Being responsible for the lives of nearly nine hundred souls across the squadron weighed heavy on Keziah’s usually broad shoulders. She hadn’t hesitated in stepping up just days ago when Admiral Grayson had ordered her to assume command of the unit from her new flagship, the Lakota, but a lot had changed since then. Rumours. Unofficial reports. Unconfirmed sightings. And now, missing starships. With another crisis threatening to engulf the galaxy, again at the hands of their deadliest foe, the Collective, Keziah was already growing weary of the title ‘Squadron Commander’. An additional silver bar beneath her insignia wasn’t worth it, was it?

But… then there were the data packets staring at her from the foot of her bed. Recordings, sensor readings and some crew logs, all obtained from Starfleet and detailing the early stages of Marlowe’s mission. But the ship and its crew had been quiet for days now, and finding them was her responsibility. That. That made her job worth it.

Reaching for the small pile of PADDs, she got comfortable among the traditional goose feather bedding she’d first experienced on Earth and lay back on the soft pillows. Once she was in prime position, she let out a sigh of satisfaction. As she began reading, it became abundantly clear that Marlowe had moved from phenomena to phenomena over the last two months, conducting hundreds of scans as they sought to improve Starfleet’s understanding of the region beyond Federation space, scouting locations for possible terraforming operations or settlement of new colonies. In terms of Starfleet missions, it wasn’t the most exciting, but it was worthwhile.

Accessing the personal logs that had been shared with them, Keziah glanced through the list until something caught her eye. Someone by the name of Jareth Voss had kept a log every single day and was the final log that had been recorded prior to the loss of contact. Accessing the file, she found it to be a video recording and began playback.

Chief Science Officer’s log, supplemental.

 

Watching the formation of the Ursa Astralis micronebula was an achievement that many on this crew had never experienced, and would likely never experience ever again. It was a discovery that we should be taking the time to celebrate, basking in the glory of a complete scientific endeavour. Instead, we’re being shunted from pillar to post in search of the next great discovery to put on Qadd’s record. It’s clear he doesn’t want to be here; that Marlowe is nothing but an inconvenience to him. A stepping stone back to the big leagues after the loss of his previous command. I know it. The crew knows it.

 

He’s made arrangements to meet with a vessel we first registered on sensors two days ago, hoping to confirm rumours of a region where dozens of stars are apparently reaching the end of their life cycle. The potential for studying a field of supernovae is something he clearly isn’t willing to pass up, even though it presents significant risk. The explosion from one supernova alone can release a tremendous amount of energy and radiation, but dozens, potentially into the low thirties if rumours are to be confirmed, could be catastrophic.

 

He’s willing to put this ship at risk in pursuit of his next, big find. I may be the only dissenting voice at the moment, but I see it as my duty to protect this ship and crew.

 

I will not allow him to risk this ship or crew, not even on the altar of science…

Dropping the data PADD into her lap, the captain rubbed her eyes and let out a yawn of epic proportions, almost as epic as the log she had just read. For all the wrong reasons. Was it possible that Marlowe’s disappearance had something to do with this ship Qadd had ordered them to rendezvous with? Or perhaps they had gone on to investigate this rumoured field of supernovae? Either was possible, but what worried her more was the reference to his willingness to risk the ship and crew for his own ends. Tension between captain and crew was nothing new. There was always someone who would be unhappy with an order, or a mission objective, but the tone of the log was enough to worry her. It sounded almost… mutinous. Before she was willing to pursue that line of thought, she felt compelled to look into this assertion that Qadd was, perhaps, using the Marlowe as some sort of stepping stone to bigger and better things.

“Computer,” she called out without so much as moving from her comfortable position, “access and download the personnel file for Captain Fykis Qadd, commanding officer, USS Marlowe,” she instructed.

“Working…”

Tucking her hands beneath her head, the Trill found herself staring at the ceiling, her eyelids feeling exceptionally heavy all of a sudden.

The next time she sat up and let out an almighty yawn, the chronometer on her dresser indicated she’d been asleep for almost three hours. Reaching out, still half asleep, she patted the bed until her hand rested upon the item she was looking for. Blinking what felt like an inordinate amount, her eyes finally gained focus. On the PADD, the words ‘download complete’ flashed repeatedly until she satisfied its need for attention and pressed the button to open the file. Opting to get herself a drink before reading the PADDs contents, she reached for her dressing gown and slipped it on, tying it around the waist whilst she slipped her feet into a pair of insanely fluffy slippers.

Yawn after yawn accompanied her every step towards the replicator and even threatened to disrupt her request for a glass of cocoa at a drinkable temperature. And she had to have a squirt of cream and several small, pink pillows of sugar perched on the top, right? Vasoch, her dear friend, would have considered it a crime to have such a beverage without the marshmallows he had been introduced to and subsequently taught her about.

Placing her hands on the work surface on either side of the replicator, she stretched out her back and let out a groan. But while her body creaked in physical discomfort, her mind drifted to her friend. Vasoch had gone missing like many at the hands of the Changelings, gods knows when. But unlike so many, no trace of the Tellarite had ever been found, not so much as a stray hair or fingerprint. Given recent times she had almost forgotten him. They’d been through so much that even Gor would have forgiven her for letting him slip into her memories. But while she still partook in a hot chocolate every once in a while, her forgetting him altogether was highly unlikely.

Grabbing the replicated glass, she headed for the sofa in the middle of her living quarters, her tanned legs poking out from beneath her dressing gown, slippers sliding on the shiny floor. She had just bent over to place the glass on the coffee table when the door chime to her quarters rang out and made her jump. If she’d been holding the drink still, the contents of the glass would likely be all over the coffee table, sofa, floor and herself by now.

“Enter!” she beckoned.

As the door to the Captain’s private abode parted and the figure crossed the threshold, he saw her collapse into the sofa with a huff, almost to be swallowed by the enormous cushions.

Lieutenant Or’uil cocked his head as he took several steps towards the Captain. “Apologies for the lateness of my visit Captain,” he smiled nervously, “but this cannot wait.”

With an arched brow, Nazir watched the young Ungeat as he brandished a data PADD in her direction. Letting out a sigh, she reached for the device with one hand and gestured to a vacant chair with the other. Reaching for her drink and sipping the beverage, the words on the page danced their way off the electronic page. When she was done, she tossed the device onto the table and slouched into the sofa.

Rubbing her right temple, she uttered two words that startled the adolescent Ungeat and caused him to sit bolt upright.

“Fucking hell…” she fumed.

Wide-eyed and almost in terror at the woman’s frustration, the tactical officer could do nothing but watch as Nazir pushed herself off the sofa and headed for the privacy of her bed chamber. He rose, ready to leave until she turned and glared at him.

“Stay there. Do not move,” she frowned, then vanished into the private space.

When she eventually emerged, dressed once again in her duty uniform, the jacket flapping open over her pale blue vest that covered her torso, the Captain took a minute or two to finish up. She stepped across to the table and picked up the glass that contained the remnants of her beverage and poured the dregs into her mouth, only to stop before she swallowed. Her eyes settled on her tactical chief, who was watching her every move, and she forced the beverage down her gullet in a single gulp. Returning the glass to the table, Keziah shook her head and smirked.

“When I said ‘stay there, don’t move’, I didn’t mean it so literally,” she told the youngster, hands on her hips.

“Forgive me Captain, but you said ‘do not move’, ” the Ungeat clarified. “I would never disobey such a command from my commanding officer.”

Laughing, she shook her head at the entirely appropriate response of her tactical chief and pointed to the data PADD. “Grab that,” she instructed. She watched him pick up the storage device and cradle it as if his life depended on it. In that moment, she couldn’t help but marvel at the man’s youthful innocence. His stature fooled people into believing he was older than he was, and she was guilty of forgetting his age herself.

“Come on you,” she smiled, jerking her head towards the door. “Let’s go see what shit’s about to hit the fan this time…”