Rebecca cradled her coffee in her hands, staring intently at the viewscreen.  Her legs were crossed and by all outward appearances, she was the picture of calm and collected. But, on the inside she was a tempest of emotions.  Too many things could go wrong.

“The engines are still operating just like a Nyberian freighter,” Aoife McKenzie announced from engineering, a touch of pride in her voice. Not only did she mimic the typical warp signatures of those ships, she even had them emit random fluctuations indicative of the poor maintenance seen across many civilian ships.

“Still, Ms. Jones, let’s keep out of sight of the camp until we can strike.”

“Aye Sir. “Dropping to one-quarter impulse. If they do spot us, we want to fly casually.” Arin commented.

Riandri watched the viewscreen as the Denver made its way towards the prison colony without showing any expression. She knew the plan and was aware of all the possible issues that could arise. Glancing down at the console before her send rechecked the modifications to the engines and smiled seeing that everything was as it was meant to be.

Lieutenant Emimi Qetax was nervous, she was not a fighter and there was tension on the bridge. Granted, it was unlikely that there was going to be an actual physical fight that she was involved in, but even the hint of tensions got her in a bundle of knots. She glanced at the Captain but kept herself quiet, this was not the time for anything she had to say. If anyone needed her, they’d call on the Chief Counselor. For now she’s quiet.

Sickbay…

Commander Cheon Kyo stood in the sterile confines of the USS Denver’s sickbay, his tall, athletic frame a stark contrast to the clinical surroundings. He was there for what felt like an eternity, enduring the incessant hum of medical equipment and the occasional hushed conversation between the ship’s medical staff. As the Executive Officer of the Federation starship, he knew that his duty was on the bridge, overseeing the ship’s operations and ensuring the safety of the crew.

Kyo’s dark eyes were fixed on the medical officer who had been attending to him, a compassionate and capable Doctor, Tavana Malax.

“Doctor, I do believe that my time is up here,” the XO stated as he looked into her eyes.

The doctor nodded with her characteristic smile. “Yes Commander, you’re right.” She scanned him with her tricorder as she spoke. Putting it away, her smile became a smirk. “Do us a favor then and get the Hell out of my Sickbay and back on the Bridge.” She even made a shooing motion at him. “No disrespect, I assure you.” Tavana amended.

Cheon had become a master of concealing his true emotions over the years, when his anxiety would threaten to spill out. As he left sickbay, the forced smile remained plastered on his face, concealing the turmoil within. The sterile corridors of the starship provided a stark contrast to the chaos he felt inside.

His anxiety, a constant companion, began to gnaw at him as soon as the automatic doors sealed shut behind him. It was the result of years spent on the front lines of space exploration, facing dangers that most people couldn’t even fathom. Cheon had seen things that haunted his dreams and had lost friends he could never forget. But he couldn’t let anyone see his vulnerability. Not now, not ever.

He continued down the corridor, his posture straight, his footsteps measured. Crewmembers passed him by, oblivious to the storm raging behind his calm facade. He knew he had to keep up the act, for the sake of his crew and the mission. ‘There is no room for weakness out here in the vast, unforgiving reaches of space,’ he thought to himself as he walked the corridors.

Cheon’s thoughts raced, his heart pounded, but his exterior remained cool and collected. He knew that one slip, one moment of weakness, could jeopardize not only his own well-being but also the trust and confidence his fellow crewmembers had in him.

Cheon’s fake laugh lingered in his mind even as he stepped into the lift on his way to the bridge. The momentary relief from the facade in the sterile corridor had been fleeting, and he knew that he needed to put on a show once again as soon as the lift doors opened.

As the lift ascended, he allowed himself a brief respite, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. The quiet hum of the lift offered a brief reprieve from the anxiety that had been building since his exit from Sickbay. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to calm the racing thoughts and the pounding of his heart.

But all too soon, the lift came to a smooth stop, and the doors slid open to reveal the Denver’s bridge. The transition from the enclosed lift to the open, bustling command center was jarring. The bridge crew, focused and efficient, went about their duties. Displays flickered with data, and the low murmur of conversation filled the air.

Cheon stepped out of the lift, instantly assuming his role as the composed and confident commander. He couldn’t let his anxiety show here, where leadership was paramount. He straightened his uniform, took a deep breath, and walked purposefully to his command station.

With each step, he buried his apprehension deeper, locking it behind the same mask he’d been wearing for years. He knew that the crew looked to him for guidance and assurance, and he couldn’t let them down. As he settled into his chair and began to issue orders and make decisions, his exterior remained steadfast, concealing the turmoil that churned beneath the surface.

Bridge…

“The prison camp is coming into range,” an ensign at operations announced as the Denver barreled down on the lifeless planet that the POW camp was located on. 

“Fire!” Rebecca ordered.

Conroy nodded as he targeted the POW camp; he needed to make sure he did so without harming the prisoners. “Torpedoes away “ma’am” The first barrage had little to no effect.  He signaled for one of his tactical officers to come beside him. ”I need to you to run an analyst on their shield harmonics while I tweak the phasers. After a few seconds he started forward phaser fire. He looked over at the ensign to see him shake his head. Conroy grunted as he increased the power to phasers, “I am going to try to overload their shield generators. We need to break through without destroying the entire base.” After a small recalibration, he began to fire again.

“That had had a positive effect, their shields are weakening sir.” The ensign announced.

“Good,” He showed the ensign the recalibrated harmonics. I need you to rotate through these frequencies and 3-second intervals. He looked up over his counsel at the view screen, then back down, “ma’am I am going to need a better shot, I am sending over an analyst now.” He sent the data over to her.

“Helm bring us about,” Rebecca ordered.“Aye Sir. New course, one two zero, mark eleven.” Arin said.

Conroy was focused on his readings awaiting the Denver to come about into position, “remember 3 second intervals!”

“Yes sir,” the young officer replied.

The Denver was now in range, and in a better position, “Start now ensign!” He said as he released a hail of phaser fire, “What are the readings saying?”

“We’re effective, it appears to be working.”

“Change the intervals to 2, and 1 quarter second.” He said as he increased the phaser fire.”

“Shields down sir,”

Conroy quickly targeted the bases auxiliary power supply, and communication array with torpedoes, “torpedoes away!” He paused for a moment reading the data, “shield, and communications are down ma’am, power ha been temporarily affected I wouldn’t bet on the lights being off for too long ma’am”

“Good shooting Mr. Conroy,” Rebecca said flashing the tactical officer a smile. “Cheon assemble your team. Take a shuttle over to the base. I don’t want to risk beaming over until we control the base.”Commander Cheon sat in his designated spot on the bridge, a place that had once felt like a second home to him. His eyes were fixed on the starry expanse beyond the viewports, but his mind was adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

Over the last few months, a subtle yet undeniable shift had taken place within him. The once-clear path of his duties as a XO had become muddled and obscured. He couldn’t put his finger on a single defining moment or event, but a growing sense of unease had settled in the pit of his stomach.

As he glanced at the captain seated beside him, he couldn’t help but wonder if others on the bridge shared his concerns. Have they noticed the same undercurrent of change? Or was he alone in his uncertainty?

The bridge, typically a place of precision and purpose, now felt like a place of questions without answers. The instruments and displays that once provided him with a reassuring sense of control now seemed to mock his growing doubts.

Cheon thought back to his early days in the role, the thrill of serving on a starship, the camaraderie of his team, and the clear objectives of their missions. But lately, the objectives have become fuzzier, the missions less straightforward. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being led into unfamiliar territory, both figuratively and literally.

His duties, once a well-defined set of responsibilities, had morphed into a nebulous web of uncertainties. He wondered if his training and expertise were still relevant, or if the ship’s evolving mission required a different approach—one he wasn’t entirely prepared for.

Yet, despite the doubt that gnawed at him, Cheon couldn’t deny the palpable sense of duty that still burned within him. The desire to protect the ship, the crew, and the principles they stood for remained strong, even if the means to do so had become less clear.

For now, he continues to fulfill his duties to the best of his abilities, his expertise still an invaluable asset to the crew. But deep within, he knew that he needed answers and clarity about the changes he sensed. Whether it meant seeking guidance from the captain or delving into the ship’s evolving mission, Cheon was determined to uncover the truth behind the shifting tides that had unsettled his once-unwavering commitment.

Commander Cheon’s moment of introspection was interrupted by the commanding voice of the captain. Her call snapped him out of his reverie, and he swiftly turned his attention toward her. Her eyes met his, and the gravity of her expression left no room for doubt.

“Aye, Captain,” Cheon replied, his voice steady and resolute. He pushed himself up from his chair and made his way toward the lift. His footsteps were measured and purposeful, a reflection of his training and discipline.

That was also Arin’s cue to get up from the helm. Ensign Monica Jackson was already prepared to take her place. 

As he reached the lift, he instinctively tapped his combadge to communicate with his team. “Ensign T’Val, Lieutenant Commander Nalam, Lieutenant Mercy and Dr. Malax, please report to the shuttle bay,” he announced, ensuring that his orders would be heard by the designated crew members. The tone of his voice conveyed a sense of urgency and determination, echoing the captain’s unspoken message.

With the communication delivered, Cheon tapped his badge once more, severing his connection to the ship’s intercom. The bridge, once a place of uncertainty and contemplation, had now been transformed into a space of decisive action.

The lift doors closed behind him, enclosing Cheon in a momentary solitude as it descended. Inside, he took a deep breath, his thoughts shifting from introspection to the imminent task at hand. Whatever had been troubling him, he knew that duty and responsibility still called him to action, and he was determined to face it head-on, just as he had been trained to do throughout his career in Starfleet.

Riandri stepped onto the lift beside Cheon just before it closed, “You all set Commander? It’s good to have you back.” As she spoke the lift speed towards the shuttle bay and whatever the fates planned for them.

Ensign T’Val waited patiently for the others to assemble at the shuttle bay. She was passive and calm. The unknown was neither scary nor worth worrying about, rather they were skilled and capable, better to simply react to what they found then worry themselves emotionally without anyway of learning more.

Sickbay

“Acknowledged. On my way” Tavana answered and cut the connection with a quick tap on her chest. She set the PADD down she’d been studying and rushed out of her seat. She called out instructions to her staff as she grabbed a tricorder and a basic med kit. Slinging the kit over her shoulder, she made her way out of Sickbay and into the shuttle bay everyone had gathered in.

Shuttle Bay

Tavana rushed through the doors, dark eyes scanning the bay. Her peripheral’s found the group gathering around one of the shuttles, she made long, purposeful strides towards it. She nodded and smiled at each of those gathered, standing to one side of them. When she found Commander Kyo, she eyed him carefully. Something in his demeanor caught her as concerning but she couldn’t pin down why. Time would tell she was sure.

Runabout

Though she was already in flight gear, Arin had to swing by the armory to draw her load-bearing gear and phaser.  Reaching the shuttle bay, she headed for the runabout. A shuttle might be able to do more things in tighter spaces, but this wasn’t going to be a time for finesse. The ship had been refitted with a standard personnel interior. Arin had heard it was possible to cram forty-plus people into one. Entering the side, she quickly headed for the cockpit and started her pre-flight. 

Shuttle bay

Cheon’s gaze swept over the team members gathered in the briefing room, each of them seasoned professionals with their own unique skills and backgrounds. He knew the gravity of the mission at hand; lives depended on their success, and he couldn’t afford to let his own anxieties interfere.

With deliberate calm, he began the briefing. “Listen up, everyone,” he started, his voice firm and authoritative. He made a point to establish eye contact with each team member, his gaze finally resting on Riandri. He hoped that his steely exterior concealed any trace of unease or apprehension about the mission.

“Our mission is clear,” Cheon continued, outlining the details. “We’re going in to secure the POW camp, extract any prisoners, and neutralize any threats. The intel suggests that there might be high-value assets inside, so we need to be prepared for anything.”

He went on to describe the layout of the camp, potential opposition, and the roles each team member would play. Cheon emphasized teamwork and precision, underlining the importance of everyone working together seamlessly to minimize risks.

“As always,” he concluded, “safety is our top priority. We’re professionals, and we’ll get this done. Trust in your training, trust in each other, and let’s bring those prisoners home.”

With a final nod, Cheon signaled the end of the briefing. He knew that the mission was fraught with danger, but he also knew that he had a team of capable individuals who could handle it. As the team members dispersed to make final preparations, Cheon took a moment to gather his thoughts, steeling himself for the challenges that lay ahead.

Cockpit of the Runabout

Cheon found his way into the co-pilot’s seat, his eyes shifting to Arin, who was already in the pilot’s chair. He offered her a reassuring smile, his earlier anxiety now strangely dissipating as if it had never existed in the first place.

“You ready, Lieutenant?” he asked, his voice carrying a newfound confidence that had replaced the uncertainty he’d felt earlier. The coolness that enveloped him was a welcome change, and he couldn’t help but wonder about the source of this sudden transformation. 

Arin replied, “Sir, yes, sir.” She said with a slight nervous chuckle. 

As Cheon settled into the co-pilot’s seat and looked at Arin, the question of his sudden calmness gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. Was it the familiarity of heading into a prisoner camp, his past experiences providing a strange sense of reassurance? Or was it something else entirely, a mysterious shift in his emotions that defied explanation?

He pondered these possibilities, trying to dissect the source of this newfound serenity, but it remained elusive. The answers seemed to slip through his grasp, like trying to catch smoke with bare hands. Realizing that he couldn’t dwell on it at this moment, he chose to push the thought aside, planning to revisit it later when the mission was behind them.

With a firm resolve, Cheon turned his attention to the task at hand, knowing that their primary objective was to secure the prisoners and complete the mission successfully. The mysterious calmness would have to wait for another time, perhaps when the immediate danger had passed. 

When the flight check was finished, and the runabout hummed, awaiting command to action, Arin turned to Cheon. “Let’s just say I am eager to even the odds, so if I can be there when the Jem’Hadar get whacked with a shillelagh. Sir, I’m on board with the mission 100% and more. Plus, I really love flying this big beefy gal.”

Riandri looked round at the others and nodded to Cheon before glancing back at the others, “Try not to destroy every computer you find if possible. There won’t be a treasure trove of intel but anything could help.”

Arin’s hands and eyes checked systems. She had the console set to visual and tactile inputs. Now ready, she tapped the console. “Bridge this is the Rappahannock. Permission to embark on this mission of chaos and mercy.” Her brain thinks of the history of the tribe that inspired the name. Can’t scalp a Jem’Hadar she chuckled to herself.  

Tavana settled herself into her seat after stowing her equipment. Despite her calm exterior, her emotions were mixed.  She thought of her dear Malax and their love for one another, as well as her family. She closed her eyes a moment and sighed. ‘Another mission, another day,’ she thought silently as she listened to the pilots chatter.