Commander’s Log, Stardate 78324.3

I am officially going on the record to state I have no idea where that second bottle of Romulan Ale came from last night. Luckily however we had the extra numbers from our visitors from Gateway Station to help investigate and dispose of the contents in a controlled manner and I have it on good authority from our quartermaster that there shouldn’t be any more bottles aboard ship.

Note to the quartermaster – Romulan Ale to be served at all state dinners aboard ship.

Republic is once more at high warp as we’re now tearing across towards the Badlands. While we’ll be within a short distance of a number of high-profile systems on this trip, we’re not stopping as we’re scheduled for Deep Space 47 in just over a week. I’ve been told we’ll only be able to maintain warp seven through the Badlands, so should only be a day and a bit through the plasma storms.

I’ve read so much about them and similar, though much smaller, phenomena. Honestly can’t wait to see them. We’re also going to be hugging the Tzenkethi border as we go, but we’ve been informed that as long as we stick to a particular route they shouldn’t see us as anything more than regular fleet traffic.

So, in a little over eight days, we’ll be at Deep Space 47 and we’ll have our captain aboard. Then I get to brief everyone on tracking down Dr. T’Halla Shreln.

Fun.

“Commander.”

The one-word greeting, gruff and dripping with venom, did not provoke the intended response as Lieutenant Commander Evan Malcolm’s scowl grew with Sidda’s smile. It was just the merest acknowledgement of her presence in his domain and that she didn’t have the proper respect for his unwelcoming attitude hadn’t sat well with him.

“Morning Commander Malcolm,” Sidda answered in reply as she walked through Engineering towards Evan. “Lieutenant Jamieson told me you got an early start in this morning. Brave after last night.”

“I didn’t have that much to drink,” Malcolm answered. “And someone has to watch the engines since you have us sprinting across the Federation again as fast as possible.”

“We did the Avalon to Gateway run just fine, I think this second long-haul will be just fine.” Sidda offered a smile, which bounced off Evan’s irritable nature. “I read your report after our last run. Amazing engines you’ve built. Going from a ship that could barely hold 8.5 for 12 hours to one that gets up to 9.99 for longer….amazing.”

“Yes, well, Republic isn’t a Klingon deathtrap.”

“I wouldn’t write off the Vondem Rose so easily,” Sidda said as she kept her smile and walked past Evan, deeper into Engineering and towards the warp core. “Those Klingon deathtraps are built tough, are mean in a fight and have plenty of their own tricks up their sleeves.” She stopped at the railing around the core, turning to face Evan as she perched herself on the railing, hands settling on it. “But Republic is just so much newer than Rose, even her cloak wouldn’t hold up against all the fancy sensors this ship has. Should be proud of the technological marvel you’ve built.”

“I am,” Evan said, crossing his arms over his chest as he focused on Sidda. “Though I do not appreciate having my engines stress tested so strenuously after so shortly after we put to space.”

“Should we have spent a few months tootling around somewhere safe, slowly working the engines up?” Sidda asked. “Or mere weeks?”

“A series of increasing endurance runs would have been preferable.”

Sidda nodded her head in acceptance of Evan’s answer. “I’m sorry I couldn’t deliver that for you. But I needed to deliver a package and we need to be on station as quickly as possible. I saw it as a good opportunity for stress-testing Republic’s engines since we’re likely to be stationed in the Thomar Expanse long-term and there is a lot of space to cover out there. And, having read your personnel jacket, Commander Malcolm, I was confident you had not only built a superior vessel but having you on hand would ensure she’d meet my expectations.”

“What are you saying?” he asked.

“I’m saying I had every confidence, upon a review of the available facts, that Republic was up to the task thanks to your shepherding of her through construction and being on hand during her first major tests.” Sidda pushed off the railing and approached Evan, remaining just outside of his personal space. “And I’m hoping we can perhaps get past whatever this is,” she waved a hand between the two of them, “and work together, yes?”

“Upon a review of the available facts,” Evan started, echoing Sidda’s own words though with disdain lacing every word, “I don’t trust you. You’re Starfleet Intelligence, or someone who has SI fooled and is now parading around in a uniform.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t have Republic’s best interest at heart.” She winked at him as she walked past him. “Don’t you worry Commander, I’m sure we’ll be friends eventually. Just need to know how much of an uphill struggle I’m facing.”

“You didn’t answer me,” he asked to her back. “SI stooge, or someone who has them fooled?”

“You didn’t ask it as a question at first,” Sidda said, turning and walking backwards as she approached the door leading away from Engineering. “But, why not both?” she shot back as she finally disappeared from view.

“Huh,” Lieutenant Michelle Jamieson intoned as she stepped up beside Evan. “She’s going to be fun.”

“Tell everyone to keep an eye on her whenever she’s down here in Engineering. And goes double for that Romulan spy she brought with her.”

“Who, Revin? But she’s so nice. And have you tried the pastries she bakes for the Agora?” As Evan glowered and stalked away, Michelle couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her. “You’re working yourself into an early grave again boss.”

“Someone has too around here!” he shot back.”

Their quarters had finally been decorated properly and perhaps overly lavishly. At least, at Sidda’s insistence, the colours matched across the space or complimented each other at least. While it was still a textural cacophony, Revin’s influence evident there, it wasn’t an assault on the eyes like their shared personal spaces had been previously. It was all warm and comfortable colours, suffusing from red to purple and back again across the room, contrasted by the odd bit of rich wood panelling or stark black modernist furniture.

Rugs covered most of the floor now, bringing warmth to the room immediately, but it didn’t stop there. A few dividers had gone up, there to break up the common space. Throws adorned most of the furniture and a few recently procured paintings, or replicas of some, had gone up on the walls. Including a large painting of the Vondem Rose in orbit of Kyaban, the K’t’tinga-class battlecruiser’s purple hull glistening.

Another feature was how a number of the pieces of furniture in the common space had also been swapped out from the ‘factory finish’ to something more Vondem-chic. A low table and large floor cushions had replaced the table and chairs. Larger cushions had replaced the couch and single seats, the coffee table nearly the same, just shorter legs.

And it was on this pile of cushions, looking out the windows at the streaking lights of warp travel, that Sidda had perched herself after a long day and then shortly after found herself anchored in place as Revin had set herself before resting her head in Sidda’s lap.

“Evan Malcolm is going to be a problem,” Sidda finally said after nearly five minutes, her fingers playing with Revin’s hair as they both just sat there, enjoying the quiet and company of each other.

“Oh?” Revin asked sleepily.

“Hmm,” was the reply. “Paranoia, or just deep suspicions I’m guessing and a pathological dislike for Starfleet Intelligence.”

“Why don’t you look into it further?” Revin asked, turning to rest on her back and looking up at Sidda. “Maybe there’s something not in his personnel jacket?”

“I’d rather figure it out than give SI the satisfaction of having to go to them for more information.” Sidda looked down, smiling at Revin and brushing a few stray strands off her face. “Hey beautiful.”

“Hey,” Revin answered. “We should do dinner before we get too comfortable.”

“Replicator is just over there,” Sidda said, shaking her head once in the direction of the standard issue convenience.

“I was thinking the Agora. Ensign Merkle is kicking off themed dinner nights as a way of trying to bring the crew together. And you mixing with the crew every chance you can is a good idea.” Revin sat herself up, then was on her feet, holding out a hand to offer to help Sidda up.

“Fine, fine,” Sidda conceded, letting herself be dragged away from blissful comfort and back into the fray. “What’s for dinner then?”

“Something called a taco?” Revin said, phrasing it like a question. “Whatever that is.”