  This will require some adjustments in your shift schedules.  Make your own adjustments.”  He nodded to Reid, “Doctor Reid is our First Officer and will be the one, aside from me, to ask for activation of the ECH to ensure everyone’s rested and ready.  Any other questions or concerns?”

“No questions here, sir,” said Roger, “but whatever you need me to do to help prepare, I’m ready. I’ve run diagnostics on the tactical systems. If anything happens out there, we’ll give our best.”

Harris looked around the bridge.  Each of them brought something to the table of the Erigone.  Each was going to be tested in the coming days.  “Very well.  Report to your stations at 1500.  Dismissed.  Doctor Reid?  My ready room.”

USS Erigone – Ready Room / Quarters– 0930

Harris sat on the couch across from Reid, swirling his apple cider glass as she sipped on her requisite black tea.  They regarded each other in silence before he leaned forward, “Helluva thing, the Pentax.”  He looked into her eyes for a moment before asking, “How are you doing?”

Jordan leaned back on the couch, enjoying the chilled tea.  She wondered when he’d sit down with her to discuss what had happened on board the aging Miranda class.  She was quietly thankful he’d given her time to process on her own.  Some commanding officers sought to force you to reckon with your feeling before you even had a chance to feel them.  “I’m…not sure, Commander.”  Searching for the right words she ended up with, “I’ve seen death up close.  Working in emergency medicine…and my fellowship…people died on us.  But…they died in our care.”  She shook her head, still trying to sort out how she felt about it all, “These men and women…they died without care…without help…without anything.  They were murdered.”  Reid sat forward, fire burning behind her eyes, “They died because someone wanted them to die to show us we should be afraid of them.  They died to instill fear…and that’s hard to accept.”

Ambrose sighed, “That’s the part that’s been hard for me, too.  I refuse to accept the blame for their deaths…”, he gestured his chin at her, “…and you should too.  The blame rests on the evil that thought it better that they die in cold blood instead of maybe surviving but still in fear.”  He swirled the cider in his cup, “It doesn’t make trying to understand how to process any of it any easier.”  He downed the cider and set the cup on the coffee table between them.

Reid drank from her tea and spat out, “I didn’t think I’d have to tackle this kind of crap this early in my command experience.”  Another drink.  “You ever read Lord of the Rings, Commander?”  She leaned back on the couch, staring out the window as the stars rushed past.

Her CO chuckled, “J.R.R Tolkien was required reading in my home.  One of the classics of old Earth literature.  Why?”

A shrug, “There’s a line where Frodo reaches a point where he feels he can’t continue…that it’s too much.  He says, ‘I wish the Ring had never come to me.  I wish none of this had happened.’  I’ve been thinking about that line since we got back onboard the Erigone.”

Harris leaned back, remembering the scene in the book, “Doesn’t Gandalf say something profound in response?”

Reid allowed a thin smile to cross her lips, “Touche, Commander.  He says, ”So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide…”

The CO interrupted her, “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.’  I remember that moment.”  He sat forward, filed his glass with cider once more, and held it up to her, “Here’s to deciding what to do with the time we have been given, Doctor Reid.”  She gave him a long look and his mouth smiled in response so she rolled her eyes and clinked her glass to his.

“They teach you that in command school, Commander Harris?”

“Learned that from my momma, thankyouverymuch.  She loves her toasts and hosting – probably why she’s a diplomat and I’m an engineer.”  He stood, “I’ll take the CONN for a bit.  Get some rest – we’ll split the day shift to make sure our folks are ready at 1500.”  She gave him a half nod and left the room.  Harris downed the rest of his cider and headed for the bridge.