[USS Missouri 22:05 – Approaching Betazed]

Doctor Cluadia Sandoval sat in the observer’s seat on the bridge of the Excelsior-class USS Missouri. Claudia was well into her ninth decade with six of them having been dedicated to Starfleet in some form or another, though much of her career had been served on Earth.  Not that she was a newbie to space service having served on the Eagle, Minerva, and Excelsior. And despite that with her once raven black hair turned to white she felt mostly like she did in her thirties; just with a few more aching joints and a back that was less forgiving.

To her left sat the ship’s executive officer. She was a long legged and petite Irish woman of  forty-three. Despite middle age there wasn’t a trace with gray in the bright auburn hair, and the few wrinkles on her face were soft and only exposed themselves when she laughed or smiled. Commander Rachel Sandoval had married Claudia’s youngest son Jonanthon, and the couple had a daughter together.

Ten-year-old Rebecca Sandoval sat on Claudia’s lap excited beyond words because she was allowed to visit the bridge.  The little girl was the spitting image of her mother down to the copper-red hair and green eyes that seemed to see into one’s soul.  Where Jonothan was in there Claudia wasn’t sure.  Maybe the upturn of the nose? Certainly the girl’s skin tone was a shade or two darker to the olive over her mother’s pale complexion.

“I’m going to miss you abuela,” Rebecca said looking up.

Claudia smiled and hugged the girl, “And I will miss you too nieta.”

“Why can’t you just stay here?”

“Because this ship already has a doctor.  The Achilles does not.”

“Isn’t Achilles in the foot?”

Claudia nodded, “It is a tendon that connects the calf muscle to the heel, but in this case I’m pretty sure the ship is named after Greek warrior that fought in the siege of Troy.  It is he who the tendon was named after. Legend has it that he was shot in that tendon by an arrow.”

Rebecca nodded taking the information in. “He must have been a hero to get two things named after him.”

“Homer seems to have thought so,” Claudia replied.

“Who is Homer?”

“Oh, an ancient Greek author and poet.  He wrote the Iliad and Odyssey.”

“Oh,” Rebecca replied. 

“Commander we’re approaching the Betazed System,” the helmsman announced. 

Rachel sat up, “Slow to impulse.”

“Impulse aye,” the helmsman replied his fingers dancing over the controls of his station. 

“Inform the Achilles that their doctor has arrived,” Rachel said standing from the center seat.  She then lifted her daughter off of her mother-in-law’s lap.

The communications officer turned from her seat, “Ma’am, the Achilles is prepared to receive Doctor Sandoval.”

Claudia stood a little stiffly but it was steady. Hugging Rebecca she gave the girl a peck on the cheek, “Mind your mother nieta.”

“I will abuela.”

Rachel reached over and hugged Claudia,  “Be safe out there mom.”

“You too hija.  You have a wonderful daughter to raise. I’m just biding time until I can be with Tony again.”

She bent down and picked up a bulging duffle,  slung it over her shoulder. “Come nieta walk me to the transporter room will you?”

Laid out on a biobed in little more than a periwinkle hospital gown, Lieutenant Tumaini Calumn watched the nurse conduct manual palpations on his left leg and then his right leg.  Nurse Malko took a firmer hold of Calum’s leg and gently pushed his knee closer to his chest.  Letting out a slow breath, Calumn rubbed his dark beard as he watched — the sensation was equally novel as it was familiar.  Calumn had been growing his beard out again for the past week, after his last mission.

Before saying anything definitively, Nurse Malko took one more look at the biofunction monitor mounted above Calumn’s head.  “There’s definitely tension,” Malko said, in confirmation of Calumn’s complaints about his knee and lower back.  Carefully, he extended Calumn’s right leg out again.  Smiling encouragingly, Malko added, “But the joints feel healthy.”

“My last mission,” Calumn said glibly, “wasn’t exactly Bridge duty.”  Looking up at Malko as he said it, Calumn’s dark eyes widened dramatically to convey just how far away from Bridge duty his last mission had been.

Nurse Malko met Calumn’s eyes when he said, “Monitor how you’re feeling for the next few days…”  –And he winked puckishly–  “I think you’ll be okay.”  He reached for a cart and pulled it closer to the biobed, providing Calumn with the black trousers and red jacket of his folded up uniform.  “They’ll complete a full physical examination when you report to the USS Achilles anyway.”

Bracing his palms against the biobed mattress, Calumn pushed himself up into a sitting position.  His head pivoted from side to side as he looked around Sickbay for a chronometer.  Calumn asked, “Are we still on schedule for our rendezvous with Achilles?”

Smiling knowingly, Malko shared an incredulous look with Calumn.  “Shouldn’t you… know already?” Malko asked, as he tapped a finger against the side of his own head.

Calumn looked down in his lap for a moment, just a moment, and then his previous expression returned.  Calumn’s angular features softened as he returned Malko’s smile with a smile of his own.  “I’m not that kind of Betazoid,” was all Calumn said, shaking his head.

“That’s a shame,” Malko said with a hint of emphasis.  Remembering something else Calumn had said, Malko squinted at him, and he asked, “Wait… What was your last mission like anyway?”

One Week Earlier

Location: Vingel IX – Kiota Base


Stalking into the briefing room steadily, Tumaini Calumn resembled nothing so much as the victim of a transporter malfunction. He approached the conference table without hesitation or preamble. Beneath his chainmail shirt and pantaloons, his frame appeared to be basically bipedal. However, golden-feathered wings hung low from his arms, and a matching feathered-mohawk topped his scalp. Where his skin was visible, it was scaly and shaded like ripe aubergine. The better part of his face, meanwhile, was obscured by a beak like an albatross. Calumn’s obsidian-irised eyes –a Betazoid telltale– were the only part of him that truly remained visible.

“Yeoman,” Calumn said forcefully. He managed to milk three syllables out of the word. He came to stand at attention before Yeoman Aloysius, and he demanded to know, “Are you trying to kill Doctor Vigny?”

Already seated at the conference table, Yeoman Aloysius folded his hands over the Kiota Base logo etched into the tabletop.  “…No,” Aloysius answered tentatively.  Calumn’s question had sounded like a non-sequitur to his ears, which caused most of his confusion.  Narrowing his eyes at Calumn, Aloysius felt positively underdressed in the simple, red jacket of his uniform.  Shaking his head, Aloysius added, “I don’t think so?”

Calumn offered no immediate reply. Standing there, he stared back at Aloysius, obviously appraising him. The tension poured out of his posture, but at least the vitriol faded from behind his eyes. Calumn swung his hips in a casual manner to bump the nearest chair. The chair bounced off the table and rolled far enough away for Calumn to seat himself. He laid his palms flat on table; his talons clicked against the surface. Calumn’s tenor was grim, when he said, “Doctor Vigny is my charge. He serves as a cultural observation officer, posted to the nearest Vingellan city. Protection detail is my assignment. Undercover. …A cover I have jeopardized by returning to base in daylight.”

Leaning against the table’s edge, Calumn spoke to Aloysius in his greatest approximation of a conspiratorial tone. “I don’t normally look like this,” he said. For all his affectation of cloak and dagger, the words came out earnestly.

Nodding vaguely, Aloysius replied, “Yes, I uh– Yes, I’ve seen your service jacket.  You’ve been recalled to Kiota Base because of new orders, Lieutenant.”  Aloysius put a hand on the wedge-shaped PADD on the table between them and he nudged it in Calum’s direction.  “Transfer orders.”

While Calumn didn’t gasp at being given orders to transfer assignments in the middle of a mission, he did let out the breath he was holding. It came out as a tight gust of air, like a release valve. Calumn stretched his arms across the table –but he didn’t quite touch the PADD– as if greater physical proximity would give him greater understanding. “Yeoman, do you,” Calumn asked, “respect the responsibilities of a security officer?”  His dark eyes studied Aloysius, unblinking.

Remaining confused by the direction of the conversation, Aloysius could only say, “I respect the responsibilities of a security officer, just as I respect the responsibilities of everyone in Starfleet. I can promise you that I accord no greater or lesser respect to anyone doing their part for the Feder–”

In a tone that was flat, but not lifeless, Calumn interjected to ask, “How could it be acceptable for me to abandon my post here?  I was assigned to Kiota Base with the other non-essential personnel from the USS Callisto.”  –Listening intently, Aloysius certainly noticed something condescending in Calumn’s tone, telling him facts he already knew– “The Federation Council is in deliberation over the decision to either make first contact with the Vingellians, or to shut down the duck blind facility and leave the planet.  This is a critical time for Dr. Vigny and the rest of the research team. I made a commitment to my Chief of Security to see this mission through.”

After clearing his throat, Aloysius countered with, “That’s the point, Lieutenant.”  He reached across to tap the touch-sensitive display on the PADD.  The small print of the transfer orders scrolled across the display.  “You’ve been promoted to Chief of Security for yourself.  You have a new diplomatic mission and a new crew: the USS Achilles.  If you don’t catch the shuttle to your transport, the USS Tolstoy, you’ll miss your rendezvous with Achilles altogether.”

That, finally, made Calumn blink.

Calumn drummed his fingers on the arms of the chair. The prickling of his talons in the fabric was the only sound he produced; even his breathing was slow and mostly silent. “As committed as I am to this mission,” Calumn said, “I will grant you, the junior ranks within the security division are not always as… stimulating as my service as a novice Judge Advocate was. I grow weary of my ideas weighing less because of my position. Every starship schematic I have studied, every mindless patrol I walked, every extra hour of physical training has been in pursuit of serving a security department as chief. I want to mentor young officers on how to assess risk. I want to provide a crew the opportunity to serve their duties without fear.”  Calumn clasped the edges of the PADD between both of his hands and he pulled it close enough to read the first paragraph on its display.

Calumn blinked again and he looked up.  “…Is the infirmary available to fix my face?”

The doors pulled aside and Tumaini Calumn didn’t step in. It was force of habit for the Lieutenant to visually scan the room before he committed to enter an unfamiliar compartment. He didn’t stand impassive for terribly long, but there was a noticeable halt before he stepped through the doorway. In a couple of heartbeats, Tumaini assessed Sickbay to be without imminent risks: an assortment of biobeds and a medical personnel in their efficient dance, moving around the perimeter. The only risk he walked into was one of social anxiety.

Perhaps there was a differential in the life support exchange between compartments –or perhaps he hadn’t drunk any water that morning– but whatever the cause, Tumaini felt a tickle in his throat the minute he strode into Sickbay. In the holonovels, a character letting out a cough usually meant certain death. Similarly, a cough was never just a cough when being observed in Sickbay. Closing the distance to the nearest empty biobed, Tumaini took a deep breath and he swallowed the urge to cough. He refused to make a spectacle of himself. Clad in a Starfleet uniform much like anyone else, Tumaini sat himself on the foot on a biobed and folded his hands in his lap.

Claudia noticed the Lieutenant and set what she was working on down and approached him.  She looking over the top of her old fashioned glasses she inspected the young man sitting before her.  He appeared to the the pennical of health. “And what’s the matter with you young man?”

Something in Claudia’s question caused a little spark, and then a chain reaction, in Tumaini’s mind.  That racing thought was visible across his eyes when he opened his mouth, but he didn’t answer right away.  Any thought of the tickle in his throat, or even the tightness in his hips, floated away into the ether.  Leaning into his immediate curiosity, Tumaini replied with a question of his own.  “Is that a foregone conclusion, Commander?” Tumaini earnestly asked, as he met her gaze.  “Does the crew only seek you out when something terrible is the matter?”

“Not to put too fine of a point on it,  yes,” she replied.  “This is sickbay,  not a social club.  And call me Claudia, please.  Doctor will do in a pinch, but rank isn’t important to me and is more of a function of my time in service rather placement in this chain of command.”

Responding with a single, heavy nod in recognition, Tumaini said, “Claudia.  Yes,” and he offered a high-old Betazoid greeting that the universal translator shifted into, “How do you do?”  As before, there was a voice in the back of Tumaini’s mind that told him to introduce himself or explain his presence in Sickbay, but the words time in service rang in his ears too loudly.  He couldn’t ignore the ledge to which his curiosity was leading him.  It may not have been entirely obvious to a stranger, but Tumaini asked the question wide-eyed, all reverence and awe.  He said, “You really are very old to be in active service, aren’t you?”

She shook her head, “Niño tonto. Not so old I think.” She then conceeded,  “But, maybe for a human, but I am not the oldest.  Or at least not the oldest ever.  Didn’t your mama tell you it’s not polite to comment on a woman’s age?”

“My mama is Betazoid,” Tumaini replied, with a small shrug and a knowing wink.  He was intentional about using the same diminutive for mother.  “She already knew everybody’s ages,” he said, and then he blinked hard.  Tumaini heard himself saying the words, and couldn’t entirely remember how he’d ended up talking about his mother in Sickbay.  “But I’m Tumaini,” he said, flattening his palm on his chest; “I came aboard Achilles with the crew replacements and now I’m due for a physical exam.  I did come in with a reason other than to comment on your age, of course.”

“Aw, that would be why.”  She went to a computer terminal, asked a few key questions and pulled up his health records. “Any changes to family history,  or concerns I should know about?”

Tumaini nodded at Claudia’s question with a wry half-smile.  In the security division, injuries were a little more common than in other Starfleet occupations.  “My hips have been feeling tight.  I’ve noticed it especially when I’m squatting or lunging,” Tumaini said matter-of-factly.  “I was assigned to a protection detail on my last ship.  A lot of sitting and waiting… punctuated by moments of panic and running.”

She notated the information,  but didn’t offer any diagnosis.  Pushing the computer terminal away she picked up an old-fashioned stethoscope from a nearby tray and placed the bell into his chest gently in various key places listening to his heart and breathing.  She moved to his back and only gave him short commands on how she wanted him to breathe.   Satisfied she removed the stethoscope from her ears and wrapped the tubing around her neck and picked up his left wrist taking his pulse counting the heart beats carefully.

She released his wrist and nodded,  “Let your legs hang free over the bed please.”

Perched on the end of the biobed, Tumaini shifted his weight at Claudia’s command.  He continued to watch the good doctor’s ministrations and then he let his legs hang loosely.  Claudia arched an eyebrow as he observed Claudia, but for all his curiosity, he found her expressions inscrutable.

She then tapped the joints at a specific spot on his knees, first the left then the right. Each time there was an involuntary jump of the leg. “Good.”  She stepped back and picked up a medical tricorder and scanned him from top to bottom collecting a full metabolic panel,  other pertinent information including a cursory scan of his brain functions.

Stepping away from Tumaini she set the tricorder down and crossed her arms standing before him, “I could hear a little popping in your lungs.  Could be some excess mucus.  Have you been coughing?”

“No coughing, but I suppose I woke up feeling a little phlegmy,” Tumaini replied, offering Claudia a slow nod.  His dark eyes narrowed when he spoke again, his brows furrowing too, as concern clearly washed over him.  “I’ve been through the transporter biofilters, but my last assignment was on an alien planet.  Our– our science officers thought the environment was safe, but…”  –His gaze drifted into the middle distance– “Do I have Rigelian fever?”

“No, but we’ll want to watch that mucus.  It’s more than likely nothing.   Just your lungs adjusting to different environments.  But then it could be something more such as viral or bacterial. It also could an autoimmune disorder. Let’s not panic just yet. Other than that you look good.  No indication of cardiac arrhythmia, blood pressure, cholesterol, and glucose levels are all within normal ranges.  It appears there might be some arthritis developing in your hips and knees. We can address that later. But, for now,” she dug around in a nearby cart and pulled out a clear bottle half filled with white circular tablets, “take two every six hours as needed. They can be a little bitter so I would  afterwards. And above all, don’t ask your people to do something you wouldn’t do.”take them with water.”

Clasping the pill bottle between both of his hands, Tumaini acknowledged the instructions with a contrite, “Yes, doctor,” as if he’d done something wrong.  He braced his palms against the biobed, shifting his weight to stand up.  Before anything else happened, before he went anywhere, he hesitated.  His eyes were already on the doors out of sickay, when he said, “Achilles is going to be my first assignment as a department head, Claudia.  What advice could you offer in another pill bottle?”  At that question, Tumaini looked to her with hopeful eyes, and he shook the pill bottle like a small maraca.

She considered it for a moment.  “Always be consistent.  Don’t make exceptions.   Find your line in the sand and never cross it.  Make sure your people know where that line is, so when they do cross it and you come down on them they expect it, but always be fair. Listen before you speak.  Don’t be a boss, be a leader. Don’t do the work for your people,  and don’t micromanage them.  Expect them to get the job done and leave them alone to do it, but always follow up afterwards. Don’t ask your people to do something you wouldn’t do yourself. And above all never ever lie to your people or place blame on them.   You are their leader if they fail, it’s on your not them. You can pursue corrective actions after you’ve received your own licks.”

Listening to each of Claudia’s recommendations, Tumaini nodded in acknowledgement.  At the same time, his legs began to fidget from sitting for so long.  His eyes, though, his eyes remained with Claudia and her pearls of wisdom.  “I would be very proud to show up as even half the leader you describe on our first mission,” Tumaini said.  “Thank you kindly for both prescriptions.”

“I’d like to say that it will be easy, but unlike that aspirin,  leadership is a much harder pill to swallow.  Just like learning to walk you have to fall a few times before you figure it out.  But, if you have your people’s respect the good ones will forgive you. Now, I have work to do and I don’t get around like I used to.  Have a good day Mr.  Calumn.”

When the bands of blue light refracting across his field of vision faded, Lieutenant Tumaini Calumn was taken aback by the sight of the USS Achilles’ transporter room.  Taken aback, literally.  After materializing on the transporter platform, all the other crew replacements from the USS Tolstoy stepped down onto the deck.  Calumn, instead, took half a step back on the transporter pad.  This Ambassador-class transporter room was far larger, and brighter, than the ones on the Callisto or even the Tolstoy.  The transporter operator’s freestanding console was slimmer than the one’s he’d seen; as isolinear processing chips were being designed smaller and smaller.

Stepping forward, Calumn looked at the step down from the platform.  With his eyes on the down, he took a moment to check there were no crumbs on the red breast of his uniform jacket.  There weren’t any.  With his other new crewmates filing into the corridor, Calumn quietly asked the transporter operator if he had anything in his teeth.  When the transporter operator assumed him that he hadn’t, Calumn nodded a greeting, and shuffled out of the transporter room between the parting doors. 

Another set of doors pulled apart after the turbolift car had carried him to deck one.  Lieutenant Calumn stepped out onto the main bridge, his boot heels rapping against the deck.  Once again, he hesitated, overwhelmed by the clarity of the image on the viewscreen and the newest generation of blue and green LCARS graphics on all of the consoles.  Calumn sidled up to the officer at the tactical console, offering a solemn nod and brief pleasantries.  The tactical officer pointed out where Calumn could find the Captain, and sent him on his way.  “Good afternoon, Captain,” he said in his formal timbre.  “Lieutenant Tumaini Calumn reporting for duty.”

Looking up from her reading, the blonde Captain of the Ambassador-class surveyed the man before her momentarily before letting out a slight smile. “Welcome aboard, Lieutenant,” she welcomed him.

With a slow nod, Calumn replied with a, “Thank you kindly.”  A hundred different questions crossed his mind: questions about this new ship and crew, about the performance of her tactical systems in the shakedown, and about Captain Nazir, her career and experiences.  He’d read the official logs on her encounters with the Cardassians, but he knew the official logs were often only half the story.  Given their shared location, Calum restrained his questions to the current ship status.  “Are we still en route to the Cardassian border, Captain?” Calumn asked.  When he had boarded the Tolstoy, those had been the mission orders, but that had been days ago.

Gesturing for the seat opposite her, the Captain nodded and watched the man take his seat. “Unofficially, we are on patrol in the area,” she confirmed, “but unofficially, we’re on alert for any Cardassian movement. We’re not expecting any boarding action, but we will be going on away missions, and I will want security on every single one,” the Trill instructed, sliding some orders across the table to her chief of security.

Calumn nodded his acknowledgement of Nazir’s intentions.  After clasping the PADD between his hands, Calum took a cursory look at the orders, scrolling through the main points on the display.  “May I ask about the optics Starfleet Command would like us to present, Captain?” Calumn asked, as he took one last look at the orders.  Raising his eyes to Nazir, the curiosity in his dark irises was plain to see.  He tilted his head and he added, “Should we present an appearance of to trust the Cardassians, or will we select our away teams to appear well-defended?”

“The Cardassians are our friends, Lieutenant,” Keziah told with all the sincerity and believability of an Andorian sunbathing on Risa. It told the man all he needed to know, or so she hoped.

Meeting Keziah’s eyes, Calumn nodded at her choice of words without blinking.  He affected a casual air, when he said, “I can be friendly.  I know how to smile and to curtsey.  And phasers are smaller than ever.”  He paused between each statement to give each one its due import, especially as his timbre became increasingly wry.  He squinted before he continued, but he only hesitated for another moment more.  “Captain,” he asked, “would you mind if I ask you a personal question about leadership?”

At this point, the spotted woman shifted her stance, and demeanour, sitting forward in her chair and clasping her hands together on the table top. “Please do, Lieutenant,” she smiled. So far, his openness was impressing her. It was a stark difference to other members of the fledgling crew. Her standoffish manner probably didn’t help with that, though.

As brief preamble, Calumn shared with her, “I know about myself that semantics matter to me.  Occasionally they matter too much, but they never control me.”  He also explained, “In my new role as security chief, I will be responsible for representing the interests of Starfleet Security, along with my own perspective, and sometimes those may be two different things.  I will strive to share both when it’s important.”  He hesitated momentarily, self-conscious that this was turning into a Starfleet Academy lecture, but he took a breath and pushed on.  “What I’m asking is,” he said more quickly, “when we find ourselves in the friendliest of situations, how can I best observe the difference between when, as our Captain, you’re open to more suggestions versus when you’ve made a decision decision.”

Nazir smirked as she sat back in her chair and relaxed. “When I need suggestions, I’ll ask for them Lieutenant. Until I do, its safe to say that whatever I’ve said is my final decision on a matter,” she assured him, “the only person who ever gets to question my orders, and they do so in private, is the XO.” With that, she rose from her chair and walked around the desk. “You’ve got a couple of pay grades to go before you earn that right,” she smiled, offering a hand to the man. “Welcome aboard, Chief. You’re going to fit right in.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Calumn said more warmly.  He accepted her handshake as he stood.  In an undertone, he added, “That means a lot to me.  I’m excited to begin.”

It was dark, quiet, and very cool. As the doors closed behind him sealing off the light coming in from the corridor and leaving him standing in the entrance to the main astrometrics labs, looking at the wall-to-wall consoles and displays being manned by various members of the astrometrics team. He was, however, looking for a very specific individual, Ensign Kiaol, the teams only Caitian.

Spotting her at one of the main consoles Varrik began to make his way towards her. His hands were folded behind his back, one of the new data PADDs securely clasped in his left hand. As he approached her he glanced around the labs, taking in the various things he was seeing, and marking those which were of an intriguing nature for him to look into more closely when the progress reports for the projects were submitted.

Finally approaching her station he stopped an appropriate distance away and then spoke, "Ensign Kiaol, may I have a moment of your time?"

Dazia couldn't help but roll her eyes as the Chief of her department interrupted her analysis of the cloud of stellar debris that had, for reasons unbeknown to anyone, appeared around the third planet in the Xendi Sabu system. She was just starting to get somewhere! Pressing pause on her analysis so that she didn't miss anything crucial, the pale coloured Caitian turned on her heels. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

Noting the tone of the woman's voice, and the body language she was employing, likely subconsciously, Varrik had to suppress his urge to raise an accusatory eyebrow. He had heard she had a bit of a temper and could be somewhat feisty at times, and apparently that information had been quite correct. Turning his attention back to the reason he was here, he brought the PADD out from behind his back, holding it out to her.

Once she had taken it he began to explain, "I understand that your duties ensure you are busy, Ensign, and that you already have a project you are working on, however, you are also the most qualified team member when it comes to gaseous anomalies. I have just received word that we will be passing incredibly close to one in the coming days. I request that you put together a small team, get some probes ready, and get a station set up so you can study it effectively," he said.

"From what I have been made privy to, it seems to be fairly unusual. Starfleet is wanting as thorough an investigation as we can supply. There is even talk of sending a science vessel out to study it depending on what our study finds. I have seen initial scientists pulled to head up such assignments before, so that is not outside of the realms of possibility if you find something truly impressive," he finished.

"That'll be..." she paused as she noted the expression on her superior's face, and also channelled the reminders of her parents when she had told them of her intentions to join Starfleet. Patience and tolerance would be virtues required in extreme amounts on a Federation starship. Instead of her intended response, the Cardassian nodded slowly, "that'll be exciting sir. I'll put a team together immediately."

"Thank you, Ensign. Now, before you do that, please, tell me how you are finding your time here on the Achilles? Are you happy with your assignment? Is there anything I can do, short of interrupting your work, to make things easier for you?" he asked, in a truly un-Vulcan like way.

'Ah, crap!’ she cursed inwardly; not only had he rumbled her irritation and was now mocking her for it, but he was acting in a very peculiar manner when doing so. It was time for her to make amends in the eyes of her superior or her assignment to the Achilles would probably be quite brief. "Don't get me wrong sir, I am loving my time on the Achilles, and as a member of your department specifically, it's just..." she trailed off as sat back on the edge of her console and folded her arms across her chest in a protective stance, "every time it seems like I'm going to get my research done, or I'm going to complete a project, something else comes along. Like last week, for example. What was supposed to be a quiet time where I could get my research done, was interrupted by Petty Officer Jackson hogging all of our sensor time," she moaned, no doubt sounding like a petulant child in the process.

Waving his hand to the console Varrik asked, "May I join you?", and then leaned against the console as well, hands clasped at his waist. Looking out over the room he pondered how best to address this with the woman beside him. Finally, looking over at her he nodded, "I understand your frustrations, Ensign. You have every right to be frustrated. Such disturbances are, however, par for the course when one first begins their career. Especially if they show talent. When I first started out as a science officer, I too found it… frustrating. I would get something started, and suddenly something else would be reassigned to me. Suddenly the old project would have to be put aside. Sometimes I never got to revisit them. Sometimes they got reassigned. But do you know what I discovered?" he asked, and waited for her to reply.

"That once you became Chief you had your pick of the assignments?" she smirked as she loosened up a little. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all?

Varrik gave the woman a sideways glance and then shook his head, “What I discovered was that so long as I was able to contribute in any way, even if it was not as the person who got to start and finish a project, it still allowed me to be of service. Once I realized that, it got a little easier to accept that sometimes I would not get to do exactly what I might want, or get to be the main contributor on a project. It let me understand that my work mattered, and I was still doing important work to further the knowledge of the Federation."

"But I want to do a doctorate," she admitted to him, the first time she had told anyone of her desire to fully commit to the sciences for the rest of her career. "To do that, I need to start and complete research and studies. If I never get chance to do them now, it'll be too hard when I come to do my doctorate," she frowned sadly. She had been in love with science since the first time she had scanned the stars with her fathers telescope and it made her sad to think that she'd struggle to get where she so longed to be.

Varrik gave her a sympathetic look. He knew exactly how she felt, and he was very glad to know he had someone on his team that had such a drive to succeed and reach her goals. Or he would have had it not been for the pointed ears. "How about this? Ensure you continue to work hard, keep focused, and I will ensure that you get as many assignments as I can that you will be able to complete. Is that agreeable to you?" he asked.

"Thank you sir," she nodded in acceptance, "I'd appreciate it." Perhaps the Vulcan wasn't so bad after all?

Moving to stand back up, Varrik nodded, "Very well.  Should you need any further assistance, I will be located in my quarters," he said with a simple nod.

"Why is it that most scientists are... what was it my father said?" she mused, before a light bulb moment triggered by a memory, "ah, yes! Antisocial gits..." she added. "Something he learnt from the Federation Ambassador if I remember rightly," she smirked.

"Unknown. I think it is because that particular personality quirk makes it easier for our colleagues to be dispassionate about things, and look at them more logically. Scientists are not as sentimental, so the social niceties often elude us, or seem silly. That is just my hypothesis, however," Varrik said, answering the question.

"And a sound one I am sure, sir," the Caitian grinned before sheepishly pointing to her research. "I should get back to this before it gets delegated elsewhere..." she trailed off, waiting for permission from her superior.

"By all means, Ensign," Varrik replied with a nod, and then turned to leave.

Dazia watched the Lieutenant leave and, when she was content that she was alone again, she let out a sigh and shook her head as she turned back to her research. If she ever got promoted, she would make sure she got all the best assignments. But, for now, she was the junior and she’d just have to hope that whoever picked up where she left off would be competent enough to finish her task.

Then, of course, there was the fact that her superior never ceased to shock her. If she hadn’t known better, she would have almost believed he wasn’t who he said he was…

August 1st, 2347 1100 Hrs

He was sitting in the temporary quarters aboard the USS Adriatic as he awaited for the rendezvous that would happen with the USS Achilles. Cathmor sighed as he let a large hand run through the thick locks of his brown hair, his new home would be her engine room. The hum of the Adriatic was peaceful but his own thoughts were anything but, he finally put down the PADD the schematics that he had been tirelessly reviewing for the past several days blinked out. He almost knew everything that he had been able to get his hands on of the ship he would be posted to, a habit born of a thirst to learn. Pushing himself away from the pristine desk he looked himself over in the mirror, his uniform was perfect, the Star Fleet arrowhead pinned to his chest, the rank of ensign displayed proudly, and his black pants did not have a strand or fleck on them. He had wanted to look nothing if not perfectly presentable to his Chief of Engineering.

Cathmor was not left alone with his thoughts for very long though, he heard a chirp that informed him that someone outside of the ship was trying to contact him. Answering it by pressing the flashing button with a forefinger the image of a fresh Senior Cadet of Starfleet Academy appeared in front of him, the human females long black hair was tied up in a bun as she smiled at him. 

“Samantha” He let out his own smile show and felt his shoulders relax slightly at the sight of his old friend. 

“Hey, I don’t have much time” she paused her features slightly shimmering with her movements “Just ran out of class really quick and have to get back but wanted to get in touch with you before you officially took your first assignment” she used a long finger to brush some of her black hair out of her face “How are you feeling?” she finally asked. Her eyes watched as his body tensed up again, he could tell that she was trying to read his every body movement looking for anything that might show something he would not say.

“I’m…” he stopped to collect himself “I am nervous, but I will be fine” he smiled trying not to think about the fact that he still wished that his father had lived long enough to have this call with him instead of one of his friends, life is unfair but it is what it is. His green eyes met her blue ones and he put up his most charismatic smile “I am also very excited, ready to get back into an engine room it’s been too long.”

This comment caused the woman to laugh “there is the gear head I am used to seeing, look though” she suddenly turned serious “You will do great, I am proud of you and your dad would have been too. I know his death still bothers you but he would be so proud of what you’ve accomplished.” Cathmor felt his heart plummet to his stomach at the mention of his father who had died a year prior to his graduation from the Academy. “The USS Achilles is an amazing ship and you will do her proud I know but I have to get back to class keep in touch though.” 

With those last words she gave him a smile and wave before her image shimmered away.

“Always do.” he whispered to the now empty space before him. It did not take long before he was back to pacing the floor of the room, his black boots thudding softly against the flooring as he thought about what his father Leo would have told him today. Honestly probably much the same as Samantha had, that he was proud of him for his hard work and his assignment. He would be the Assistant Chief Engineering Officer aboard an Ambassador-Class star ship, something anyone fresh out of the Academy would be proud of. Sitting on the bed he started to go over reporting to the Achilles, what he would say to his new Lieutenant once he was able to report in. Cathmor was so lost in his own thoughts that when the door alarm for the room went off he almost jumped out of his own skin. “Open” he called out.

The automatic doors opened with the typical swooshing sound of space ships mechanics. In walked a smiling Commander, she was the XO of the Adriatic “Ma’am” came out of his mouth with the ease born of years of well-groomed training. 

“Ensign Langston” she said with a warm and easy natured smile “It’s time for you to start heading to the transporter room we are less than fifteen minutes from our rendezvous location.”   

“Thank you ma’am.” Cathmor said turning and grabbing his PADD and his Starfleet issued duffel bag that had the few personal items and uniforms that he was bringing with him. Anything else he may need he could acquire on bored. The Commander had not stayed to escort him to the transporter room, in fact he was surprised that she had even come to tell him that they were close to the rendezvous location at all, having expected to be hailed there via the ships coms officer. He did not spend time worrying too much about the oddity though as he was walking through the ship trying to remember the way he needed to go to get to the transporter room. It was not long before he arrived there though priding himself in only having to ask for directions once. Having never before been on a Miranda class he was not at all familiar with their layout though her engine capabilities on the other hand were quite well known to him. Growing up there had not been many technical publications he had not devoured about ships and the Miranda class ships where far from classified in nature when it came to a curious son of the Chief of Engineering. The doors to the transport room opened for him inside the Able Crewman that was at the controls gave him a nod before saying “About five minute’s sir and we should have conformation to beam you over to the Achilles.” 

Taking a deep calming breath and smiling “Thanks” he responded. The minutes ticked by slowly as the crew continued to work around him everyone seeming at home in their spot and with their crew members. He found himself hoping that he would be able to find his own spot and get along with his crew just as smoothly. Not that he had ever had any issues making friends, in fact it had always come to him as naturally as breathing. Now though he found himself looking at going to a new ship, with no safety net, being just moments from meeting people that he would be serving with and beside for the foreseeable future. The thought was both at once terrifying and exhilarating on one hand he did not want to make a fool of himself or somehow mess something up. On the other hand this was the fruition of everything that he had ever worked hard for.

As Cathmor continued to hang onto that one nugget of information, the fact that his whole life had been spent achieving this one dream, the feeling of the uniform on his body felt less restrictive and more liberating as he had always hoped that it would. He could feel his heart rate slowing back down to acceptable ranges.

“Sir, we are dropping in next to the Achilles they are ready for you if you will just step up onto the pad”   

Nodding he took confident steps up onto the transporter pad, standing in one of the designated areas he stood tall, his full six foot frame on display as he readied himself. “Energize” before the word fully left his lips he could feel himself being transported away to his new life.

In mere moments the view changed from an older, and slightly cramped, Miranda class transport room to the new, spacious, and occupied Achilles transporter room. As he took in the room he saw an Andorian female in engineering colors with the rank of lieutenant was visible on her uniform. His hand gripped his bag a little tighter until she smiled at him.

 “Ensign, I am Lieutenant Endrik the interim Chief of Engineering until such a time as a permeant billeting can be arranged.” After introducing herself she did not wait for him to say anything but turned and walked away in such a manner that Cathmor felt it implied to follow.

“Chief what do you mean interim has no permanent Chief been assigned yet?”

“Well you see Langston I was part of the shakedown run, I helped build the engine room and many of the sub systems of this ship. That being so I was put here during the shakedown since I knew the most of how the Achilles works. Now that she has been cleared for duty though I will be needed back at the shipyard.” She paused just long enough to see him nod at the logic of this move by Starfleet command before continuing towards the lift. “That makes my one goal while I am here to make sure you understand everything on this ship so that you can be as helpful and valuable to your new Chief as possible when he or she finally arrives.”

He had of coursed hoped that he would be meeting and working with the same Chief for a few years to come but the opportunity to learn from the woman that literally built the core of the internals of the ship. No matter how brief this mentorship might be it would most certainly be invaluable for his career and learning.

“Of course.” he finally said “I want nothing more than to learn everything that I can.” he started to list off the things that he already had learned about the ship. Cathmor definitely detected a hint of a smile of Lieutenant Endrik’s face before she spoke.

“No one likes a show off ensign.” she paused just long enough for his heart to drop in his chest a little but she saved him before he could start sputtering that he was not trying to. “Though I am glad to see that you have done some research it will make this process much easier on the both of us.” 

The rest of the trip was mostly in silence before they stopped above a numbered room. “This will be your quarters, take the day to familiarize yourself with the ship if you need anything reach out to me or anyone else in engineering. We take care of our own but anyone else is more than helpful as well.” She laughed good naturedly as she left him to let himself in.

He put his palm out onto the screen, his biometrics had apparently already been loaded into the computers main databanks. The doors slid open letting him into a cozy room that had two beds in it, two neat white work stations, and personal space as well. There was no one else in the room though he could tell that someone else did live there. Another engineer perhaps, he tossed his bag onto the bed watching it sink onto the mattress. The name of the ship was printed onto the sheets and pillowcase. 

Laying his hand on the bed he let it glide across the fabric doing his best to commit this whole moment to his memory. He had made it, granted it may have been a path different than he had expected, but he had still made it to where he needed to be.

Tumaini Calum’s Personal Log, Stardate 24582.6

 

The past week, I keep having variations on the same dream.  I’m like a bird, flying through cavernous, labyrinthine structures.  Sometimes it’s an amalgamation of the schools I attended on Betazed; other times it’s a patchwork nightmare of a spacedock masquerading as Starbase 42.  My time spent undercover, on Vingel IX, has clearly left me preoccupied with bird imagery.  It startled me, every time I saw myself in the mirror, when I was preparing myself in that duck blind.  I couldn’t recognize myself.  Even my eyes, they looked like they belonged to someone else in the mirror.

 

Every morning, the dream ends the same way.  A snake drops from above me and it coils around my neck.  I wake up in a sweat, an hour before my alarm.  The snake represents…  well, I don’t need a ship’s doctor to tell me I’m preoccupied by the threat of the Cardassians, as we approach their border.  There’s so little we know about them for certain.  Half our intel is little more than rumours, but I need to be prepared somehow.  Aboard the USS Tolstoy, I found myself reading academy textbooks again.  I was looking for techniques and strategies for diplomacy, security, leadership.  USS Achilles is my first posting as a department head.  Today is my first day.  My first.  “Leaders must possess an unclouded vision of what’s ahead.”  I know so, because I read it on a PADD.

Tumaini Calumn cleared his throat.  “Computer,” he said, “strike that last statement.  I sound childish.”

Until I survive long enough, grow my own instincts, all I can do is train myself to repeat habits.  Awkwardly practice what I’ve seen in textbooks, or what my mentors have done before me.  When I introduced myself to my team, I could hear my last security chief talking.  I didn’t mean to do it, but I imitated some of his phrases.  I think I even imitated his accent at one point?   I have to trust the process.  My own style will come with time.  But I haven’t found it yet.

 

My academy refreshers tell me I must foresee possible outcomes and unexpected consequences.  This is why I end up reading about the Cardassians before bed every night.  At least: every Starfleet file on the Cardassians within my security clearance.  I’ve been reading up on the Cardassians and all of the new tactical systems developed for Ambassador-class starships.  Honestly… I find tactical systems inherently dull, but I’m going to fake it.  My lessons remind me I can only achieve excellence through “concentrated enthusiasm and devotion”.  I can fake excitement about photon torpedos, can’t I?

 

The Achilles is due to ship out to the edges of Federation space, where it borders along Cardassian space.  Before we head out, we have to head in.  We’re en route to a new starbase, just outside the Betazed system.  Home.  I doubt there will be time to see family, but heading in, before heading out… There’s a symmetry to that.  It’s something cyclical.  Hopefully, that will bring us luck.

 

End log.

Eline purposefully walked over the Starfleet insignia engraved onto the floor at Starfleet Command, waving to a few friends she knew from her previous time at Command Headquarters. She had a meeting at 11 am (local time) with Admiral Eruzione and she was running slightly behind. The USS Bellingham, the Miranda-class starship she had caught a ride out of Starbase 110, had been delayed in its approach to Spacedock Earth and consequently, it was about 10:58 am as she strode across the Starfleet logo on the floor. She knew she was late, and was walking briskly through. Due to her time at Command headquarters, she knew the way through to the executive offices, and after a few turns, she saw the office she was looking for. She knocked on the door, and entered the lobby of the fleet commander’s office. Ensign Strobel, the Admiral’s aide-de-camp, was on duty, and when he saw the Lieutenant enter, he stood up at attention.
“At ease, Ensign, I’m just a Lieutenant. I’m Lt. Eline Liebenberg, here to see Admiral Eruzione, as ordered.”
“Good to see you Lieutenant Liebenberg. I’ll inform the Admiral you’re reporting as ordered. Please, have a seat. He’ll be right out.”
“Thanks, Ensign.”
With that, she takes a seat, and begins reflecting on the past two years. Her first deep-space assignment wasn’t what she had expected it to be, but she had done a lot of good work. She hoped secretly within that the new assignment was going to be close to Earth, so that she could spend some more time with her partner. She loved being assigned to a starship, but her heart was here on Earth, and so, she hoped that she was coming back. She was sprung out of her reverie by the sound of the office doors opening. She stood instinctually as Admiral Eruzione stepped out of his office, a smile gracing his face. She smiled as she stuck out her hand.
“Lieutenant Eline Liebenberg, reporting as ordered, Admiral.”
“Very good, Eline. Why don’t you come into my office so we can talk about your next assignment.”
“Of course, Admiral.” She steps into his office, and waits for him to motion for her to sit down. He motions to one of the chaises that he keeps in his office, on the other side of his desk. “Please, have a seat. We have much to talk about.”
She takes a seat, and crosses her legs. “Well, Admiral, what’s going on? Am I coming back to Command HQ?”

The Admiral considers her questions and imperceptibly shakes his head negatively. “Eline…you’re not coming back to Command. I’m sorry. I know you had expressed a desire previously to come back to JAGCOM (the acronym for the JAG division at Starfleet Command), but Starfleet needs you out there. You did a lot of good work on the Cairo, and her Captain spoke very highly of you. Therefore, I guess the first piece of news is that you’re getting a promotion to Lieutenant Commander. I have your insignia here.” He holds up a little metal box engraved with the Starfleet arrowhead. He opens it, and it’s the Lieutenant Commander rank insignia inside the box.
“Stand at attention, Lieutenant Liebenberg.”
Eline immediately stands at attention. The Admiral picks up the insigina and takes it out of the box, then stands up to face her.
“For your dedication and efforts as the Staff Judge-Advocate onboard the USS Cairo, and for the exemplary work that you have cumulatively performed in service to Starfleet and the United Federation of Planets, I hereby promote you to the rank of Lieutenant Commander, with all the rights, privileges, and responsibilities therein.” He takes the rank insignia, and after removing her Lieutenant insignia, pins it on her. “Congratulations, Lieutenant Commander Liebenberg!” He takes a step back and nods. “At ease, Lieutenant Commander. You can have a seat again.”

Eline smiles, and stands easy. She waits for the Admiral to sit down first, then she takes a seat.“Admiral, what IS my new assignment? I assume I’m getting a new post?”
Admiral Eruzione nods, and grabs a PAAD. He hands the PAAD to Eline. As she begins reading, he begins briefing her.
“I’m not sure if you were able to hear the new developments, as you were in deep space. The FNS reported on the news, and we sent a message to all starships, but not everyone was able to hear the news. A few weeks ago, we finally signed a peace treaty with the Klingon Empire. The Khitomer Accords lay out the terms of a Federation-Klingon alliance, and for the first time, the Federation President is hosting the Klingon Chancellor here on Earth.”
As the Admiral speaks, Eline realizes that she had heard about it, but she didn’t give it the importance it deserved. In her defense, it was only a blurb in the news report, and she was busy with a case at the time and hadn’t really read more about it. Having been posted to Space Station K-7 and having been on the front lines of hostilities between the Federation and the Klingons, it was a momentous occasion. The Captain threw a party, but she hadn’t attended. She was genuinely surprised, and pleased that those hostilities were over. The Admiral continued; “Therefore, we’re shifting our focus to another one of our neighbors. The Cardassian Union has been starting to ramp up hostilities, and we’ve seen some minor border raids coming across to outposts in that sector. Starfleet has been tasked with keeping the peace, and I think you would be a good addition to that effort. We launched a new class of starship, the Ambassador class, to replace the Constitution class.”
When Eline heard new class of starship, she groaned internally. ‘Great, another starship posting. I’m going to be gone for God knows how many years, and yet…it sounds like I’m going to be working diplomatic angles. Babysitting delegates. Eh, easy enough. At least it’ll be short.’
“After the prototype was brought into service and commissioned, construction started on a few new ships. One of them launched a few weeks ago with a skeleton crew, though Command has been slowly working on filling its roster with capable officers. The USS Achilles, I believe.”
Eline reads the PAAD: Lt. Commander Eline Liebenberg, by the authority vested in Admiral Gregory Eruzione by the President of the United Federation of Planets and the Chief of Staff of Starfleet, you are ordered to report to Capt. Keziah Nazir, of the USS Achilles, to serve as the Executive Officer of the USS Achilles. 
Her eyes go wide. “Admiral, you’re assigning me as the Executive Officer? I’m not…I’m not qualified for this!” “Eline, you’re more than qualified. At the Academy, you were one of the top students, and your work in JAG has been exemplary. You’ve earned this.” Eline slowly nods, accepting the new post. “First Officer of a brand new starship. I can live with that. It’ll be a fun adventure. So…what happens next?”
“The Achilles has been dispatched to Starbase 211, and it is due to arrive in the next few days. After we’re done here, you’ll have leave for a few days, then you’ll report to the USS Johannesburg for the trip to Starbase 211. The Johannesburg should arrive about a day after the Achilles, so that’ll give you a smooth transition. Your commanding officer will be Captain Keziah Nazir. She’s still a new CO so that should make your transition period slightly easier.”
At this, Eline breathes a sigh of relief. At least she can go home for a few days, and relax with her partner.
“Thank you Admiral. I appreciate that. When should I report to the Johannesburg?”
“It’ll be encoded in your orders. I know you have family you’d like to see, so I set aside a shuttle that you can pilot home and then up to Spacedock Earth. It’s going to be waiting for you in the Shuttle yard here at headquarters. Just tell the yard supervisor, and he’ll point you to your shuttle.”
Eline smiles, then stands at attention. “If that’s all sir…”
“That will be all. Make us proud out there. Dismissed!”
The Admiral stands up, and Eline walks out of his office. She gives a nod of acknowledgement to  Ensign Strobel, and heads off in the direction of the Shuttle yard, eager to spend some time with her partner in Springfield.

Eline piloted her shuttle through the atmosphere on her way to Starbase Earth. She had spent a relaxing few days with her partner and her family, and she was ready to continue serving Starfleet. She spoke to planetary control, and found out that the Johannesburg had already undocked from space dock and was currently in orbit, taking on last minute supplies. She had left slightly late, but it was worth it. As she left Earth’s atmosphere, she witnessed the daily movement of starships in and out of Earth’s orbit; some heading to distant points, others coming back from deployment, and still others being tried and tested.
“Earth planetary control, Shuttle 2 request vector to USS Johannesburg.”
“Shuttle 2, heading 221 mark 5, watch traffic at 5, 3, and 10 o’clock. How copy?”
“Heading 221 mark 5, watch traffic on several points, Shuttle 2.”
She deftly moved her hands over the controls, and the shuttle effortlessly glides in the right direction until she can see the Johannesburg.
“Shuttle 2, contact USS Johannesburg for approach and landing instructions.”
“Copy that, have a good one Control.” She taps the console and changes the channel. “USS Johannesburg, this is Shuttle 2 on approach. Request vector for final and docking.”
“Shuttle 2, use Shuttle-bay 2; once you’re aboard we’re going to depart the system. You’re bound for Starbase 211, correct?”
“That is correct…transferring to the Achilles. But it should be a fun trip.”
“Indeed. Whenever you’re ready.” Eline brings the shuttle in to a smooth landing in the bay. As soon as she powers down and opens the door, she notices the main shuttle-bay door is shut, and on the deck is an Ensign.
“Lt. Commander Liebenberg, welcome aboard the Johannesburg. I’m your escort around the ship for the duration of your stay here. We should be to Starbase 211 in about 40 hours. The Johannesburg is a Centaur-class ship; small but necessary for the fleet.”
“Thank you Ensign. I assume the Captain will want to meet with me?”
“Yes. You can leave your bags aboard the shuttle. We’ll handle the arrangements. In the meantime, if you’d follow me?”
“Of course, lead the way.” Eline smiles politely and follows the Ensign, unsure of what this new adventure will bring.

As Eline is relaxing in her quarters, she hears the com-channel chime softly, and she presses the panel. “Lieutenant Commander Liebenberg here.”“Lieutenant Commander, this is Lieutenant Hatfield, the deck officer on watch. We’re about 30 minutes from Starbase 211. The USS Achilles has already arrived and is in orbit around the Starbase. We’re going to enter the pattern shortly, and then we can transfer personnel. Would you like to transfer ship to ship, or transfer directly to the station, and board one of the Achilles’ shuttles?”
Eline thinks for a moment, unsure of which one to choose. “I’ll transfer directly to the Achilles. It may be easier and faster. And I can always visit the station later.”
“Very good. I’ll send you a message when you need to report to the shuttle-bay.”
“Thank you. Close channel.”
Eline yawned, and started her morning routine. She had a nice window view as the Starbase came into view, with a brand new Ambassador class starship orbiting. Though there was room inside for the ship, the Achilles was just orbiting around. It was a beautifully designed ship, and it looked…new.
“Bridge to Lieutenant Commander Liebenberg. Report to the Shuttle-bay. The Achilles is standing by to receive you.”
“Liebenberg acknowledged. Be there shortly. Thank you for your hospitality.”
She packs her bags and heads back to the Shuttle-bay. There, she places her bags inside the shuttle, and boards. At the controls is the same Ensign that had greeted her in the same place when she had come aboard. The hatch closes, and the shuttle takes off for the Achilles.

As they approach, Eline has an opportunity to take a detailed look at the newest starship in the fleet. It looks like an improved version of the Constitution class, with the two nacelles lower than the previous version. The saucer section looked bigger, and it was actually dotted with windows; Eline thought it almost looked like braille. Her nacelles glowed blue, and the bussard collectors glowed red. All in all, the Ambassador class starship was a beautiful addition to Starfleet, and Eline took a moment just to admire the new ship before her thoughts turned to duty. The shuttle approached the shuttle-bay, and after a brief communication with the bridge, the shuttle docks. The hatch opens, and Eline steps out onto the shuttle-bay of the USS Achilles. She’s finally here. And it is overwhelming. She takes a deep breath, and approaches the deck officer, as her bags are taken off the shuttle.
“Lieutenant Commander Eline Liebenberg, reporting for duty as the Executive Officer for the USS Achilles.”
“Confirmed. Your transfer orders?”
Eline hands him the PAAD containing the transfer orders from Admiral Eruzione. “Here you go.”
He receives it, and reads it, then nods. “Orders are confirmed and approved. Welcome aboard, Lieutenant Commander. Before you are assigned your cabin…Captain Nazir would like a word with you in the conference room.”
She nods, and asks “Where is the conference room?”
“Deck One, off of the bridge. It’s technically the observation lounge, but it’s the conference room.”
“Thanks, Lieutenant.”
“You’re welcome.” Eline heads off, entering the ship. It has the ‘brand new starship smell’ and the corridors are so shiny and neat. She soon found the turbolift and entered. “Deck 1.”
It began to move upwards, and soon the doors opened, and she saw the bridge. There were several officers milling about, and once she stepped off, she walked up to one, and asked where the observation lounge is. After being pointed in the right direction, she walks up to the right doors, and takes a deep breath before entering. ‘This is happening,’ she thinks to herself. ‘You’re the First Officer now.’ She approaches the doors and waits for them to open, then walks in.

The way he had to fold his body within the cramped confines of the jeffries tube, Calumn was thankful for all those yoga lessons back on the USS Callisto.  Sat with his legs crossed atop the horizontal grating, Lieutenant Tumaini Calumn was hunched forward, halfway inside where he’d opened an access panel.  A tricorder sat open on his lap, humming away, while he poked at a line with the tip of a coil spanner.  As the Chief Security Officer, Calumn was certain that line was one of the primary trunks of the electro plasma system.  Either it was that or it was a phaser sensor line.  One or the other, he was certain of it.  What he didn’t know were the consequences of opening a maintenance hatch unexpectedly.

***

Cathmor was sitting at one of the stations in engineering familiarizing himself with his future duties. Looking through the systems he saw a flashing ping in one of the jeffries tubes, that was odd. He deftly opened up the screen on the terminal to see if there were any maintenance teams scheduled in that area. After a few moments he was able to determine that there most defiantly no teams out in the ship at the moment. ‘Well guess I will go investigate before dinner’ he thought to himself as he pushed himself away and started to walk to the location.

After a few minutes of walking and only having to check the map a few times he arrived at the open access hatch, poking his head up and in he saw what was easiest to describe as someone that was folded into some odd yoga pose. “Umm can I help you with anything?”  he asked in a voice that he hoped would not startle the man who was prodding at the insides of the ship.

From inside the phaser maintenance conduit, Tumaini Calumn called out, “No, thank you.  I’ve maintained phasers before…”  He tapped his coil spanner on the vehicle frame a couple of times and then he sat back, popping his head out.  Calumn looked in Cathmor’s direction and he blinked twice.  The placid expression on his face didn’t change.  “That was my ego talking.  The Callisto had type-eight phasers.  They were designed without independent power systems,” Calumn said.  “I could very much use your advice.”

Cathmor was a little shocked at the response at first until the man poked his head out to look at him, the lack of expression caused him to smile momentarily before responding. “Yes, lieutenant.” His eyes darted to see his rank and the red colored backing on his uniform “Would be beneficial for the Chief of Security to understand how this particular system works. I have limited experience with them myself, but I have read all about them and would be happy to pass on what knowledge I have.”  Without waiting for a response, he smiled and continued “I am Cathmor Langston by the way, engineering.”

Calumn tilted his head in a welcoming gesture, inviting Cathmor to see into the maintenance hatch he’d opened.  Calumn slid his body to the left, making more room for Cathmor too, in the cramped tube.  “I’m Tumaini Calumn.  It’s a pleasure to meet you, ensign,” he said.  “I’ve just arrived today.  Thought I should get to know this ship before we arrive at the Cardassian border.”

It took a moment but Cathmor was able to arrange himself comfortably enough next to Calumn. “Well that makes two of us I only arrived okay myself. I actually do not entirely know what our mission is, just the briefest idea from connecting to the ships terminal.” He took a look at the phaser before him, “Anyway though, you always want to start with securing power so that nothing can accidentally go off. Something like that should not happen, chances less than one percent, but never zero.” He chuckled to himself as he pointed out how to do just that. 

Calumn’s dark eyes followed the spots where Cathmor had pointed.  Reaching into the maintenance access with his spanner, Calumn confirmed that this segment of the phaser array had been de-energized by the computer and then he further pushed the manual levers that locked out the electroplasma submitter flow regulators – physically blocking the flow of electroplasma from coming anywhere near this equipment.  Starting from the very beginning, Calumn explained, “I ran a diagnostic on the phasers from the tactical console on the bridge.  I’ll admit, I was curious about the ability to apply different charges to different emitter segments.” –Calumn waggled a finger at the segments accessible in this maintenance hatch– “…I don’t know if it’s something I did, but the internal sensors warned of a misfire between the physical iris and the magnetic switching gate in this EPS submitter flow regulator. They won’t operate in sequence, cutting off these phaser emitters from the plasma distribution manifold.”

Having watched as Calumn worked he knew everything was secure and there was now no chance of any injury happening to himself or the Chief of Security. He listened with interest as the issue with the was described to him, his brain started to run through any and all things that could cause this type of issue. “Huh, misfiring is supposed to be very rare, it could just be an issue with the gate. Something in the coding that is making the gate stay closed when it’s supposed to be open. Kind of like running into a locked door energy would stop, if the gate opened late energy release would cause the misfire. Mind if I look?”  He asked holding his hand out for the tricorder “Sorry I do not have any equipment yet only been on the ship for six hours now, technically not supposed to start my rounds until tomorrow.” He said a little sheepishly. 

“What’s mine is yours, ensign,” Calumn breezily replied, even before Cathmor had finished saying the words.  He handed over the tricorder easily, supposing it would be of more use in the engineer’s hands anyway.  Watching Cathmor with curious eyes, Calumn said, “You said you’ve just arrived.  Where were you posted before Achilles then?”

As soon as the piece of equipment was in his hands he switched the function to scan for any coding errors and started to scan the gate. “Appreciate it“ he responded brows furrowed as he started to inspect the data that was displaying onto the screen. “This is actually my first posting out of the academy, so before this I did a few cruises on training ships but no real posting.” His response held no real emotion as he was distracted by his analysis. The test was about eighty percent done before it flagged an error, “That’s odd the system seems corrupted at the gate. Which was the only thing that made sense but how would it have happened. When looking at the system you didn’t open the coding panel from the bridge did you?” He asked in an easy nature more curious than accusingly.

Tilting his head to the left, Calumn took a look over at the tricorder’s display.  There was something compelling about any computer interface screen, it always attracted the eyes.  In this instance, Calumn was particularly curious about what had gone wrong.  “On the Callisto, the computer interface wasn’t as modern as this one,” Calumn said, “but I’m… reasonably sure I didn’t open a coding panel.” –He craned his neck, taking another look at the readout on the tricorder– “Are these kinds of mysteries why you became an engineer in the first place, ensign?”

”Odd, if it wasn’t done by you, that means either it’s been this way since the system was installed, and been missed in any routine checks. Or someone else has messed with it,  I’m not sure which of those I find more concerning.” He said a little worriedly to Calumn “Should be easy enough to fix though just need to copy the gate coding and make the timing algorithm the same as the one without the error.” Cathmor went about doing that rather quickly his fingers deftly punching in the information that was needed to fix the system. As he was working he heard the question asked him. “I do love a good brain teaser, I’ve loved mechanical thinking though for as long as I can remember. My father was an engineer for Starfleet and I grew up living with him so I grew up in engine rooms practically. Now I finally get to do it all for real, my own little dream come true.” His words were mostly distracted as all concentration was on the tricorder in his hand.

In a similar state, Calum was craning his neck to keep his curious eyes on what Cathmor was describing from the tricorder readouts.  As much as Calumn’s eyes followed the computer codes on the tricorder display, he made efforts to keep an eye on Cathmor’s novel interventions too.  In a similarly distracted state, Calumn spoke from the heart without thinking about the possible consequences.  “That sounds like it would have been lonely, though,” Calumn said.  “A child among all those engineers.”

Cathmor paused what he was doing “it was lonely at times, I guess I never really thought about it though. I also did have friends I was not the only child around but I did learn how to talk with adults much better than I did with kids my own age.” He returned his green eyes to the tricorder pressing another button here and there. After a few moments the screen pinged green “there” he said with a satisfied look on his face “that should fix the misfire issue, now just to run a quick testing sequence and make sure the timing is right. Would you like to do the honors Lieutenant?” Cathmor asked with a smile holding the Chief of Securities tricorder back towards the man.

“No,” Calumn said warmly and he waved his palms in the space between them.  “You put in the work; you deserve the glory,” Calumn affirmed.  He tilted his head to one side, and he added, “I will take those sensor logs back to the security office, though.  I’ll ask one of the investigators to review the data.”  He frowned, thinking of their impending date with the Cardassians.  In an undertone, he pondered out loud, “We’ll have to rule out sabotage and the like.”

Pulling the piece of equipment back towards himself quickly punched in the command for the test fire to begin. The parts whirled to life in front of the two men and after several moments the tricorder pinged green in response. “Well looks like the issue here is fixed, I’ll let the Chief know the issue came up and log it. I will also run some test on the others to make sure there is no coding glitches in them as well, can’t be too safe.” He said with a smile handing the equipment back to Calumn before deftly sliding his way out of the jeffries tube. Once reaching the bottom corridor he waited for the lieutenant to come down so he could verify that the access hatch got closed before he went back to log the work.

With his hands loosely holding the rails of the vertical ladder, Calumn dropped out of the jefferies tube into the junction area where he could stand at his full height.  Offering a playful salute to Cathmor, Calumn said, “It was an honour to meet you, ensign.  I expect this mission will offer you all the brain teasers you can handle.”

Smiling Cathmor returned the jester “Pleasure was all mine sir, torn between saying I hope so and I hope not. She is a good strong ship and well built.” He put his hand to the panel closing off the access before both men turned and went their separate ways.

The conference room was rather spacious, about the size of a smaller hearing room that Eline used on Space Station K-7. It was big for a conference room aboard a starship, but it had beautiful views of the starbase and the planet below. It was her first day aboard the new Ambassador-class, and yet…Eline was starting to fall in love with the new starship. At the head of the table, sat her commanding officer, Captain Keziah Nazir. Eline walked up relatively close and stood at attention. “Lieutenant Commander Eline Liebenberg, reporting for duty as ship’s First Officer.”

Keziah had watched the woman approach her from the entrance way to the observation lounge, watching her every move. For now, she would reserve judgement and keep her thoughts to herself. Instead, she simply rose to her feet and offered a hand to yet another newcomer. “Welcome to the Achilles, Commander,” she greeted the woman, offering her a seat to the Captain’s right hand side.

Eline shook the Captain’s hand, and smiled. “Thank you Captain, I’m happy to be here. The Achilles is a beautiful ship, and I’m excited to serve under you.” Internally, she was anxious. Meeting a new CO was always stressful for her, especially one that she was going to be helping. She felt unprepared, but she knew she had her training. Eline strode to the chair the Captain was gesturing to, and sat down. She started to fix her ponytail, then crossed her legs. She assumed that her Captain had questions for her.

Lowering herself back into the chair at the head of the table, the Captain smiled across at the latest crewmember to join her command. “Achilles is beautiful indeed, but don’t let the beauty and the comfort fool you. She’s got the teeth to stand up to any threat we can perceive,” the Trill assured her new counterpart.

Eline nodded with understanding. Ever since the Klingons and Federation had squared off, Starfleet had built ships that were lethal and could square off with the battlecruisers. It made sense that the Ambassador-class, as the newest ship of the line, would be tasked with facing off against the Cardassian Union.

“Yes ma’am. I won’t ever forget that. I’m sorry Captain, I forgot to ask…what was your name? I assume you don’t want me calling you Captain for the duration that we serve together.” Eline let off a small smile as she attempted to break through the ice with humor.

‘Odd,’ the Captain thought to herself, ‘surely she has done her research?’ Deciding she had perhaps not, the Captain simply nodded. “Keziah Nazir, but for now, Captain will do fine,” she told in a sterner tone. “Now, Commander, tell me why you accepted this posting to the Achilles? This is no desk job,” the Trill asked, making a snide reference to the woman’s past career with the Judge Advocate General’s office.

Seeing her attempt at humor fall flat, Eline straightened up a bit more. ‘Great, she’s not one for humor. This was going to be a long assignment. I hope it’s just because she doesn’t know me, because if she’s this serious through the entire thing, it’s going to be a very long deployment’ she thought to herself as she straightened up.

Eline cleared her throat, then thought a moment before she answered the question. The snide remark was not lost on Eline, and she had to restrain herself from retorting sarcastically.  “I accepted this assignment because of my work on the Cairo. Even as a Staff Judge-Advocate, I had to work on delicate diplomatic situations with hostile forces, as well as my fair share of traditional command abilities, including leading investigations onboard ship and having command of the starship. I was the Third Officer on the Cairo, so I have shipboard experience. Additionally, I worked for several years as one of the frontline officers against the Klingons on K-7, and my experience there would be invaluable to the Achilles and to you, ma’am.” Eline half-smiled, then waited for the next question.

Keziah couldn’t hide the disdain she felt for the references to the JAG corps. Like many on Starfleet, she felt that those associated with the corps often resembled mindless automatons intent on enforcing rules and regulations, rather than dealing with the reality of situations. Rulebooks only got an officer so far, especially one in command. She needed to know that her XO would be able, and willing, to throw that rulebook out the airlock if the situation arose. Eline’s eclectic experiences aboard the Cairo had certainly caught the Trill’s eye whilst she had done her research on the newcomer. “Klingons are not Cardassians, Commander. What we are about to walk into is a very different situation. Have you done your reading around this, at least?”

Eline breathed in to avoid sighing with exasperation at her Captain’s visible show of disdain. She knew that many officers disliked JAG Corps, seeing them as cogs in the Starfleet bureaucracy. Not only that, but she knew that many commanding officers felt that JAG was the “internal affairs” of Starfleet, and though she managed to win over many officers with her easy going demeanor, it was still difficult to deal with the officers who held fast to the idea of what JAG was. However, Admiral Eruzione had placed his trust in her, and he had assigned this post to her. Eline nodded as her Captain finished. “Yes, ma’am. I read the mission brief, as well as most of the Starfleet record that deals with Cardassians. Though we’re ostensibly on a diplomatic mission, there may be combat involved. You are right; Klingons are not Cardassians, that much is obvious. Though Captain, we should also be preparing for SIGINT (SIGnals INTelligence, or intelligence gathered from subspace communications) and other covert actions. The Obsidian Order is also expected to observe the proceedings, and their specialty is covert operations. Starfleet is sending ships in good faith, but we should start taking precautions to defend against espionage.” Eline shifts uncomfortably in her chair, hoping that her suggestion was the right thing to say to the Captain.

“A wise precaution,” the Captain nodded slowly, bringing her hands up in front of her face and steepling the fingers together. “I want you to coordinate with the execs on the ships in our group. Assign them patrol routes along the border and let them know we will be travelling where the wind takes us. I am not going to put our greatest weapon in any one particular area,” she instructed as her face changed. Perhaps, just perhaps, she was starting to thaw a little.

Eline breathed a quiet sigh of relief. “Yes ma’am. I will see to it.” She took a breath, then tapped her PADD awake and began displaying a diagram she had been working on. “Captain, here’s my proposal on how to deploy the four ships. Because the USS Achilles is the flagship, I believe she should hang back, about 90 km from the Hermes, which should be near the border. The other two ships should be at the left and right flank, and all three should be spaced out at least 90 – 110 km. All our communications should be encrypted, as should our status updates to Starfleet Command; the channel should change every so often.” Eline handed the PADD to Captain Nazir. “I wrote all of it down for you, along with diagrams and positioning for the fleet.” She hoped this would be enough to break through the ice.

“A good start, but wider,” Nazir handed the PADD straight back to her XO. “Ninety kilometers is nothing. We have a larger area to cover.”

Eline cursed silently. She began reading the PAAD again, and shook her head. There was a typo, and though she had proofread it, she had not seen it. “I’m sorry, Captain. It was meant to be about 90,000 to 110,000 km starting distance, and we can keep the formation flexible enough to redeploy as necessary.” She made the corrections, then handed it back to Captain Nazir. “It’s only meant as a start, ma’am. In the words of a long-gone general; ‘Plans rarely survive contact with the enemy.’ We can redeploy as necessary.” She hoped this foresight would keep her CO mollified enough.

Nazir listened to the woman’s excuse and accepted it for now, but made a mental note to watch for future… mistakes. “See to it,” she finally nodded. “There will be a briefing later today. In the meantime, I think it would be prudent for you to do the rounds, meet the people and acquaint yourself with the rest of the ship. I expect you to know this ship like the back of your hand,” the Captain instructed as means of a dismissal.

Eline nodded, the expression on her face hiding how inadequate she felt in her new post. “Aye, Captain. Thank you, ma’am.” She smiled at Captain Nazir and slowly picked up her things. She stood at attention, then turned around and exited the observation lounge. Her thoughts were swirling, but she was resolute to earn her Captain’s respect. She stepped into the turbo lift and headed back down ship to begin touring the new vessel.

After nearly three hours of taking on supplies and crew replacements, Achilles was finally underway once again and enroute to her rendezvous with Captain Usmanov and the starships Adriatic and Berlin. The time had been used in a variety of ways, but for the blonde-haired, blue-eyed Trill in command of the Ambassador-class ship, the time had been used to welcome a number of new additions aboard. In normal circumstances, she would have allowed them some time to get used to the ship, their crewmates and her, but the Achilles did not find itself in normal circumstances. Quite the opposite, in fact. Thus, she had no choice but to call an early staff briefing.

Sat in the sanctuary of the briefing room on deck one, at the head of the table and facing the incredibly large, multifunctional wall monitor opposite, the Captain pressed a button in front of her. Across the ship, the familiar boatswain’s whistle rang out, signalling the opening of a communications channel. “All hands, hear this. Senior staff report to the briefing room. Senior staff to the briefing room.”

Doctor Sandoval entered the briefing room several minutes later wearing a lab coat over her teal medical tunic. She carried n herbal tea in one hand and an old-fashioned writing pad in the other for taking notes. “Captain,” she greeted naturally before sitting down at the center of the table with her back to the massive windows. Flipping open her pad she wrote the stardate on the top of the page in neat calligraphy.  Setting the black pen down on the pad she sat back with her tea cradled in both hands and sipped it meditatively.

Eline was in her quarters, unpacking and becoming comfortable with the space she had to call her own. She heard the announcement that was piped through, and and set the thing she had in her hands down on the dresser. She puts on her red uniform jacket and buttons it up, making sure that the rank strap was well adjusted. After a final glance in the mirror, she grabbed a notebook and pen from her desk and heads out toward the turbolift, and back to the briefing room. Upon entering, she sees the Captain and whom she presumes is the ship’s doctor, with a medical tunic and lab coat.

“Good afternoon, everyone!” Eline said in a cheery voice. “Captain, good to see you again” Eline smiled as she took a seat to the right of the head of the table. She then turned to the ship’s doctor and smiled warmly. “Good afternoon, Doctor. I haven’t had the pleasure. I am Lieutenant Commander Eline Liebenberg, First Officer.”

“Hello Commander,” Claudia replied politely.  Her voice was warm, but to the point, “It would appear that you have yet to injure yourself.   I do believe that is a good thing.”

When the doors opened again, Lieutenant Tumaini Calumn marched in from the bridge, a little stiffly.  He nodded at each of the officers in turn, but couldn’t find the words to say much of anything.  He silently mouthed a couple of hellos.  If one looked closely, one could see beads of sweat along his hairline.  Otherwise well-maintained, it wasn’t obvious if Calumn had been running from the security office or if he was simply nervous.  As the odd man out, Calumn was carrying one of the new generation PADDs he had found in the security office.  He rapped it against his thigh twice – a nervous habit.  Calumn selected one of the empty seats, a little bit apart from the others, and he settled himself into the chair.

Keziah had been waiting for the security officer’s arrival, sliding one of the new data PADDs down the table to him. “Security protocols for your timely review, Lieutenant,” the Trill smirked between acknowledgements to the rest of the gathering.

Calumn mirrored her smirk back at her, breathing out the smallest of sighs of relief.  He accepted the PADD and immediately started to scroll through the file on its display.  “Thank you, Captain.  Nectar of the gods,” he said, in reference to any new intelligence and directives from Starfleet.  More than that, scrolling through the latest protocols gave Calumn an easy excuse for avoiding why he hardly knew how to make small talk with humans, or the Captain.

Cathmor was talking with Lieutenant Endirk, the temporary Chief of Engineering, they had been reviewing the data that himself and Lieutenant Calum had found. She was frowning the skin on her forehead wrinkling in concentration when the coms called for all senior staff to report to the briefing room. She eyed him before saying “I need to look into this more, it might be a bit unorthodox for me to send you in my stead, but i believe you would benefit from being there and be able to better help the permanent Chief better by being there yourself.”

Cathmor was a little taken aback by this but he swallowed all of his questions about the prudence of this decision and instead just responded with a yes chief before leaving the engineering deck to head to the briefing room. It did not take him long before he was in front of the door, he could feel a cold sweat running down his back. ‘Think of the solution not the problem’ he muttered the relaxing mantra to himself, the problem was he never expected to be here this quickly having only met a handful of officers and the Captain only in passing. ‘The solution? Deep breath and do your duty, they are only other people you are great with people.’

Holding deeply to that thought he stepped as confidently as possible through the door and into the briefing room. Upon entering it felt like every eye there was on him, he tried to speak and found his mouth shockingly dry. Taking a deeper breath and forcing himself to swallow again he spoke. “The Chief of Engineering sends her apologies ma’am, but something has come up and she sent me in her stead.” He waited there for her response unsure what to do with himself.

“I appreciate you being here Ensign,” the Captain nodded to the junior officer.

Soon enough, a little cluster of officer’s entered at roughly the same time, with Lieutenant Vasoch Gor leading the charge. The Tellarite Male was the ship’s navigation officer, and until now, was the de facto second officer. With him was the token Vulcan science officer, Lieutenant J.G. Jarrik; a beautiful, albeit bald Bolian, Lieutenant J.G. Gaxin Drawas, in the gold of flight control, and a younger (yet older in appearance thanks to his species’ unique hairstyles and moustaches) Efrosian Lieutenant, J.G. Faral Osad in charge of communications.

With everyone now present, the Captain called the meeting to order. Sitting forward in her chair, the elegant Trill placed her hands clasped together on the table’s surface. “I must apologise for not gathering you all together sooner, but circumstances have dictated a somewhat unorthodox start to our mission,” she declared, looking around the table, “there will be time for pleasantries and welcomes along the way, but for now we must focus on the mission at hand.” With that, the Trill tapped the control panel before her and activated the large screen at the table’s end. On it, a map of the Cardassian border. “We will shortly arrive at the Betazed system, the construction site of the new Starbase Two-Eleven. We will rendezvous with the starships Berlin, Hermes and Okinawa before we progress to the Cardassian border. Tensions are on the rise and these starships will be our escort. Starfleet feels the presence of one of our most powerful ships will send a signal to the Cardassians,” the spotted woman revealed.

“They’re certainly sending signals too,” Calumn said gravely.  He looked to each of the faces around the table.  “It was in the Federation news this morning.  The Cardassians have colonised another world hardly more than a sector away from our colony on Soltok IV.”

“There’s incidents of Rudellian Plague going around in the area.   The crew should be inoculated. The senior staff and anyone on away teams at the very least.” Claudia added.

“See to it, Doctor,” the Captain nodded. “Each vessel in our task group has been given a patrol route, and we’ll be flitting between them, responding wherever there may be a need. We’re also going to visit Soltok upon our return and let them know that Starfleet is close by,” she revealed with a sinister smile to her face. “We know very little about them, and there have been less than a dozen official meetings between our peoples, but for some reason, they just don’t seem to like us very much… Osad, you’ll monitor communications during our stay at the border. Any chatter about our group and I want to know about it,” she instructed.

Claudia nodded and scrolled several notes into her notebook to remind her to get enough doses for the entire group and to organize an inoculation schedule for the crew.

Nodding swiftly, the Efrosian’s golden locks flowed freely beside his face. “As you wish, Captain,” he agreed.

“Now,” she tapped her controls again, “we’ve received word that Starfleet is organising some official peace talks between our two parties. We don’t know where, we don’t know when. I’m sure the place will remain secret until the last minute, but for now, we need to be ready for any situation that may arise. That being said,” she looked down the table, “Mister Langston, an engineering report if you please?”

Cathmor shot up straight back in his chair from where he had been leaned forward looking at information and scrawling notes as fast as he could. Taking a moment to calm himself he responded “Yes ma’am of course, all propulsion systems are optimal, the only hiccup we have had is a small issue the new type IX phaser array system that was found thanks to Lieutenant Calumn.” He paused for a moment to nod appreciatively at the Chief of Security. “There was a small issue in the coding for the gate timing that has since been rectified, we are of course doing an in depth check of all coding in our phaser systems now to make sure it was only an isolated issue. The work report has been filed and sent to you for approval before sending it to Starfleet so we can make sure it isn’t a coding error that could have been put into service down the line. Other than that all systems are working as intended Captain.”

Affecting a warm smile for Cathmor, Calumn added, “Ensign Cathmor reflected well on our engineering team, captain.”  He looked over to Nazir to make sure she heard how well the young officer had performed.  Calumn said, “He spotted the problem and sorted it in no time.  All tactical system diagnostics are reporting back in the green now.”

“Communications systems are all functioning within normal parameters,” the Efrosian told, “making our part of the plan easy to follow.”

“Very well,” the blonde mistress of the ship nodded. “Are there any questions before we call this meeting to a close?”

After scribbling a quick engineering note on his PADD, Calumn looked up at his fellow officers and then he met eyes with Nazir.  Deferentially, Calumn asked, “Of course, I understand if the answer is confidential, captain, but can you share with us if the peace talks were requested by the Federation or requested by the Cardassians?”

Claudia paused writing on her pad and looked up glancing from the captain to the chief of security.   That was a question she hadn’t considered.  After all she had just assumed it had been the Federation.  The Cardassians had expended the resources on their own planet long ago and was on a campaign of empire building to compensate.   But, a calamity could have occurred, like when Praxis threatened the Klingon Empire. And if something like that occurred she could have her hands very full.

Relaxing in her chair somewhat, the blonde let out a smile as she shrugged. “Not something I have been made privy to,” she confessed, “I know nothing more than you lot do.”

With no further questions, the captain dismissed her team.

“Thank you, captain,” Lieutenant Calumn said as he rose to his feet.  His thanks spoke to the briefing in general and he waggled the PADD in the air, as well, to give thanks for the latest security protocols.  With a nod, Calumn said, “Let’s hope our diplomats continue to do what the Federation does best: make friends.”

Claudia was far more pragmatic in her view.  Maybe it was the separation of generations,  but she had seen nothing but conflict in her youth.  From the Klingons to the Romulans she did not share Calumn’s optimistic view of the Federation.   Not, that she didn’t hope for peace.  She very much did indeed.  She was a doctor after all, but she also knew that peace wasn’t always to be had… especially when it came to the Federation and how the Prime Directive handcuffed negotiations.   

Collecting her things she stood, gave the crew a brave smile. Nodding to the XO and Captain she set off for sickbay.  She needed to make preparations to inoculate the crew, and in case negotiations turned ugly.  She wondered if she could convenience Starfleet Medical to assign a few more nurses… maybe even some combat medics.

Tapping his thumb against the interface of a desktop computer terminal aboard the USS Tolstoy, a Starfleet service record scrolled slowly on the display screen.  Tumaini Calumn’s dark eyes narrowed on the words Space Station K-7.  He stopped his scroll and he breathed out a, “tt.”  He tapped a button to close the service record.  Leaning back in his chair, Calum pulled open the front flap of his red uniform jacket and then he secured it even tighter than before.  It would look better that way while he was seated — more formal.

Calumn took a deep deep breath, and then he said, “Computer, open a subspace channel with Lieutenant Commander Eline Liebenberg aboard USS Johannesburg.”  After a chirping telltale, a Starfleet insignia appeared on his display screen to indicate the computer was working.

***

Eline stretched in her cabin on the Johannesburg. It was barely a day into the cruise to Starbase 211, and she already was feeling the effects of being on one of the smallest ships in the fleet. She wasn’t used to the utilitarian accommodations of the Centaur-class, having been assigned to posts that always had spacious quarters and crew areas. Even when she was on the Cairo, she still had comfortable quarters. To be fair, they were her quarters, and the Captain gave his crew autonomy to do as they wished, as long as the work got done. But these quarters…it didn’t feel like home. It felt more like a hotel room; in fact, the entire ship felt like it was foreign. Pushing the unpleasant thoughts out of her mind by bringing up the pleasant memories of leave on Earth, she was pulled out by the soft chime of the com-channel aboard the ship.

“Lieutenant Commander Liebenberg, this is the Bridge. Please acknowledge.”“Liebenberg here.”

“Ma’am, we have a communications request from the USS Tolstoy, coded personal. Would you like to take it in your cabin?”

Eline was puzzled. Usually, the personal meant that it was her partner, checking in with her, but she was back on Earth. She didn’t know anyone on the Tolstoy, at least, that she remembered. “Transfer it to my cabin. I’ll take it on the monitor.”

“Acknowledged. Bridge out.”

Eline stretched her back and put on her red uniform jacket over her sleeveless dress that she had on. Technically, she was off duty, but it was a small touch of home in the vast emptiness of space. Once she sat down, she swiveled the monitor towards her. It had the Federation seal and the words Incoming Transmission: From Lt. Tumaini Calumn, USS Tolstoy.

‘Calumn…’ she thought as she tapped the desk and read the screen. ‘Where do I know that name from? I know that name.’ Suddenly, it dawned on her who it could possibly be. “Is it possible it’s that…there’s no way” she muttered to herself, as she tied her hair back into a ponytail. She tapped the console, and accepted the transmission. The monitor beeped, and then she was face to face with Lt. Calumn. A pleasant smile graced her lips, and she said, “Hello Lieutenant! It’s been a long time.”

“Good evening, commander.  Yes, it’s been a very long time,” Calumn replied.  On the screen, his facial expression was relatively neutral, but there was a warmth conveyed behind his words.  He tilted his head back slightly, looking up at the overhead with a momentary look of concentration.  His brows furrowed for a heartbeat.  Meeting Eline’s eyes again, Calumn said, “Six years, in fact!  Please let me know if this is an inconvenient time, commander.  I had hope to speak with you about your destination.”

Eline blinked with surprise at Lt. Calumn’s formality. “Six years? Has it really been that long?” she questions, arching an eyebrow. “It’s not inconvenient, just surprising is all. Of course; what did you want to speak about, regarding my destination?”

A smile began to curl on his face at the mention of surprise.  “Judging by the crew manifest, I believe we share a destination: USS Achilles,” Calumn said.  He said the name of their ship with some bravado; his own service record would show he had never served aboard anywhere as prestigious as an Ambassador-class starship.  “To keep from striking up a conversation with the bulkhead,” Calumn said, gently teasing, “I thought you might like to meet your new chief security officer.”

Eline laughed gently, and shook her head. She remembered perfectly his playful nature when she had met him on K-7 a long time ago, back when she was assigned to JAG. “Of course! I’m happy to know that I’m working with someone I already know. Though, I wanted to ask…you transferred out of JAG Corps for a place in security?” She smiled cordially as she made conversation.

That question.  That question was loaded like a phaser on setting eight.  As much as Calumn had tried to mentally prepare himself for meeting Eline –after they had only met in a courtroom before– he hadn’t considered how to frame that story.  His eyes went on the down and he scraped his teeth across his lower lip.  “As much as I loved the hearings, I love the research and the preparation more.  I loved it too much.  It was eating my whole life; all I wanted to do was frame and reframe arguments. It was starting to feel too much like school back on Betazed; everyone around me was engaging telepathically and I couldn’t hear any of it.  Too much time alone with my thoughts.”

Eline nodded. “I can understand that. Though if you were content, you could have transferred into the appellate division; most of what they do is research and preparation. Being a trial officer is always complicated, yet it was always rewarding. I loved that about JAG. There was always a lot going on.” She smiles fondly remembering all the good times she had in JAG.

Calumn shrugged, and he said dryly, “I thought it was time to try breaking the law myself.”

Eline let out a gentle giggle,  and shook her head, composing herself. “Breaking the law is addictive, Lieutenant. Besides, you might be breaking more bones as a Security Chief than you will the law.” She quipped back with him, lending her sense of humor to him. “You know, we’re going to be working quite well together, given our background.”

“I expect so,” Calumn said.  There was some relief in his tone; the expression on his face revealed he was realising that probability only as when said it out loud.  “Most other officers haven’t seen what we’ve seen.  We probably understand the roles and responsibilities of Starfleet in a similar manner,” Calumn acknowledged, but his lips quirked into a mischievous smile.  “Except for that one time, on K-7.”

Claudia crossed the bridge and gave several of the officers there a friendly nod before stepping up to the door. She pressed the door chime and shoved her hands into the pockets of her white lab coat while she waited for the Captain to invite her in.

Inside the private office on the edge of the bridge, Captain Nazir was hard at work, reading through countless data PADDs as she tried to get a handle on what was left to come personnel wise. She had much to do to try and get a final, complete crew in place for their mission. It was during her search for crew that the door chime interrupted her again.

“Enter!” the captain beckoned from within.

Claudia entered the ready room with a motherly smile, “Good morning captain.”

“Doctor,” the captain nodded to the visitor, “what can I do for you?”

Claudia took in the younger woman for a moment, “Actually I was going to ask if there was anything I could do for you.  You look…” She hesitated searching for the right word.  “You look mildly discomposed. Command can be stressful at times.”

“The burden of command,” Keziah smirked, looking somewhat sheepish as she relaxed back into her chair and gestured for the doctor to take a seat opposite her. “I’ve got a billion people who want to join this ship, and a dozen or so positions left to fill. I’ve got a new XO who I’m not sure I can trust and a mission that…” she shook her head with a sigh, “well, let’s just say it is going to be far from easy.”

Claudia considered the captain’s comments for a moment.   Drawing out a wooden box, stained a dark red-brown, from her lab coat she set it on the desk and slid it to Keziah. “Aldeveron black-tea.  It doesn’t have caffeine like most teas, and contains a low dose of the same chemical used to treat anxiety. Plus it’s chock full of antioxidants,  and trace essential vitamins. And why would you feel you cannot trust our new XO? Is it her illustrious past in the JAG Corps or something else?  You wouldn’t be the first officer to find discomfort from officers of that particular branch.”

“She wasn’t my choice,” the Captain told the chief medical officer with a shrug, “I had no say in her appointment, and that’s not something I like. I don’t like command messing around with my ship,” she responded as she graciously picked up the tea and walked over to her replicator to get some water for her new beverage. “Every other person on this ship I have had some say about, but not her. It makes me think she could be a plant.”

“Then I am grateful for the opportunity that you have given me. Not many captain’s would be willing to give someone old enough to be their great-grandmother a chance. I am for that matter.”  She sat down and folded her boney hands into her lap. “It has been my observation that few people are irredeemable,  and things always work out the way they are supposed to, if not in an ill-timed manner. Call it fate if you will.  Many don’t like that.  It takes their decisions out of the equation and hands them off to some cosmic ebb and flow of events… or a diety if you will.  If our friend is a plant what are your concerns, beyond not having a say?”

“If she is infernal repairs, or JAG, or whatever,” Nazir always told jokes when she was uncomfortable, “then that suggests there is something wrong, or they perceive that there is something wrong, on this ship already,” she frowned, 

“Well, Captain I have monopolized enough of your time.  If you need anything you know where to find me,” Claudia rose and stood at a loose attention out of respect for her commanding officer waiting for the order to be dismissed. 

Nazir appreciated having a sounding board, and in the absence of a counsellor (for the moment at least), the much older woman was as good as anyone. “Thank you Doctor, you’re free to go,” the Trill smirked as she nodded to the woman in thanks.

Claudia gave her a warm smile, turned and headed for the door.  At their parting she paused,  “Back in the day, a ship’s counselor was unheard of.  I have filled that role many times, though. Not that I’m saying that you need such a thing, just that that resource is there for you and the the crew should you, or they, find that they need it.”  And with that Claudia was gone. She was surprisingly nimble for someone of her age.

“Captain’s log, Stardate 24582.19.

 

Dubbed the ‘Golden Age of Exploration’, the 2340s have proven to be no less challenging or significant than any time before them. Although peace with the Klingons is almost a foregone conclusion, it came at a heavy price. Starfleet’s flagship, the Enterprise-C, was lost with all hands in the defence of the Klingon world of Narendra III. Since that fateful day just three short years ago, Starfleet has been on edge, watching our borders closely and building starships at a rate I’ve never seen before. Gone are the days of refitting old space frames; now we’re churning out Centaurs, Freedoms and Excelsiors faster than we can pick names. But the real power of the fleet lies with us, of course. We lucky few, those of us with the privilege to serve aboard one of the finest starships ever created – the Ambassador-class. Designed to be the Federation’s Ambassadors, travelling the cosmos and spreading our mission of peace, yet armed with the kind of technological upgrades we’ve not seen for a generation.

 

I should know; I was there…

 

On the verge of being declared operational, after a year long shakedown cruise, Achilles finds itself headed towards a new foe. Tasked with spreading the word of peace, we will be the Ambassador’s that the Federation so desperately needs, but I won’t hesitate to use these modern technologies I have at our disposal if the rumours are true. Rumours of prisoners, terrorism, subjugation… death.

 

What we know is limited, and what we’ve been told is less than clear. We’ve had very few dealings with them over the years and I’ve not personally met one yet, but if they are what recent refugees have reported, I can’t imagine we’ll be friendly for long…

 

I’m told if you listen carefully around these parts, you’ll hear whispers in the darkness. A name drifting on the wind.

 

Cardassians.”

With the Achilles having successfully departed the colony on Xendi Sabu, Captain Nazir and her senior staff had monitored ships systems for over an hour and once everyone was satisfied that the ship was running as efficiently as possible, she had ordered a temporary change to shift patterns for the day. It seemed only fair given the fact she had ordered senior staff to the bridge at gone 2am, well into gamma shift. She had decreed that gamma shift would remain on duty for an additional two hours, moving Alpha shift to ten-hundred hours instead of the usual oh-eight-hundred hours; an opportunity to try and regain those lost two hours of sleep. Satisfied with the arrangement in place, she herself had turned in a little after oh-four-hundred. She was out for the count the minute her head hit the pillow; no sleeping pills were needed this night.

Despite the disturbed night’s sleep, she had looked bright and cheery upon reporting to the bridge, via a stop at the mess hall for a hot beverage and some toast of course – a late breakfast to set the Trill commander of the ship up for the day. She had decided that she would go for the unzipped uniform jacket and blonde ponytail look today as she reported for her shift.

Sat in her command chair, staring out at the universe, she absentmindedly fiddled with the small device perched on her left breast. Her crew were some of the first to trial the latest insignia Starfleet had designed. For the first time ever, the metallic object served as more than a symbol; the latest versions came with a significant redesign to take advantage of the latest communications technology. Commbadges inside insignia! Who would have thought it possible? Gone were the days of bulky communications devices, instead all they had to do was tap their badge and speak the name of the person they wanted to converse with and the ship’s systems would do the rest. What a thrill! That was just the first of the many upgrades that came with being a crewmember upon the grandest ship in the fleet. New hand phasers, including an easily concealable version. A slimelined tricorder that could sit in a pouch on one’s service belt (no more neck straps), and a medikit that contained all of the essentials for use in a medical emergency off of the ship. It certainly was a great time to be alive.

“Captain…”

Plucked from her daydreaming, the blonde haired beauty looked around for the owner of the voice.

“Captain,” Lieutenant Alexandre Levett called out, turning in his seat from the Communications station to glance across at the ship’s commanding officer. “We’re received a transmission from the starship Hermes. They’re in the immediate vicinity, travelling at warp five.”

Keziah rose from the command chair and let out a sigh as she got adjusted her uniform. ‘It’s too damn early for strange new people…’ she pondered internally. Or was it one of her past hosts? Damn she needed to get a handle on all these thoughts and feelings. “Let’s have it,” she spoke eventually.

Levett nodded and tapped at his controls, finally nodding in the Captain’s direction as the view screen changed to reveal the face of an aging woman with (quite clearly dyed) red hair.

“Ahhh, you must be Captain Nazir? Greetings! My name is Captain Natalia Usmanov, commander of the Hermes,” the older Terran smiled happily and nodded in the direction of her much younger counterpart. Her Russian accent was thick yet somewhat alluring. “Starfleet has ordered the Hermes to rendezvous with yourselves, the Berlin and the Okinawa at the site of the new Starbase Two-One-One, just outside of the Betazed system,” the woman told, relaying a message that, no doubt, the woman on the other side of the conversation had already been told.

Nazir returned to the safety and sanctuary of her command chair and shifted forwards slightly, her hands gripping the chair arms as she listened to the words of the woman on the view screen. So, they would have company out in the region after all. “I didn’t realise Starfleet was sending anyone else out this way so soon. Admiral th’Zorati made it clear that we’d be on our own for at least the next two mon…”

“The threat level in the region has been raised from moderate to significant. Border skirmishes are on the rise, and our grey-skinned friends are not playing fair,” Usmanov interrupted, her demeanour changing as she spoke. “Of course they are going to send more than one Ambassador class starship. Look at the Enterprise when she was left alone.”

Nazir raised an eyebrow as she glanced across at her Navigation Officer, who returned her quizzical expression, before continuing about his business. “We can be at Betazed in the next eighteen to twenty-four hours. We are to rendezvous with the Adriatic and Tolstoy first to take on crew replacements,” she confirmed, her tone calm, but clear, letting her fellow Captain know that this particular commander would not be pushed around. Achilles would reach her destination exactly when Nazir intended, and not a moment sooner.

“The closer to eighteen, the better,” Usmanov exclaimed. Then, as quickly as it had switched the first time, her demeanour changed again, and she was once again the chirpy soul who had first contacted them. “See you at Betazed, Captain. Hermes out.”

And just like that, the Russian disappeared and the view screen was deactivated, leaving Keziah somewhat perplexed at the interaction that had taken place.

“A single Ambassador…” muttered Levett to the Captain’s right, “it’d be alright if she was commanding an Excelsior or something, but the Hermes is only a Miranda! What good will she be in a fire fight?” He glanced across at the Trill, only to see her shooting him a look that sparked a sudden feeling that he had overstepped the mark in his rant, “sorry ma’am.” He offered his profuse apologies and got back to work.

Keziah shook her head slowly, and let out a smirk at the young Lieutenant’s indiscretion, but her thoughts soon turned back to what appeared to be an adjustment to their orders. The Achilles would report to the Betazed system and continue her journey to the Cardassian border with three new friends in tow.

“Ok Lieutenant,” she called out as she rose from her chair again and pulled down her jacket, “note down the adjustment to our orders in the ships log. We’ll meet up with the Adriatic and Tolstoy and then we’ll make for the Betazed system, at best possible speed. Inform Lieutenant Jaeger of our change of plans and have him ensure all security protocols are in place for when we get there.” She turned on her heels, not waiting for a response from the Ensign before heading for her ready room. “Knowing our luck, our new friend Captain Usmanov will want to stretch her legs on something a bit bigger than her tiny little Miranda.”

Levett watched with an enormous grin on his face as Nazir disappeared into her ready room and then got to work carrying out her orders.

Inside the ready room, there was research to be done. About Starbase Two-One-One, about the Hermes, and about this perplexing woman called Usmanov…