Mission 1.04 - A Change of Cadence

[Starbase One, Earth Orbit]
[Fleet Admiral Edward Jellico’s Office]
[April 10, 2386]

Virkov stood in the spacious office, her gaze fixed out of the window into the main berthing area of the starbase. As was typical when she was called into Jellico’s office, she was afforded a view of “Starship Row,” where starships were lined up awaiting fates of various natures. She had been here only several months before, staring out the window at what was to be her new command, the USS White Star. In retrospect, now that she’d had months to reflect on it, she never should have accepted that command without knowing exactly what she was getting into. Not a day went by that she didn’t regret the hell that she put good people through due to her own state of emotional disarray.

She shook her head slightly, refocusing her attention to the goings on in the docking area. Today, there were 3 of Starfleet’s finest lined up directly in her view. An Excelsior, and Ambassador, and an Insignia were situated in close quarters to each other. Judging from her state of disrepair, the Excelsior had been brought to the base to be decommissioned and scrapped. The Ambassador seemed to be undergoing a refit of some sort, but was realistically not far off from being decommissioned and scrapped herself, Virkov knew. The third starship in line though was definitely out of place given the other two. It was an Insignia Class, the aging Ambassador’s eventual replacement. Virkov pressed her face slightly further against the window to afford a better look.

The Insignia looked to be fresh out of the yards, and had likely already undergone her formal commissioning and shaking down trials. A symphony of small craft was weaving in and out of the ship’s vicinity, testing the running lights and various systems on-board. Or at least that’s what they seemed to be doing from the reactions on the ship’s exterior. It was the type of efficiency and productivity that only an Operations Officer would appreciate.

She couldn’t quite make out the registry. A pang of jealousy and longing hit her like a kick in the gut. The commanding officer taking on that ship was luckier than they could possibly understand. Insignias were reliable, fast, efficient, and multi role capable: traits she had once considered herself to possess before she had been assigned to a scrapping yard and then on to Deep Space Six to serve as an outgoing Admiral’s XO.

The door behind her hissed open. She turned, standing to attention, and then sagging slightly as she saw the figure of Admiral Jellico step into his office. The older man was wearing his dress whites, although with the top two buttons undone. He smiled broadly and stepped forward to embrace her in one of the most awkward hugs she had ever experienced. The smell of Saurian Brandy wafted off of him, and Virkov had to stifle a snort in her throat.

“Beth, so good of you to come all the way back to Earth for a little roundup and get together!” he said, gesturing towards the seat in front of his desk as he sat down heavily into his own chair.

“Good nothing, Admiral, I was ordered to report to Starbase One for re-assignment,” she said, dryly.

Jellico wrinkled his nose a bit at her, and said “Yes, I suppose so. None of that Admiral business in my office, Beth. In here, I’m Ed. We’re both getting too old to be so stuffy and formal in front of each other.”

A level expression on her face, Virkov sighed softly. One of her greatest pet peeves was trying to reason with drunk people, and Jellico clearly fell into that category today.

“I don’t have much time to spare today unfortunately. I’m just giving you the basic rundown of your new assignment, and then I’ve got to get back to the festivities,” he made quote signs with his hands on the last word. “Those Tamarians can be a real riot if you can get around the language barrier Beth. You didn’t happen to bring your whites with you, did you?”

“To be frank, Ed, this is the only uniform I brought with me as I figured this would be a quick turnaround trip like the last two have been. I’d like to know what my new assignment is so that I can mentally prepare for it before taking it on. Are you sending me off to a mining colony? Operations on a dilithium trawler? Teaching Theoretical Astrophysics at the Academy in the Beta Quadrant?”

Jellico’s smile quickly melted off of his face, and he picked a PADD up from his desk, sliding it towards her. Silently, he stood and walked to the window, staring out into the large bay while she read over the documentation.

“I beg your pardon sir, but these are just my orders to report to you for re-assignment, which I received two weeks ago...” she said, slightly perplexed.

“Oh? Maybe they haven’t drafted the final marching orders then,” Jellico said absentmindedly. “At any rate Beth, the Admiralty and I had a meeting to review your service record and decide what the next step for you would be.

“The situation out there is grim. We’re still recovering our losses from the Dominion War, and while all of our shipyards are pumping out the best and brightest of what we have, we still have an overabundance of new recruits and cadets. So many, in fact, that we can’t find places for them other than sectors beyond the Core. It’s a tough position to be in. We want desperately to give each of these fresh young minds a great start at a promising career with the Fleet, but logistically, the best positions go to those who’ve already established themselves. That’s where you come in,” he said, turning to her with the final sentence. He gestured for her to stand and join her at the window.

“I know you had your eye on all three of those ships there earlier Beth. I had the dockmaster line ‘em up in that order for a reason.”

“The meaning isn’t lost on me, sir. Those three ships are considered the finest of what Starfleet could build at the times they were constructed,” she said, slightly wistfully.

“Precisely. The Appomatox,” he said, pointing towards the Excelsior “is here to be put to rest. 100 years in the Fleet Beth. Tell me that’s not impressive. That old Ambassador there is the Prestige. This is her final refit. In another 5 years she’ll go the way of the Appomatox and so many other Ambassadors before her. The Insignia there, I’m sure you’ve realized, is a brand new build. She was finished two weeks ago, and just came back today from her shakedown. We’re ‘hosing her off’ so to speak for her new commanding officer to take over. She’s headed for a brand new area. Out past the Badlands, there’s this area the locals call The Expanse. No one’s ever been there. Hell, no one even really knows what’s out there at all! But we’re out there now Beth. We’ve got a couple of ships out there laying down the footwork for the Federation to come in and make friends with the locals. It’s all so exciting. Makes me wish I could be center seat again.”

Clearing her throat softly, Virkov said, “Me too sir.”

He turned to face her, and said “Good. It pleases me to hear that you think you’re capable of commanding a starship again Beth. Because the Admiralty agrees with you. We’re impressed with how much progress you’ve made in your treatment, and how many steps you’ve taken to show us that you’re the same old Beth, just with a new outlook and a slightly more level head.”

Virkov smiled, and stated “Thank you sir. That means a great deal to me.”

Walking back to his desk and sitting down, Jellico looked through a few of the PADDs on his desk, and sighed. “Oh hell, my new assistant seems to have misplaced the one document I need. Anyway Beth, the Insignia is yours. She was laid down to be the USS San Francisco, but once the decision was made to make her yours, we decided to name her Normandie, after the command you lost at the beginning of this year.”

Virkov’s heart jumped into her throat, and she did her best to control herself. Taking a deep breath, she said “Thank you sir. I look forward to commanding her. I presume our new area of ops is going to be...”

“Task Force 92,” he interrupted. “The area of ops I just mentioned. There’s a few points I want to go over with you before I turn you over to my Adjutant to hammer out the last of the details. The Normandie is going to be an Academy Adjunct ship, Beth. You’ll be taking on a limited amount of cadets, recruits, and fresh out of academy and basic officers and crew. She’s a learning ship.”

“While that sounds absolutely thrilling sir, where are we going to put all of them? I know the Insignia class, and she’s not equipped to handle much more than 50 extra people onboard unless it’s an absolute emergency,” Virkov said.

Jellico laughed and said “Well there’s two ways around that actually. One, we built custom modules for her saucer. She’s equipped with more standard science, engineering, medical, and security functionality than an Insignia normally is. Secondly, she’s holo-mapped to the last millimeter of her interior spaces due to the advanced AI we brought onboard. I’m sure you’ll be very familiar with her.”

Smiling, Virkov said “SARAH.”

“Exactly. I’m sure the two of you will get along swimmingly. To be honest, I’d imagine she’ll be doing most of the training and teaching. Still, we’d like you to choose your senior staff and department heads wisely. We need people that know how to motivate and lead others. I’m sure you won’t have any problem finding a crew of those though. You never do. The Admiralty has taken the liberty of assigning you a First Officer. We had to choose someone we knew would compliment your own abilities, and who demonstrated command capability and tenacity herself. She comes highly recommended by the Commandant of the Marine Corps, so I’m sure you’ll have no problems with her.”

Virkov nodded. In a perfect world she would be choosing her own Executive, but at this point having one chosen for her was a small price to pay to be sitting center seat again.

“Anyway, I’ve got to get back to the party. I’ll leave it to you to work out all the nitty-gritty details. You’ll be taking on your first group of cadets and recruits tomorrow, and you’ll be shipping out at 0900 the following day. It takes about a month to get to the Expanse, and then about a week at maximum warp to get into our area of operations there. We’ve got an Excalibur out there under the command of Admiral Holden. The Endeavour, which is where you’ll be reporting to. It doesn’t give you much time for the footwork, but you’ve always been good in a pinch. Be careful out there, Beth,” he said, standing and extending his hand.

She stood, shook it firmly and said, “Don’t worry sir, I don’t plan on losing another ship named Normandie anytime soon.”

Jellico laughed, and walked towards the door. He stopped mid-stride, and turned.

“One final thing. You’ll need to go to the quartermaster and requisition another pip. You’re being advanced to the rank of Captain. Congratulations,” he said, and walked out the door.

[Mollais Rihan Embassy, Paris, Earth]
[April 10, 2386, 1200 hours]

“You must tell me what it is like!” said the Ambassador, his hand resting on the arm of the plush leather high-backed chair. His other hand reached over and lifted the glass of wine, he sipped it gently.

“You are most aware of my inability to do so, Lord Aelhi. You were informed of the location of my mission as a courtesy as the Mollais Rihan Ambassador to the United Federation of Planets, but the content of mission and what I discovered on Romulus is something that I cannot discuss” she paused and lifted her own glass, she placed it to her lips and took the smallest sip possible before resting it on her side table, “Suffice to say that ch’Rihan is in a worse state than I thought, our devious siblings rule with an long staff and a harsh hand”

The older looking man nodded, he had been the Ambassador to the Federation since their first meeting, and was the one guiding the integration of the Mollais Rihan into the Federation, they had completed 11 of the 20 years, but he forgot himself in his manners and status. He was a Lord of a Cadet-clan of her own, but acted with an unwarranted air of superiority towards T’Lani, she may have been there as a Mollais Rihan Citizen and the first Mollais Rihan in Starfleet but she was also a Princess of the Mollais Rihan Empire, she was the granddaughter of the Empress and was the Lord’s better in almost every way according to her people’s culture.

“Daie, ssuaj.” he said, once the words left his mouth he realised that he has spoken out of turn, he had used the informal superior-inferior structure and syntax. His eyes widened as he realised.

“Lord Aelhi, I think the uniform I now wear has caused you a momentary lapse in cognition.” She spoke in a quite and controlled tone, “Do not allow this green uniform to cause you to think you are speaking to anyone other than a Princess of the Mollais Rihan an heir to the Empress’ Throne.” She lifted her glass and took a polite sip again, she placed the glass on her side table again. She then stood up, Lord Aelhi quickly came to his feet out of protocol, “If you will excuse me Aelhi” she nodded her head. He returned the nod and raised his hands to waist level, and turned his palms upwards.

“Jolan’tru fi lhhei.”

“Far’jolan” she said as she waited for him to walk to the door and open it. As he reached the door it opened and a servant stood at the threshold. She gave a slight bow of the head.

“There is a Starfleet Officer here to see you.” she said in a clear tone.

Aelhi nodded, “Thank you, I will see them once I have escorted the Princess out.”

“The Starfleet has come for the Princess...she asked for Lt.Colonel T’rannus.”

Of course, the servant would always address the most senior person in the room, but the Ambassador, who was so used to ruling the perch had thought it was for him. T’Lani suppressed a small smile that threatened to play on her lips. She simply nodded to the Servant who bowed and walked out.

“Aelhi, no need to walk me out. I am familiar with my Embassy’s layout” she said, ending the conversation. She walked out and placed her swagger stick under her right arm as she walked through the marble floored corridors.

It took her less than 5 minutes to reach the main foyer, as she entered the room the Tal Prai’ex Guards came to a traditional salute. They lined the 40 steps of the stairs down to the main foyer. T’Lani was used to this and as a member of the Royal House ignored them as was tradition. At the foot of the stairs she saw the older looking woman in the new red of the Starfleet Uniforms. She looked identical to her service jackets holo, although she looked more haggard than the holo.

As she was indoors T’Lani came to attention rather than salute, as prescribed by the Marine Corps. “Captain Virkov,” she kept her face emotionless and rigid, “I am Lieutenant Colonel T’Lani, a pleasure to meet you Ma’am.”

Virkov nodded, and with a soft smile said “At ease, Colonel. I wish to extend my thanks to you and your people for the tour of the Embassy. While we may be working in a strict military chain of command, I hope that our time together brings us to a better mutual understanding of our two peoples. Is there...somewhere a bit more private that we can speak? I have a few minor details I would like to go over with you.”

T’Lani shook her hand, “Of course Captain” she said and turned to the servants who remained at the back of the hall, “Prepare the Library.” They rushed off and T’Lani turned to the woman. “Would you care to follow me Ma’am?” she asked in a deferential tone.

Virkov nodded, and followed the remarkably young looking woman. Her service record had stated her age at 94, and in the rush to get everything taken care of and finalize the last few meetings, she had completely forgotten the fact that as a member of a long lived race, T’Lani could be expected to look far younger than herself, despite their nearly 40 year age difference.

Stepping into the Library, Virkov turned her gaze outward, going over the large rows of books and various other items on the shelves. Clearing her throat, she took a seat at one of the smaller tables, and set her PADD down in front of her.

“I’m told,” she began, “that you have a bit of a dabbling in the science of the mind. How far does your training and latent ability extend?”

T’Lani looked at the woman, but did not sit; she was in her own domain now, not the Captain’s. “I am not sure I understand to what you refer Captain?” Unlike most people she did not use a universal translator, she had taken the time to learn Federation standard as well as other minor Human languages and the major languages of the Alpha and Beta Quadrants. Maybe she wasn’t as proficient as she thought she was.

Virkov looked up at T’Lani, and said “I’ll come right down to it, Colonel. This year has been hell for me, and I have been diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The ship has yet to be staffed with an actual Counselor, and part of my mandated therapy is to undergo psychological evaluations. I’m told that your race have the latent abilities common to the Vulcan and Romulan Ancestries. My preferred counselor will not be joining us, as he is stationed on Earth and is bound there in his current service.”

Shuffling through a few documents on the PADD, she continued. “Your service record, brief though it is, had lead me to believe that you had some minor training in Psychiatry. If this is not the case, I will need to know so that I can make other arrangements with Starfleet Medical. I will no longer require counselling, simply to undergo evaluations of my mental health from time to time, especially when under duress. I’m certain I don’t need to divulge to you that duress is to be expected when serving aboard a starship. So I will rephrase my question simply: Is this something your realm of ability, while still maintaining the appropriately disciplined chain of command?”

She did not move, other than to place her swagger stick on the table, "I am licensed to practice Psychiatry, but have not done so to anyone outside of the Mollais Rihan." She paused. "I am willing to act as your confidant and counsellor in the more traditional sense of the term, as is my duty as your Executive" she said in a clear tone.

Virkov smiled, and said “Perfect, that’s exactly what I require. My second inquiry is this: the Normandie is expected to take on some 60 cadets and new recruits tomorrow for adjunct training while en route to our area of operations. As it stands now, I expect to receive a bulk of the formal senior staff once we’ve arrived there, but we are short staffed on our trip out. The necessity may arise for several of us, myself included, to take on two or three roles at a time in order to better facilitate ship-wide operations. Do you believe you will be able to do this, and which other departments would you prefer to oversee in the interim?”

"In addition to my roles as Executive Officer and Marine Detachment Commander Ma'am?" she said her voice continuing to remain neutral.

“Correct,” Virkov said, her tone unchanging. “I fully expect to perform the roles of Commanding Officer, Operations Chief, and several other minor positions as the need is required. Security, Tactical, Engineering...those areas are outside of my forte. I’m told we’ll be receiving Science and Engineering Chiefs later on today once everyone comes aboard.”

"Ma'am, I may wear the green of a Marine but I have been fully trained in all aspects required to run a starship. Given my experience it would seem prudent to play to my strengths as humans put it." She paused, "That being using the Detachment and myself to augment the security and tactical department until such a time that the full compliment can be set in place."

“Excellent. I will leave it at your discretion to bring crew you wish to have serve under you aboard for the trip out then. That was all that I had for you. I needed to make absolutely certain that I had a flexible Executive, and you seem to be more than capable of undertaking that role. Do you have any questions or concerns for me?”

T'Lani thought for a moment, "No Ma'am, I have no questions" she looked to the door, "Please excuse me for a moment" she said and walked towards the door. It opened and a woman dressed in ornate black robes stood there. She and T'Lani looked at one another in silence for several minutes. T'Lani turned slightly and extended her hand, from the other side of the room a large green crystal levitated across the room to her out stretched hand at quite some speed. She handed it to the other woman who bowed with her palms facing upwards. The woman turned and walked away. The door closed and T'Lani returned her attention to the Captain, "I am sorry for the interruption Captain."

Virkov arched an eyebrow at T’Lani, and said “Impressive. Very well then. I’ll need to return to the Normandie presently to get the last of the details squared away before we begin taking on crew. Report for duty at 15:00 hours directly to the Bridge. I’ll have the Quartermaster arrange with you to bring aboard the possessions you’ll be needing or wanting. Thank you for your time, Colonel, and thank you again for the opportunity to see the Embassy.”

T'Lani nodded, "It has been a pleasure meeting you Ma'am" she said as she opened the door. Outside stood two Guards, "I hope you will understand that I don't see you out, I have just been informed the Empress wishes to speak to me and has sent a channel." She walked through the door and turned, "Do svidaniya Kapitan." She bowed and turned in the direction of the communication chamber.

Virkov nodded in return, and followed the guards back to the foyer of the Embassy. This was going to be an interesting deployment.

<A joint post by Captain Virkov and Lieutenant Colonel T'Lani>

[Bridge, USS Normandie]
[April 11, 2386: 0900 hours]

“Captain on the Bridge!”

Virkov stepped through the turbolift doors, and said “As you were.” She looked around the bridge for a moment, mentally taking stock of where the consoles and stations were, before moving to the center seat. Sitting down, she pulled up the command console, and began to type out a formal request to Admiral Jellico to depart the starbase. They were implicit in her orders, but military protocol dictated that these archaic traditions were upheld.

The console was not responding. She closed it with a heaving sigh, and stood. Dropping to one knee, she pulled open the isolinear control panel from the base of the chair. She pulled several out and stacked them up neatly to her right. One at a time, she began to place them back in a completely different order. A few clicks and a soft hum confirmed she had placed them back correctly. Satisfied, she stood and sat back down into the seat, pulling up the now functioning console.

She pulled up the communications relay, and punched in a command. The sharp whine of the Boatswain’s whistle sounded throughout the ship.

“This is Captain Virkov. All hands report to duty stations. Senior Staff, report to the Conference Room on Deck One for an immediate briefing. Cadets and Basic recruits, report to your quarters and await further instructions. Virkov out.”

She stood, and walked towards the doors leading to the Conference Room. Stalling for a moment, she turned and said “Chief, draft a formal request to raise anchor and break moorings. You have the Bridge.”

T’Lani stepped out of the turbolift as it finally reached the bridge. As she stepped onto the bridge she tucked her beret into a loop on her trousers and placed her swagger stick under her arm, “Ma’am” she said to the Captain as she followed her, “Are you well?”

Stepping into the conference room and taking a seat at the head of the table, Virkov said, “Yes, I’m fine, thank you Colonel. I like to have all hands at duty stations for a final run-through of everything before we depart Spacedock, so that we can catch anything of the last minute variety. I called the Senior Staff meeting so that I can get a status report and formally introduce myself to our new crew before we get underway.”

T’Lani followed the Captain’s lead and took a seat to her right at the furthest end of the table, “I agree Ma’am, it is best to get such matters out of the way before we heave anchor.” She had found it quite enjoyable to use out-dated Earth naval phraseology whilst on a starship. “Which of the Senior Staff do we have on board?”

“Aside from the two of us,” Virkov began, “the Chiefs of Science, Engineering, the senior security officer on board until we receive our formal Chief, and the Commander of our Air Group are present. I’m told we’re expected to receive the rest of the Senior Staff once we’ve arrived in our Area of Operations.”

T’Lani nodded, “Are these officers experienced?”

Nodding, Virkov said, “I have reviewed the service records of those who came aboard today. The CAG has some very highly distinguished marks, the Engineer is capable, and given my past experience with Engineers, I prefer to have a Vulcan there. So Sepeth will be perfect for the job. The Chief of Science seems to have been offered other positions, but decided to remain in the field of science. I’m very confident in our current Senior Staff. With your Imperial Guard and Marine training, I imagine this whole thing will go relatively smoothly until we meet up with the Ferengi, at which point diplomacy becomes a bit more sketchy.”

"I was unaware that I would be required to work in close proximity to Vulcans, Ma'am." she said in a controlled, and somewhat cold tone.

“I am aware that there is a bit of bad blood between your races, Colonel. I chose Sepeth for a reason. Of the last two chief engineers I have been assigned, one defected to the Maquis and destroyed my ship, and the second hijacked a shuttle to chase a Borg Sphere out of vengeance, leaving my Nova Class vessel crippled, and with only one small shuttlepod. I need someone who can perform his duties with emotional detachment, or I simply can’t trust him or her at this point. That may be a bit of a skewed view on things, but it’s the only way I can re-assure myself that I won’t have a repeat performance. Will you be able to maintain your professional candor? I don’t expect you to have to work closely with the Chief Engineer very often.”

"It would appear, Ma'am, that your previous crews were lacking in discipline," she said, it was not a condemnation of the younger woman, "I am of Rannus, I will do my duty," she said as if that were enough to answer any questions.

Virkov nodded, effectively ending that topic of discussion. “The senior security officer present is an Andorian by the name of Lieutenant ch’Ghorev. He was my executive aboard the White Star, and I have some experience working with him. I will have him and the few enlisted under his leadership presently report directly to you for the time being. You’ll find him to be professional and easy to work with, I’m certain. He comes highly recommended, after all.” She said the last with a bit of a smirk.

"I am sure I will, Ma'am," she paused, "although my previous experience with Fleet security personnel did not leave me with great expectation of their abilities. They find the Corps discipline and our manner of deportment somewhat alien."

“If my memory serves me correctly, he served in the Andorian Home Guard for a time. And trust me when I tell you, Colonel, that Shras has more discipline in his little finger than most of Starfleet’s Security forces.”

"I shall reserve judgement for now Ma'am," she said as she sat back in her chair. Her eyes flashed a bright red for a moment, she bowed her head and raised her hands in front of her, palms facing upwards. She mumbled for a few moments, before returning her attention to her Captain. She made no excuse for what happened.

Virkov arched an eyebrow, but made no comment.

Lieutenant Chewrath ch'Ghorev stepped briskly into the room, his eyes going immediately to the familiar face of Erszebet Virkov. His uniform was neat and tidy and his boot heels clicked together as he snapped to attention with the tiniest of smirks on his face. “Captain Virkov. It will be a pleasure to serve under you again. I am assuming that this is Lieutenant Colonel T’Lani.” He tipped his chin in respect to the other woman in the room, his antennae twitching slightly, both of them pointed at the Colonel.

T'Lani looked at the Andorian as he entered. She looked him up and down, her eyes glowing once again for a moment before returning to their normal blood red colour. "Please take a seat Lieutenant," she looked at him directly, "You are aware of who our Commanding Officer is." she paused, "I am Lieutenant Colonel T'Lani, the Executive Officer of the Normandie." she did not offer her hand, unlike a normal greeting it was more in the style of a statement of fact.

Shras relaxed his stance and took a seat at the table, as requested. “I am, Colonel. The Captain and I have served together before, aboard the White Star, to be precise.” He tipped his head to one side and smiled in a stiff, sort of uncomfortable way. “It is a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to working with you over the duration of our journey.”

T'Lani did not respond; the Andorian was simply stating a fact that she already knew and had alluded to... "After a discussion with the Captain," she nodded her chin ever-so-slightly towards her Commanding Officer, "It has been decided that I shall over-see the Security and Tactical Department until such a time as the assigned Chief arrives to take up his or her position."

Shras nodded in acknowledgement. “That seems reasonable to me.”

“I am glad you agree Lieutenant,” she said. It was not clear if she was being sincere or sarcastic.

Shras seemed to take no notice or offense to her mannerisms, instead he smiled again, his head still tipped sideways, almost as if he was listening with the two quivering stalks on the top of his head. “Very good. Do you have a current assignment for me, Colonel? If not, I will spend my time familiarizing myself with the duty roster. I feel that it is important to know the people I will be working alongside.”

"Once we have left Spacedock I shall be liaising with yourself and my Sergeant Major to carry out joint training exercises with the Marine Detachment and the Security Personnel," she paused, "I feel the best way to get to know your colleagues is in the field of battle, Lieutenant, as I am sure you would agree."

“I do most heartily agree, Colonel, although the organization we are currently working for sees merit in writing, so I choose to review their method as well. I have many training exercises that I have written myself. I will submit them for your approval and changes, if they can be used at all. I will, of course, leave that to your discretion,” Shras said calmly.

"We shall see, Lieutenant, although for the time being I prefer to use established and tested Marine Corps training programmes." she turned her attention to the door as it opened again.

The sudden realization that the Conference room was already half filled took Lieutenant Fedorov almost by surprise as the door parted. The sudden and very uncomfortable feeling of being late at her first briefing crossed her mind so fast that she could have almost felt it smashing the back of her head violently.

Elena looked around at the officers sitting around the table, trying very hard to compose herself and to assign to each of the faces that were suddenly staring at her a name, from the duty roster she had tried to familiarize herself on the way here. Luckily, someone wearing Captain ranks was sitting at the table, almost grinning at her.

“I do apologize,” she said almost in a mumble. “I didn’t realize it took me so long to arrive here.” She took a couple of steps in the direction of Captain Virkov, and handed her the PADD with her orders. “Lieutenant Fedorov reporting from duty, Sir, I had barely arrived aboard when I heard your call.”

“No apologies necessary, Lieutenant. Please take a seat next to Lieutenant ch’Ghorev,” Virkov said. “We’re still waiting on the other members of the Senior Staff to arrive, and we’ve only convened moments ago.”

Elena sat down in the closest empty chair, evidently somewhat relaxed in knowing she wasn’t the last one they had been waiting for. “It’s a pleasure to finally arrive aboard, the memory of the journey here on that cramped runabout is definitely something I’m happy to see pass by in the distance.” She scanned the rest of the table, and while she wasn’t completely sure who the officer wearing the yellow collar of security was, the unmistakable figure sitting opposite to her was clearly that of the First Officer. She barely managed a nod in her direction as a salute.

T'Lani could sense the fear and discomfort screaming from the young woman's mind, she was nothing more than a child really. But T'Lani couldn't resist some covert fun, she looked at the woman and flashed her eyes at her. No-one else had noticed her do it, and she suppressed a smile, "Lieutenant." she said in a cold tone with her attention half on the woman and half still on the Blue thing next to her.

A cold, almost icy, stinging shiver ran down Elena’s spine. She gulped, hoping to manage to conceal it to the eyes of the others. This being was quite literally looking through her, or at least, this was what her crawling skin was telling her. She lowered her eyes, trying to find some comfort in the black sleek surface of the conference table.

"I am curious as to why your last posting lasted for such a short period of time, Lieutenant Fedorov," said T’Lani with her eyes still half on her and half on the Andorian. “Did not battle rouse you?”

Elena would have gladly taken on an entire division of Breen soldiers with her bare hands, more than having to sustain that gaze again, but she forced to raise her head.

“With the sudden shift of gear in the Breen crisis, the Fleet had thought best to re-organize personnel assignments along the border. I was, so to speak, better needed elsewhere, but I am not ashamed of admitting I didn’t enjoy my first experience in battle, Colonel.”

T'Lani raised an eyebrow in a manner that a Vulcan Kolinahr master would have been proud of...if pride wasn't an emotion. She did not speak for several moments, "Quite."

The unsettled lieutenant was spared any further embarrassment as the door opened again, admitting a man dressed in Starfighter Command blue. He was reasonably tall, with his sandy hair cut just so and cold, grey eyes.

Scanning the room with those eyes, he focused on the Captain and snapped to attention.

“Lieutenant Mike West reporting for duty, ma’am.” His voice was hard and professional, matching his demeanour. “Sorry for the delay, I’ve been down in the hanger inspecting the hardware.”

“Welcome aboard the Normandie, Lieutenant. Please take a seat. What’s the condition of the fighters in compliment? I’ve not had the time to do my official inspection of the ship yet,” Virkov asked, gesturing to a chair.

Mike inclined his head politely towards Virkov and took an empty seat next to the Vulcan - no, Romulan - XO.

“The fighters are still being prepped, but we should be launch capable by the time the Normandie shoves off, sir. Mission capability is another matter, though. My squad’s got talent but no experience. I’ll want to see some sim runs before I consider launching in combat."

T’Lani spoke in her now familiar cold and crisp tone, “I look forward to your reports, Lieutenant.” her eyes flashed as the door opened again to reveal a Vulcan in the gold of Engineering. She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them again.

A tall Vulcan with a shaved head stepped through the door onto the bridge. He straightened his uniform smoothly and announced his presence. "Chief Engineer Lieutenant Sepeth reporting for the senior staff briefing, Captain."

T’Lani turned her attention to the Russian woman who looked far older than her few 50 or so years, “I believe we can begin now Captain.” she said, obviously cutting over the Vulcan. He glanced across the room and met her gaze momentarily, but exhibited no further physical reaction. The Vulcan engineer found a seat and folded his hands on the table in silence.

Virkov stood, and cleared her throat as she walked to the large panel behind the conference table. Turning to the replicator next to it, she said “Chamomile Tea.” She picked the mug up, taking a small sip as she entered a few commands into the panel.

“Once this meeting is concluded, I’m going to make my final inspection of the ship. However, I wanted to meet with all of you to formally introduce myself and get a few things out of the way. My name is Erszebet Virkov, and I have been a commanding officer in Starfleet for quite some time. This will be my third command, and the second one to bear the name Normandie,” she said.

“However, you can read all of this in my service record. I have had this discussion with Lieutenant Colonel T’Lani already, but the rest of you will need to be informed as well. We are currently short staffed, and are expected to receive more crew once we arrive in our area of operations. We currently have most of our junior positions being filled by cadets and recruits. We are expected to teach them the proper discipline, decorum, and tradition while they serve their time with us. That is the reason for this ship’s very existence. It is the reason we are out here.”

She took another sip, a playful smirk playing on her face. “Luckily,” she began, “we will have help with that. Computer, activate Ship-based Advanced Relay Avatar Hologram and initiate through-put routine.”

A younger woman materialized next to Virkov. She had a slight build, soft blonde hair, and was wearing a duty uniform with a white collar.

“This is SARAH. I have worked with her aboard one of my previous commands, as has Lieutenant ch’Ghorev. She will be handling most of the instructing of the cadets and recruits. Trust me when I tell you she is fully capable of doing so. We have one of the most advanced LCARS available aboard the Normandie, and all of the information stored in the Academy databanks can be accessed by SARAH.”

Nodding, the hologram said, “Greetings to you all. I look forward to assisting you in any way that I can. I am programmed to take the place of any crew member should the need arise, and due to full holo-mapping of the Normandie’s interiors, I am capable of manifesting multiple avatars in multiple locations. I will replace the Normandie’s computer in all matters.”

Mike raised an eyebrow. That presented serious possibilities. Two chairs down, Sepeth examined the artificial intelligence with fascination, impressed by the bleeding-edge technology that it represented.

“As a point of contention, because some of you will consider this, I’m certain... SARAH has been programmed to know when and when not to interrupt someone, and understands every possible definition of the word ‘discretion.’ She won’t go airing your personal secrets, and she is not programmed to be a gossip.” Turning to the hologram again, Virkov said, “Thank you SARAH, that will be all.” SARAH nodded, and disappeared.

“The area of operations we’ve been assigned to is a brand new sector of space that no one has ever bothered to explore yet, and it’s right here in our own backyard, the Alpha Quadrant. To get there, we’ll be travelling between Ferengi and Breen Space for a few days. Once on station, we’ll be reporting to Admiral Holden aboard the USS Endeavour. I would like to make an excellent first showing once we arrive, and have all personnel at combat and deployment readiness status. We will have to be on our toes out there.

“Are there any questions?”

Mike raised a hand. “What are the chances of hostile contact en route?”

“Chances of hostile contact en route to our AoO are slim to none. The area we’ll be traversing is surrounded by some of our less than stalwart allies, but the Breen have been quiet as of late, and I highly doubt the Ferengi have the testicular fortitude to attack a Federation ship of the line. That said, I’d like us to conduct some combat drills before we get to the Endeavour and report in for further assignment. I’ll keep you advised.”

Sepeth tapped at the LCARS display embedded in the tabletop and inclined his head. “Captain? A routine check of the duty roster indicates that the engineering department is greatly understaffed. I have personal experience training engineering recruits, and therefore offer my services in instructing general operations cadets, should you find it prudent for them to assist with the shorthanded engineering section.”

“We’re all short-staffed at the moment, Lieutenant. If you see fit to re-task any of the enlisted and junior officers in Operations to assist in Engineering, please do so and advise me of the changes. I’ll be overseeing Operations for the time being until we get our Chief.”

The Vulcan bowed his head slightly. “Very well. I will post a bulletin calling for volunteers interested in broadening their engineering skill set. I shall enumerate any personnel who respond thereto at your convenience, Sir.”

“There’s no need for a bulletin, Lieutenant. If you need the crew, pull them. Anyone with basic warp theory and technical training could be of some assistance to you. Just pull the ones you need, make an executive decision as to whom you can use, and report the list to myself or Colonel T’Lani so the appropriate changes to the duty roster can be made.”

Sepeth bowed again. “As you wish, Sir.” He looked over at T’Lani for a beat, then began perusing the duty roster to select a group of cadets.

Considering the matter closed, she looked around the table expectantly for any other questions.

Elena followed the Captain’s eyes around the table, studying her new colleagues while trying to blend in with the rest of the Conference Room. Staff briefings, especially those clearly non specifically tailored on a Scientific mission always seemed to last an eternity to her. On the small display in front of her, embedded in the table, the list of the people in her Department was slowly scrolling down. She wasn’t really happy about the decision to avoid the Badlands and run down the long corridor from Deep Space 3 bordering Breen space as she had hoped to avoid the icemen for a little while longer than this. Starfleet, as usual, appeared to have a different take on the matter.

T’Lani’s eyes flashed slightly, “I expect your departmental status reports within the hour.” she said as a statement of fact rather than a request.

Mike’s face remained neutral, but his heart sank slightly. He’d been on the Normandie less than an hour - he hadn’t even met his department yet. Nodding crisply, he snapped off a quick departmental email to the pilots and support staff assigned to Juno Squadron, calling a meeting in half an hour. He’d spend whatever time he had between the end of this meeting and then confirming his initial thinking on the five Gryphon fighters sitting in the Normandie’s starboard hangar.

Sepeth stood, staring coldly at the Romulan. “Then there is much work to be done and time is short.” He turned to Virkov. “By your leave, Captain, are we dismissed?”

T’Lani hid a smile, “Yes Lieutenant, I looked over the sensor readings on my arrival, and they appear to be out by a margin of 8%, which needs to be rectified.” she then turned her attention to the Captain, “May I dismiss the staff Ma’am?”

Virkov stood, and smoothed out her uniform. Turning to T’Lani, she said “You may, Colonel. I’ll be making my final inspection of the main areas of the ship presently, if you would like to join me. Otherwise, you have the Bridge.”

T’Lani rose to her feet as soon as her Captain did. She was surprised the rest of the staff didn’t appear to move. She then spoke in a loud and commanding tone, “Attention on deck!” As they quickly rose she looked to the Captain, “I shall assume the bridge Ma’am, there remains the arrangement of the marine and security training schedule.” She gave her Captain a polite nod, and watched as the woman left.

It was obvious the staff were ready to go, but now she had them alone T’Lani decided to stamp her authority as the new XO. “Before you are dismissed I would like to make it clear, that although I am a Marine, I am fully trained in all aspects of naval protocol and history, and as such I expect nothing less than each of you excelling in your duties. Anything below perfection will not be tolerated. I hope I am clear.” Her eyes flashed red, “Dismissed!”

<A Joint Post by Capt Virkov, LtCol T'Lani, and Lts Shras, Fedorov, Sepeth, and West.>

[Bridge, USS Normandie]
[July 20, 2386 1837 Hours]

T’Lani crossed one leg over the other as she sat rigidly upright in the Command Chair, she was several hours into supervising the Cadets and a few junior officers on the late watch, the Captain had retired to her Ready Room several hours ago. T’Lani did not enquire as to the reason for this, nor had the Captain offered any such reason. T’Lani and the Captain had reached a point in their new relationship were they allowed one another to get on with their roles and not to second guess one another. It appeared to be working quite well, although T’Lani had to remind the younger Russian that at times it wasn’t seemly for a Command Officer to be in her uniform vest covered in dirt laying under a terminal trying to fix it, rather than having one of their staff do so.

“Sir.” said the Cadet sitting at the science terminal.

“How do you address a female senior marine officer Cadet?” she said in a controlled tone without looking at him.

“Sorry...Ma’am.”

“What is it Cadet?”

The young Bolian tried his best to hide his nerves, he had carried out several late watches with T’Lani, but he had never spoken without being spoken to first; he would have made an excellent Marine. “I am detecting a weak Starfleet beacon. There are no other vessels as listed as being in this area.”

T’Lani raised an eyebrow, she still hadn’t turned to face the Cadet, “Is there an identity code with the beacon?”

“Yes Si...Ma’am” he corrected himself, “The USS Wanderer.”

T’Lani accessed the terminal in the arm of the command chair and brought up the information on the USS Wanderer.

“She’s meant to be on the other side of Federation space” added the Science Cadet.

“Thank you Cadet, I am quite capable of reading.” she said without a hint of emotion in her voice, yet the sardonic rebuke was evident. The Wanderer was listed less than a week ago acting as medical aid to a planet some 10,000 light years away.

“Helm set course for the signal propoting to be the USS Wanderer” she glanced at the arm-screen, “56171.9. Warp 5.”

She watched as the Cadet in-put the information, although she was a lot slower than T’Lani would have liked, her speed and abilities were quite in keeping for a Cadet of her age and experience. She watched in silence as the ship went to warp, the stars began to stream past. She made a quick calculation that it would take them less than 17 minutes to reach the supposed Wanderer at their current speed, “ETA Cadet?”

“18 minutes or so Ma’am.”

“Or so Cadet? I would like specifics.”

The Cadet sighed, T’Lani chose to ignore it at that moment, but would bring it up with her later, “17 minutes and 20 seconds... Ma’am.”

“Cadet send standard greeting to USS Wanderer, offer our assistance and request explanation of their reason for being in this area..” she said to the Security Cadet

“Aye Ma’am.” he tapped out the commands and waited several long minutes before responding, “No return signal Ma’am.”

“Acknowledged.” she turned the chair slightly to face the security terminal, “Any suggestions Cadet?”

The Andorian looked perplexed for a moment, “Prepare weapons for a possible hostile attack?”

“Perhaps you should consider our alert status Cadet?” she said, offering him some help in answering her question.

“Shi...yes...sorry Ma’am...I suggest we go to yellow alert.”

T’Lani nodded, “Yellow Alert.” the lights on the bridge dipped almost instantly, “Captain Virkov to the Bridge. All-hands, Yellow Alert.”

The door of the ready room opened, “Captain on the Bridge!” said T’Lani in a loud voice as she stood up, at alert status if was not expected for the other bridge staff to rise when the Captain entered. T’Lani side stepped to her own exec’s chair, “Captain Virkov, you have the Bridge.”

“As you were,” Virkov said, brushing her hair to one side to smooth it down again, and sitting down in center seat. “Status report, Colonel.”

T’Lani took her own chair once the Captain was seated, and placed her swagger stick across her lap as she spoke, “Signal received, identified Wallace-class USS Wander, under the Command of Lieutenant Julian Durand. Latest status report, last week, had the Wander on an aid mission 10,000 light years from her current location. ETA at signal co-ordinates, 13 minutes.”

Virkov put her hand to her chin pensively for a moment, and then pulled up the console on her armrest, to review the stats and specs of the Wanderer. There was no conceivable way that a ship of that size and speed could make it that far over the course of a week...meaning this was either a trap, or something was very seriously wrong.

“Don’t just accept friendly identification, Cadet. Verify that we’re dealing with a Federation vessel and not a mask of some kind.”

The Bolian danced his fingers across the console for a moment, and reported “Long range sensors verify Starfleet Warp Core signature ma’am. It’s definitely one of ours.”

Virkov turned to T’Lani and nodded. “Well I see we’re already at yellow alert. Maintain current course and speed, and continue to try to raise them on all channels. We will presume their communications systems are down, but nonetheless let us remain vigilant and follow the book. If there’s any change in the status report it to me immediately.”

She turned to T’Lani and lowered her voice a bit. “Colonel, in your opinion will the Wanderer have enough space to be brought aboard the Hangar deck, or should we make preparations for docking? I know she will technically fit, but we’re packed in both hangars right now.”

T’Lani didn’t respond immediately, “By using our surplus anti-gravity winches we could in-theory double-up the fighters allowing room for a Wallace-class should the situation warrant it Captain.”

“Very well. Lieutenant Colonel T’Lani, I need you to take personal command of Hangar Deck 2 and make provisions to bring the Wanderer aboard then. See to it that the crew is prepared for any eventuality that may occur.”

“Ma’am, would not the CAG and Deck-Master be more suited to over-seeing such operations? If the Wanderer is in need of assistance, regulations would require that I lead any away team that may need to board the vessel.” she asked in her usual neutral tone.

“At which point we will assemble an away team and do that, however you have more experience in dealing with critical situations than the deck-master, who is currently a Senior Class Cadet, and the CAG has no experience in this type of situation. My orders stand.”

T’Lani nodded and rose to her feet, “As you wish Captain” she turned on her heel, “Cadet Nasota, with me.” she said to the Cadet seated at the auxiliary science terminal as she moved towards the turbo-lift.

<Joint post between a couple of NPCs, Capt Virkov, and LtCol T'Lani>

Five sleek starfighters soundlessly cruised through open space.

They were flying in formation, a loose flying V. Too loose for the small squadron's leader.

"Juno Five, tighten up formation."

"Roger, Juno Leader."

In the cockpit of the Gryphon fighter designated Juno One, Mike West watched as Juno Five slid closer to Juno Four, bringing the formation together. He repressed a sigh. These kids were decent enough in a simulated dogfight, but they lacked discipline, experience, and - most importantly - unit cohesion. Still, the latter was to be expected after only nine days as a squadron.

After running some preliminary sim runs, he'd assigned roles for each of his pilots. Juno Two, one James Croft, had shown remarkable situational awareness and the devil's own luck. He was also the worst of the lot in terms of actual discipline, and his academy transcript featured several citations for ignoring orders in sim runs. In an attempt to keep him in line, Mike had designated the cadet Juno Two and adopted him as his own wingman.

The other three, Rob Tucker, La'roj and Carla O'Malley, were solid enough that he'd assigned them as Junos Three, Four and Five respectively and set them up as a wing-trio. Ideally, he'd have commanded three wing-pairs, but as his father had been fond of saying, it was nice to want things.

His scanner trilled a warning. "Heads up, Junos," he snapped, pulling back on the stick to rear Juno One back on its axis, "incoming starship."

He noted with some satisfaction the squadron's reaction time as they matched his manoeuvrings, only a second behind. Ahead of the newly oriented flight group, a large shape erupted from warp in a flourish of colour.

"Klingon Vo'quv-class carrier, confirmed," said Croft over the comm. "Range, thirty kilometers. Look at the size of it!"

"Keep it professional, Juno Two."

"Sorry, sir." Croft's voice seemed contrite enough. As they spoke, fighters began to launch from the Vo'quv's hangers. Without hesitation, they began to make their way towards the Federation squadron.

"Ideas, people?" asked Mike.

"Sir, a torpedo barrage might thin their numbers before they hit phaser range," suggested O'Malley.

"Good," replied Mike. "Junos, target individual fighters and arm photorps."

A quick chorus of "copy" was his reply. He set about suiting words to actions when the simulation abruptly ended, leaving the five members of Juno Squadron sitting on air a meter above the floor of the Normandie's holodeck.

West landed better than his compatriots, rolling with the impact and quickly standing. He noted the subdued yellow lighting around the deck and waited for his pilots to do the same.

"Sir, yellow alert." Croft was the first of them. That silenced the complaints from O'Malley and Tucker. Aware that he had his squad's attention, West nodded crisply to Croft. "Well spotted. We're at alert, which means we have a duty, Junos. Combat alert. Head for the ready room and suit up. I'll brief you as soon as I have something."

With that, he swept out of the holodeck. By the time La'roj made it out after him, all that was visible of the Lieutenant was a leg disappearing into a turbolift.

"Bridge," West snapped to the lift. Tapping his badge, he twitched the fingers of his left hand restlessly as the car moved.

Moments later, he was there. "Captain, what's the situation?" he said without pleasantries.

Virkov looked up and smirked, letting out a sharp exhale. The man's timing was impeccable. Only minutes before had T'Lani left to head to the hangar deck. They must have missed each other by seconds, at most.

"Ah, Lieutenant West. While I applaud your diligence in reporting to the Bridge during a Yellow Alert situation, your timing couldn't be worse. Colonel T'Lani was counting on you to report to your duty station in the Hangar Bay. We've found a lost Wallace class out there. She's about 10,000 light years from where we last reported her on the fleet manifest. Report to Colonel T'Lani, she'll be overseeing the operation."

If West was affected by the Captain's mild jab, it didn't show in his face. "Yes, sir," he replied smartly. "Juno Squadron will be ready to launch at the Colonel's discretion, then."

With that, he turned and re-entered the lift. "Hanger 2," he ordered, and was gone.

Inwardly, he chuckled at himself as the lift descended into the bowels of the ship. It should have been second nature to scramble to fighters as soon as the alert had sounded, but he was out of practice and dealing with a group of cadets, to boot. Truth be told, he didn't think the squadron was ready for a live launch yet. And so, he'd stalled. Oh well, at least now he knew the situation.

The lift disgorged him onto the hanger deck, where crews of cadets were busy moving his fighters into neat piles. He snorted. So much for a live launch.

Spotting the distinctive Marine Corp green uniform, he trotted across the deck to Colonel T'Lani.

"You're bringing the Wallace aboard?" he asked as he surveyed the moving work. If hie eyeball estimates were right, and his memory served about the Wallace's size, it'd be a tight fit, but doable.

ON:
[USS Normandie - Bridge]

Cadet Senior Grade Luna Konev took in the report from Communications and Tactical. A Wallace-class Patrol Boat showing up on the sensors and identified as the Wanderer. A fitting name considering that it somehow ended on the other side of Federation Territory some 10,000 light years away. Tactical had queried its mission status, presumably to see if it was a threat to operations in the area. Luna's job was to shuttle that information.

Working her terminal but looking over her shoulder to the Captain, she was lucky "Babushka Virkova" hadn't found a need to tear into her ass yet. Retrieving the most recent mission report from Lieutenant Julian Durand in the Relay, the Intelligence Operations Cadet scanned the file and sent it to Tactical.

"Incoming vessel." The Bolian Science Cadet announced. "Its a Ferengi Marauder, it has dropped out of Warp some 50 thousand kilometers beyond the Wanderer."

The mood of the Bridge changed. A Ferengi D'Kora-class Marauder came into the view of the main screen in a foreboding manner, adding to the mystery of these current events. Luna knew that her services would be demanded of very shortly. She fingers hammered her terminal as she pulled all the information she could find on the Marauder, her identification codes, and her last reported location and assumed mission.

Virkov looked across the Bridge at the Intelligence station, and asked "Who are they and what are they doing here, Cadet?"

"D'Kora-class Marauder, the Kreechtin. Daimon Garr commanding. Registered as an Eight Acquisition Fleet Exploratory Vessel and configured in Warship apparatus." Cadet Konev replied. "Known last to be patrolling the Badlands."

Virkov rolled her eyes and stood. First a lost Starship, and now the Ferengi bearing down on them. This day was turning out to be far more interesting than she had planned.

"Well then, I suppose it's a good thing we're at Yellow Alert. Open hailing frequencies, let us see what our esteemed friends want today."

Garr's face appeared on the screen, with a large toothy grin.

"This is Captain Virkov of the USS Normandie. We are currently engaged in rescue operations of the Starfleet vessel which I'm sure you've picked up on your sensors. Is there something that the Federation can do for you today?" she asked.

"I am Daimon Garr of the Kreechtin," the man replied, somewhat dismissively. "We found this vessel derelict on our sensors and are claiming salvage rights. Return to your previous heading immediately, and do not interfere."

Virkov arched an eyebrow, and cleared her throat. "Daimon Garr, you appear to have misheard me, so I will re-iterate my previous statement. There are wounded men and women aboard that starship, which is Federation property..."

Interruping, Garr replied "It is a glorified runabout at best, Captain! And how curious that you detect lifesigns aboard! We detect none! We will continue with the departicalization process, and continue our salvage, as is our right upon discovery of a derelict starship."

"You will do no such thing! Have you no respect for the sanctity of sentient life? More to the point what possible use could you have for scrapping a vessel of that size, other than scavenging like a pack of salivating dogs? I have wounded men and women aboard that ship, and I will not have you stand in the way of rescuing them!"

"Ah, so you say, Captain. However as I said, we detect no lifesigns whatsoever aboard that ship. I am certain, Captain, that I do not need to remind you of salvage laws in unclaimed territory. Chapter 15, Article 4 of the Federation Salvage Law states that..."

"I don't have time for this," Virkov muttered under her breath. "Red Alert. Bridge to CAG, scramble fighters. All hands, battle stations. Arm all batteries. Helm lay in an intercept course. Tactical, stand by full spread quantum and photon torpedoes, and phasers."

"WAIT, WAIT, WAIT!" Garr yelled. "Perhaps...we can come to an agreement, Captain." He seemed to spit the last word as if it were a moldy bit of bread.

"I don't negotiate with terrorists, Daimon Garr. So here is my proposition: We continue with our rescue mission, and you turn around and go back to whatever under the sun it was that you were doing.

"Failing that, however, I'm certainly open to go toe to toe with you, and impress upon you the capabilities of a Starfleet ship of the line. I'm sure the taste of a full armory of torpedoes and the sting of my starfighters will be palatable to both yourself and the Grand Nagus when you go limping back to Ferenginar in a broken ship."

Garr glared icy daggers through the viewscreen, and then changed his face to a broad smile again.

"We will allow you to conduct your...rescue mission, Captain Virkov of the Normandie, in the interest of keeping peace between Ferenginar and the Federation. However make no mistake, we will be monitoring you to claim salvage rights on the ship once your rescue has been completed. Garr out."

Sitting down again, Virkov said "Stand down to Yellow Alert, abort launch of fighters, and helm continue on our current intercept to the Wanderer. Lieutenant Sepeth to the Bridge immediately."

**

[USS Normandie - Main Fighter Hangar]

In the Normandie's hanger, chaos had reigned for a few moments as the work to clear space suddenly shifted to combat launch preparation. At Mike's order, the four new pilots of Juno Squadron, freshly clad in black and blue flightsuits with helmets tucked beneath their arms had double-timed to the hanger...

...Where nothing proceeded to happen. As the deck crew began to reverse the unloading procedure they'd begun on his fighter, West turned away from the industry to check on his pilots. Croft and La'roj looked deeply unimpressed, while Tucker and O'Malley seemed more accepting of the reversal.

"Believe it or not," he said to them, "this is the result we wanted. A launch order followed by a stand-down. O'Malley!" The young woman snapped to attention. "What does that mean?"

"The opposing force backed down?" she turned her answer into a question, clearly on unfamiliar ground.

"Exactly right," replied West. He consulted a PADD a deckhand had passed him from the Colonel, hmm-ed and lowered it.

"The opposing force today is a Ferengi D'Kora-class Marauder. Right now we're back on yellow alert, cadets. Keep your helmets where you can reach them. I want you back in the ready room. You will formulate four different strategies to disable a D'Kora-class Marauder using only our five fighters. Get moving!" As he barked the final words, Mike felt a twinge of satisfaction he'd not felt since starting this assignment. His life might have lurched hard to port, but at least he was still on the hanger deck in the middle of a crisis - exactly where he needed to be.

Keeping the cadets mentally occupied during as the situation continued to unfold would work nicely. They'd be spared some of the anxiety of the long wait before a launch order, and he'd get some valuable ideas about their tactical knowledge and how they thought in a crisis.

He turned back towards Colonel T'Lani to continue prepping the hanger.

**

[Main Engineering, U.S.S. Normandie]
[Just a moment ago]

"...there are twelve hard-dock latches and magnetic irises that serve to prevent the antimatter from coming into contact with the inner walls of its storage container, thereby preventing catastrophic annhiliation of the unwary engineer or careless salvage pirate."

Some of the gathered gaggle of operations and engineering recruits chuckled at the Vulcan's unexpected sense of humor, which he had begun using as a teaching tool since discovering that it boosted information retention rates by a statistically significant amount.

"So what does the wise, wary engineer do before transporting antimatter or refueling?"

A barrel-chested human male with an E3 collar insignia guffawed, self-assuredly. "Check the latches and magnets, so we don't end up scraping crewmate parts off the ceiling." Some other male recruits laughed heartily, in a manner that the Vulcan had learned served as a bonding behavior among human males.

Sepeth raised an eyebrow. "You are correct, although routine cleanup and janitorial services fall outside of our expected responsibilities." The E3 quit laughing, looked down and knitted his brows, as though he were trying to make his brain work again.

The lesson was cut short when the call came: "...Lieutenant Sepeth to the Bridge immediately."

The Vulcan tapped his commbadge. "On my way, Captain." He turned to the highest-ranking engineering recruit, an Andorian. "You're in charge. Until I return, you are to continue discussing antimatter storage and transfer with the operations cadets." The Andorian nodded solemnly, and Sepeth continued, "All other engineering recruits are to observe yellow alert and continue monitoring automatic Level 4 system diagnostics. Transmit salient data to the main bridge engineering display for my perusal."

Turning on his heel, the Vulcan marched out of the room at a brisk clip. Once he had been gone for a few moments, the barrel-chested E3 addressed the Andorian that Sepeth had placed in charge. "Hey, we don't have to keep this snoozefest going, do we? I hear there's some amazing holoprograms on this ship!" He elbowed the nearest recruit, who happened to be female. She yanked her arm away and rubbed it; not because it hurt, but because she wanted to rub off any unprofessionalism that had been transfered to her uniform by the class clown.

The Andorian tilted his head to the side, slightly. "Let me see... what is the human term for this action? Ah, yes. You are fired. Return to your operations chief. A report of your disregard for authority under yellow alert will be waiting for you to sign when you arrive."

The E3's jaw dropped, but the Andorian was clearly dead serious. "A...Apologies, Sir," he mumbled, before trudging wild-eyed back to his original duty post.

"Now," said the Andorian, stepping into his temporary role as though he had always been the teacher, "What materials are best suited for long-term antimatter storage?"

**
[USS Normandie - Bridge]

Lieutenant Fedorov had kept herself out of the verbal confrontation with the Ferengi Daimon, carefully observing both Captain Virkov's handling of the situation, and her sensor readings.

So early on a new assignment, both aspects of her job were as interesting, as the Insigna-class and her commanding officer were all to be explored.

"No specific indications, yet, as to how or why the Wanderer could have arrived here, Captain." Elena called out for all the officers and cadets on the bridge to hear. "I am narrowing down our readings as we speak, and as we get closer I might be able to give you some answers."

As she finished speaking, the doors of the turbolift opened.

Lieutenant Sepeth entered the main bridge and announced himself. "How may I be of service, Captain?"

Virkov stood, and pointed at the view screen.

"Aboard that Marauder is one very angry Ferengi who fully intends to claim salvage rights on the Wanderer. At present speed, we'll be intercepting the Wanderer shortly. Before we get there, I need you to pull the warp core specs. Once we've rescued her crew, we're going to deny them of what is at best a very loose ended salvage right to the ship."

She walked to the Engineering station, and said in a more hushed tone "I've got Colonel T'Lani working with Lieutenant West to stack out the fighters and bring the Wanderer aboard. During the process of getting the wounded off the boat, I need you and a small team to go in and salvage anything useful out of her except for the warp core. We're working with the presumption that the power is out, so we won't be able to manually arm her auto destruct to keep her out of the Ferengi's hands. You'll need to manually trigger a controlled breach so that we can get to safe distance after shoving her out."

Turning to address Fedorov, she said "I want you to take very detailed scans of the Wanderer, and once we have her in the Hangar Bay, use the internal sensors to see if we can shed any light into this mystery."

"I will perform a full analysis of the ship, anything powerful enough to have it hauled all the way here is bound to have left some traces behind," Fedorov commented in response.

Cadet Konev agreed, prodding her terminal for any information. Any hint or hunch might be needed shortly. Coincidences of this magnitude were rarely followed by good luck.

<OFF>
A Joint Post of Not-So Mutually Assured Destruction by:

Cadet Luna Konev
Intel Operations

Captain Erszebet Virkov
Commander of the Normandie

Lieutenant Elena Nikolaevna Fedorov
Chief Science Officer

Lieutenant Michael West (NPC)
Commander of Air Group

Lieutenant Sepeth of Vulcan
Chief Engineering Officer

Something about the ship's name triggered a vague memory. "Right away, Sir," said the Vulcan, and he pulled up a sensor readout on the derelict craft. Why is this ship familiar? the Vulcan wondered to himself. "Wallace class... cross-checking with LCARS database..." He was puzzled, but suppressed the urge to scratch idly at his scalp, instead summarizing a series of search queries, looking back and forth between the terminal and the sensor display.

"Your presumption proves correct, Sir, the vessel is without power, save for some emergency exterior lights. Sensors show multiple life-signs, and Starfleet records indicate that the Wanderer's last resupply was less than a month ago. Considering that the ship couldn't have traversed such a distance so quickly under only its own power, it is likely that there will be still plenty of slush deuterium and antimatter stored onboard, as well as raw food stock for the replicator."

Sepeth straightened his uniform and spoke in low tones. "I must return to Main Engineering briefly to obtain a standard precision phaser cutter for the..." he paused and glanced around before continuing, "...sabotage of the warp core."

[Virkov's Ready Room, USS Normandie]
[July 20, 2386 1900 Hours]

Virkov sat at her desk, tapping her fingers across the sleek surface, before opening up a communication line on the small screen.

The face of Admiral Holden appeared after a few minutes, looking somewhat preoccupied but pleasant as he had always been in their communications.

"Captain Virkov, what can I do for you today?"

"Sir, we have a bit of a situation out here. I'm sending you the intel we have now."

She watched as Holden's eyes darted across the screen, processing the information. After a minute, he sighed heavily, and nodded.

"Hell of a jump for a ship so small, especially so soon after a resupply. I'm sure that'll be an interesting story, to say the least. So what's the situation then, Captain?"

Virkov pursed her lips in thought for a moment and said "Frankly sir, I have no idea what to do with them. I can't take them back to their area of ops, and their ship is likely damaged beyond salvageable repair. Moreover the charming Ferengi Daimon is claiming salvage rights on the Wanderer under some archaic salvage code."

"Well you can tell the Ferengi to pound sand, Captain. Starfleet registry, Starfleet property. Salvage rights have nothing to do with it. As far as her not being able to be repaired, salvage whatever you can for spare parts. I know you don't have much room on the Normandie for extra craft."

Holden looked down for a moment, and said "As for the crew, I'll send a notice to Starfleet Command that they're being formally re-assigned to the Normandie until such time as we can find a permanent home for them, or until they request to be stationed elsewhere."

"That puts me in an odd position with the additional crew I'm supposed to be taking on next week sir," she said.

"It does, but the more interesting situation is going to be having the two aboard that you served with on the White Star. I'll take care of the paperwork, Captain. You take care of the Wanderer's crew...and Captain?"

"Sir?" she asked.

"If the two you served with previously don't want to repeat the experience..."

"No, no I would never order them outright to do it sir. I wouldn't blame them in the slightest bit if they don't feel comfortable with the thought," she said, in a softer tone.

"Good. Keep calm and carry on then. Holden out."

Virkov sighed as the man's picture disappeared from the screen, and began to re-draft the crew roster.

[Deck 1 Wardroom: USS Wanderer]
[Concurrent]

Julian looked up from the deck and focused his non-bandaged eye out of the viewport. He didn't know why he kept fixing his gaze out there. Nothing but a vast field of slowly drifting stars had been outside of the window for the better part of two hours. The crew had enough supplies to last for five days at maximum operational capacity. But they had additional people aboard, which would diminish the supplies to no more than two days, three if rationed.

As he was watching the same constellation drift by again, a soft outline of a gray saucer slowly came into view. He blinked once, twice. It didn't go away, and seemed to be edging closer and closer to the ship. Hopping to his feet much quicker than he should have, he dashed to the Bridge, and down to the pilot's station. A large starship was bearing down, although at a slow speed.

He knew they'd probably be trying to communicate, but there was no way he could reply to them with the state that the Wanderer was in at the moment. Still, a rescue was a rescue.

Half laughing, he yelled towards the bridge hatch, "You should probably come see this!"

Adam had just walked out of the bunkroom after waking from a nap when he heard the yell. He'd been thinking about heading up there anyway - the stargazing was better out the cockpit window. It made him feel like they were in some sort of control of the situation.

He jogged the short distance to the bridge and stopped at the top of the ramp down to what he and Corbet had taken to referring to the 'driving pit' - the lowered area at the front of the bridge in which the pilot sat, and where Julian sat now.

Directly in front of them was a starship. A Federation starship, if Adam was any judge.

"Well," he said sadly, "I guess this means the descent into cabin fever and anarchy is canceled."

Unable to keep his straight face any longer, he laughed along with Julian.

Eiri was also awake and heard Julian's call. He had been pouring over information on the species that stranded the Wanderer and adding in notes on what had happened to them. "Please tell me they're here to get us..." he said softly as he walked up to the first deck, PADD still in his hand. He was grateful to see the larger ship coming slowly, more and more into view. "Let us just hope that it is one of ours, eh?" He tried to smile a little.

Jake was lying on the floor unconscious. Slowly the darkness ebbed and Jake's eyes gradually opened.

"What the hell hit me?"

Jake shook his head in a motion to clear it, and felt on his head with large gash and blood seeping from it.

"Great"

Jake rose to his feet and looked around. He was in the bunk room along with a few other wounded crew members. He got up and made his way to the bridge. when he got there he saw that some of the crew including Julian were looking out at a ship that was approaching.

"So I take it we aren't gonna have to break out the field rations then...thank god. Those things taste like a Targ's rectal passage."

Just the thought made him feel ill, that or his head wound had caused a concussion. Jake moved to his station, and started looking to see if anything worked. Undoubtedly the ship approaching would be hailing or looking for signs the crew was responsive. From the looks of it only the ships exterior lights were intact... it was better than nothing.

"How many people do you think know Morse code these days? Coz if anyone knows it I think we can use the external lights to communicate with that ship."

Julian looked back, and said "Tried that already Ensign. The external lights may work, but none of our consoles in here are operational for us to fidget with them."

Wrapping an arm around Eiri's shoulder to stabilize himself, he winced a little, and pointed out the viewer with his middle finger.

"See the shape? Saucer, trailing nacelles, slim secondary hull? It's one of ours. Insignia or Sovereign by the look of it. We'll know once it comes into better view. Eiri, do me a favor and go round up the crew. I don't know if they're going to beam us in, or if they're going to tractor us and pull us into the hangar. Make sure Doctor Holmes is stabilized."

[Deck 2, U.S.S. Wanderer]
[a short time after the catastrophe]

She opened her eyes.

With a shove and a groan, Hayley hefted a surgical support frame that had crashed down on top of her from one of the biobeds. Luckily for her, it had come to rest above her as though she were a patient lying under it, and it had prevented flying debris from injuring her further. Praise the Lord... she thought, made it through with just a few bruises. She crossed herself and sighed deeply.

Now that things had seemed to settle down, Hayley clambered to her feet and suddenly felt light-headed, as though she were spinning. She grabbed onto the nearest engineering panel for support, and tried to tap out her login, but the console was dead. She stumbled to another, but it was unresponsive as well.

Her head was swimming. The last thing she remembered was grabbing a phaser and racing to engineering to try to alleviate the shaking caused by the earthquakes on Cirrus VI. She sat down on the floor to ease the vertigo and a thought suddenly came to her. A weak gasp escaped her lips.

"W... Wendy?" she breathed. She ran her fingers across the floor of the engineering deck, but no response came. No gentle hum, no beeping, no whirring of engines or machine parts. No pleasant chiming of a ship's computer that she'd named after a little girl in an old book; a little girl who was afraid to fly at first, but then learned to soar through the skies on fairy dust and happy thoughts. A tear rolled out of the wrinkled corner of Hayley's eye and dripped down her cheek. She sat helplessly on the ground, struggling to come up with some brilliant plan to save her best friend, the starship that she'd taught to swim, a friend with whom she had hoped to share many happy memories over the course of their time together.

She bit her lip and steeled herself. "Get it together, girlie," she commanded herself through gritted teeth. She heaved herself to her feet and hugged one of the biobeds that was still upright to steady herself. She nodded resolutely and declared, "I'll save you, Wendy. You can't..." she hesitated; "...I won't let you die."

____________________________________________

Hayley had fought past the disorientation of her spinning head, tried to access every last console on the lower deck, and had even crawled into the cramped, pitch-black subdeck to see if there were any hot wires or active access ports that she could patch together. There was black blood starting to pool under a couple of her fingernails from trying to pry off panels that had been dented in by whatever had caused all of this. Finally she had returned to the engineering section, where she now sat with her back against the wall, still dizzy, desperately digging through her mind to find something, anything, any morsel of training that she might use to end this nightmare. She stared, unblinking, unseeing, into the wreckage of her workspace, struggling in vain to find a magic bullet that didn't exist.

Ayan pulled himself out from under the helm console at Julian's call, his uniform covered in isolinear particles and other chemical compounds whose names he had known at the academy, but were now just hot stinging liquids number 1 and 2. He had been relatively uninjured in the recent events, barring a bloody and possibly broken nose that had already been bandaged.

He looked out of the window and grinned. "Prophets, that looks like good luck." He turned to Julian. "Makes me feel much better telling you that the flight controls are beyond dead. I was only under there for a minute, but it's not even just fried controls. It looks like someone vaporized the insides of everything in there. She's dead in space."

He walked over and gave Eiri's arm a pat. "And, if they're not one of ours, given how close they are, we won't even have time to notice that they'd shot torpedoes at us." He chuckled.

"Let me know if I can help. I'm still pretty mobile."

"Hey," said Adam, peering through the cockpit glass not at the incoming Starfleet ship, but in the other direction. "That's not one of ours..."

If the second approaching ship was Starfleet, it was from a completely new school of design. It was large and brown, with stubby, swept-forward wings and an almost insectoid look. Suddenly, the style clicked.

"That looks Ferengi," he said. "Where the hell did we wind up? They avoid the corridor like the plague."

Wincing a bit in pain, Julian looked the opposite direction, and saw the Marauder break it's course and station itself just slightly out of range.

"Ayan, you have the..." he scoffed slightly "what remains of the Bridge anyway. I'm gonna go below decks and see how everyone's doing. Ferengi, Federation, I don't really care at the moment as long as we can get the Wanderer repaired and figure out where the hell we are."

He walked down the steps, taking each one slowly as his head spun a bit. Deck 2 was in a terrible state of disarray, and seemed to have taken the brunt of the hit. Huddled over, her arms clutched around her legs, Hayley was sitting off to a corner near a broken console.

He trod over to her, and crouched down, looking her directly in the eye.

"Hayley...Hayley..." She didn't seem to respond initially, and had a slightly glossy look in her eye. At first she didn't realize that there was anyone else in the room, her tears blurring her vision in the darkness. She swallowed hard to clear her airway and blinked away the tears.

"C...C...Cap?" she stuttered as reality closed in on her like a coffin lid. She gulped again and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her jumpsuit.

Putting his hand gently on hers, Julian leaned in closer, and said "Hayley, I'm going to need your help. You gotta pull it together and help us get out of here before we lose life support. Now, there's a couple of ships out there, one's ours, one's Ferengi. We need to make sure we're strapped down, because they're gonna have to tractor us in...I need to...I need to know you're still with us."

"Still with us... still with us... still with us..." the statement echoed around in her throbbing head. "Tractor..." she murmured, still reeling from shock, despair, or both, calling to mind the image of an old busted farming vehicle that her dad had kept out back of the garage. She closed her eyes and firmly pressed the side of her fist to her forehead to keep her brain from leaking out, and then shook her head from side to side almost violently to try and snap out of her reverie.

"Life support..." she mumbled to herself. "I tried everything, Cap, honest I did. I can't do it, I couldn't save her... she won't even talk to me." She sniffled and sobbed into her sleeve. A sudden glimmer of recognition came over her, and she sat straight up. "Ships? Did you say ships?" she asked incredulously, running her hand into her red curls. "One's ours? Rescue?" Her exhausted mind raced, grabbing the new information like a relay baton. "Well what the Sam Hill are we waitin' for?" She took hold of Julian's forearm as he helped her to her feet. Her dizziness returned, and she stumbled awkwardly into Julian's surprised arms.

'Atta girl,' Julian thought, as he helped her to her feet.

"I'm gonna head up to the Bridge, see if we can get the docking hatch manually forced open once they bring us in."

He sighed, rubbed his hand through his hair for a minute, and said "Hayley...I need you to take a precision phase cutter and go down to the sub deck, where the computer core housing is. Somewhere in that crawlspace there will be a self-powered download component. I don't know if we can save the Wanderer, but we can save her LCARS and her core. Everything that makes her what she is. The component should be about the size of a briefcase. Once you've got it done, meet us up on the Bridge."

"You got it, Cap." Hayley stood on her own and brushed a couple of her escaped hairs off the front of Julian's uniform. "Sorry about that, Sir." She stumbled across the engineering deck to carry out his orders.

Rha was trying panels, creeping among the ruins of the second deck. Anything that was salvageable he was placing into a pile close to the main console. His fur was singed, the whiskers on one side of his face curling wildly from being burned. Occasionally he would sit back on his heels and look at a particular piece with interest. Vaguely, he was listening to the people talking, his sensitive ears picking up the sound easily.

When it registered that they might not have to scrounge parts because rescue was at hand, he stood and headed towards the voices, passing Eiri going the other way.

"Is anyone else over here? Has anyone seen Corbet?" the Vulcan asked.

Rha shook his blackened fur. "No, it's just me."

Eiri looked him over, assessing his condition quickly. "Will you find Julian? He was talking about needing help prying open a hatch."

Rha nodded in acknowledgement and continued on his way.

"Does anyone else feel like the rope in a tug of war?" asked Adam to the cockpit? The sharfleet ship - almost certainly an Insignia-class, now it was closer - and the Ferengi bruiser were both drawing closer, with the crippled Wanderer sitting between the two ships. He ran a hand through his hair, willing himself to think more clearly. The emergency beam-out, followed by... whatever had happened next... had knocked him around. He'd joined the wounded in the bunkroom, and felt better after a short rest, but he was still feeling off. Not that he'd ever admit it.

However it had happened, the Insignia seemed to have won the tug of war. Presently, the Ferengi cruiser came to a halt and held station away from the Starfleet ships, while the Insignia drew closer. With the gentlest of bumps, the larger ship's tractor beam ensnared the Wanderer and began to draw it in.

[Hangar Bay 2, USS Normandie]
[July 20, 2386: 1930 Hours]

Julian accepted the strong arm of a young cadet dressed in Starfighter Blues, and gingerly crawled down the ladder to the deck.

"Lieutenant, welcome aboard sir," the cadet said, with a polite grin on his face. "You would be Lieutenant Durand, the skipper of this boat?"

Julian clutched his side and clenched his jaw, breathing through the sharp knife of pain in his ribs. He knew at some point, a trip to the sickbay was going to be in order, and the sooner the better.

"We can take it from here, sir. I've been instructed to have you report to the Bridge. Captain Virkov wants to speak with you."

Julian nodded, and turned back to the Wanderer.

"Cadet?"

"Yes sir?"

"There is a woman aboard the Wanderer. Her name is Doctor Autumn Holmes, and she is responsible for saving our collective asses. I need you to make sure she's evacuated from the Wanderer directly to sickbay. She's stabilized, but she took a piece of debris through the leg."

Nodding, the cadet said "Aye sir, you got it."

Julian looked down at the disheveled state of his uniform. Burn marks scorched it's front, and there was a lateral tear down the entire length of the left arm. Hopefully the Captain of this ship would be in a somewhat understanding frame of mind after everything they had just gone through.

Stepping into the turbolift, Julian said "Bridge," with as much strength as he could muster.

The soft unfamiliar tone of the ship's computer rang through the turbolift car, and said "You are not currently assigned as a Bridge Officer on the Normandie. Please choose a new destination."

Julian braced himself against the wall of the turbolift, and slunk down to his knees, wincing.

"Listen to me very carefully. I am Lieutenant Julian Michel Durand, commanding officer of that quaint little boat currently in your Hangar Bay. I have been ordered to report to the Bridge to meet with the Captain. So either you send me to the god damned bridge now or you can explain why there is an unconscious Lieutenant taking up space in the ship's most critical turbolift. It's your call, ship."

The turbolift quickly whirred into action, propelling Julian upwards. He grabbed onto the communications console in the lift car, and forcefully willed himself to stand.

As the lift came to a halt, the doors hissed open, and he stepped out onto the comparatively cavernous bridge of the Normandie.

"Lieutenant Durand, reporting as ordered," he said.

Virkov stood from center seat, and upon seeing the state the young officer was in, her eyes went wide with shock.

"SARAH, beam the Lieutenant and I directly from the Bridge to Sickbay, and have whoever is on staff clear the patients from the ICU ward."

"There are no patients present in the ICU ward currently. No such action will be..."

"Fine, thank you SARAH. Now beam us down there immediately."

As the white blue glow subsided, Virkov watched the nurses on staff help the young man to lie down in a bio-bed, and move an arc over him.

"Diagnosis, four broken ribs, fractured tibia, punctured lung, detached retina. Nothing too critical, it looks like whoever patched him up did a good job of stabilizing him," the lead nurse said, as she began to work her fingers over the console to repair the damage on a cellular level.

Virkov stood directly next to him, on the opposite side of the nurses, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sure you have a very interesting story to tell me once you're back on your feet Mister Durand, but healing is your only order for the time being. I'm going to tell you some information, and for the time being I just want you to listen process it. We'll have time to discuss it all later."

Julian nodded his head slightly.

"Good. You're currently in Sector 1757, the unclaimed territory between the Cardassians, Breen, and Ferengi. Your boat traveled about 10,000 light years from your last known location. We're not sure how, but right now time is of the essence. There's a Ferengi Marauder out there demanding salvage rights to the Wanderer, and to effectively persuade them that they hold no rights, we're going to either have to outgun or outrun them. We will likely go with the latter.

"We took some very detailed scans of the Wanderer before we tractored her in, and the prognosis isn't good. There's no way we can get her up and operational again without taking her to a drydock, which we simply don't have the time or manpower to do. As of now, your crew is being re-assigned to the Normandie by order of Rear Admiral Holden, Commanding Officer of Task Force 92. You will be given time to adjust, and the opportunity to seek another deployment should you desire."

Julian clenched his jaw in frustration, but simply nodded his understanding.

"Several of your people qualify for senior staff positions that by stroke of luck are vacant aboard the Normandie, yourself included. I know it's a far cry from having your own command, but it will have to do for the time being, Lieutenant. I've taken the opportunity to review your service and personal records. There is a bit of good news in all of this. We have aboard the Normandie a young civilian linguist that we picked up from Earth with whom you might be acquainted. His name is..."

"Luc?" Julian interrupted softly.

Smiling, Virkov said "Mister Lucas Chopin, yes. He's been harassing the hell out of most of my crew to get in here to see you, so as soon as we're done, I'll send him in. I'm going to hold a meeting with my current senior staff in an hour, and the crew of the Wanderer will need to be present too, to discuss options. I will have the ship's AI holographically represent you there, since your orders are not to leave sickbay until Nurse Olthwaite clears you for active duty."

"Sir...ma'am," Julian began.

"Sir is fine for me, Lieutenant, but my XO prefers to be called ma'am. Don't worry. I've been doing this a very long time, the whole commanding officer thing. I'll make this change right by your crew. You just focus on getting better. After all, I need a good security chief, and I'm told you're one of the best. I'll come to see you after the meeting. Proceed, Miss Olthwaite."

Nodding, the nurse fitted two neural blockers onto Julian's forehead before his vision blurred and darkness overtook him.

ON:

[Main Bridge, USS Normandie]
[July 20, 2386: 1948 Hours]

She swivelled around in her chair, her back facing the central chairs. With her left elbow resting on the corner of the main wall console, she focused her eyes on the sensors readings filling the screen.

A geometric field distortion analysis was occupying most of the display, the stylized silhouette of the USS Wanderer in the middle of a series of intricate and convolute lines all around. Elena reached with her right hand for the controls and rotated the fields around, slowly analysing every shape with her eyes.

A set of two small ripples in the geometry of the particle field caught her eyes, and she commanded the computer to zoom on the two sections of the graph, just around the Bussard collectors.

There was definitely something interesting going on there, probably due to the inherent nature of the collectors themselves. A very peculiar set of concentrated particles was being diverted in those places, and her guts were telling her it was relevant to start explaining what had happened to the Wallace-class ship.

A quick refinement of the spectrum of analysis, gave her a very sensible and important clue. Those areas were filled with an unusual concentration of chronitons and heavily excited neutrinos.

The decaying rate was pretty fast, but probably due to the presence of the two Bussard collectors, those zones were somewhat retaining traces of what must have been a massive field engulfing all the ship. Lieutenant Fedorov tapped a sequence of commands on her console, before turning her chair around to face her main station once again.

After a very rough estimation of the original total field energy and a quick session of unrefined coding later, Elena had a basic simulation of the effect the Wanderer had been subject to. She still had no idea how what she was looking for could even be generated in the first place, but whatever that was, it was her best guess so far.

With the simulation progressing in front of her eyes on the display, she witnessed the USS Wanderer being surrounded by a very energetic field of some kind, and literally being cut free from the constraints of space and sub-space. It was like someone had separated the ship from the very fabric of space and time, and just nudged it in the desired direction. The amount of energy and precision required amazed her.

"Боже мои!" She couldn't help but exclaim.

Whatever had brought that ship here, had at its disposal a level of power and knowledge vastly superior to anything she had ever witness.

As the simulation finished, Elena slumped in her chair heavily, attracting some inquisitive glances from the rest of the Normandie's bridge officers on duty. A wide grin appeared on her face, as she thought about getting her hands dirty with the computer logs, or whatever was left of them, of the Wanderer. First though, she realized, she would have had to explain all of that at the Senior staff briefing due in less than 40 minutes.

Her grin faded...

:OFF

OOC: stay back! I'm doing science - ("Боже мои" translates as "Oh my God").

[Conference Lounge, USS Normandie]
[July 20, 2386: 2030 Hours]

Virkov sat in contemplative silence, the roster of the Wanderer splayed out on the computer console before her. It was clear that they were a capable crew, and how some of them hadn't been promoted further on the command track, enlisted or officer, was beyond her. She fully intended to rectify that mistake now.

There was a slight sense of foreboding at seeing Lieutenants Retol and Ashshy again, but a quick, deep breath helped that emotion wash over her. She knew that some of the crew would be in a terrible state, and had brought a portable sonic refresher and replicator to the hangar bay so that they could clean themselves up and process new uniforms.

"Bridge to Captain Virkov."

"Go ahead," she said, looking up out of habit.

"Daimon Garr is demanding..."

"Tell Daimon Garr that Rear Admiral Holden of the USS Endeavour instructs him to pound sand. Resume previous course before we deviated to intercept the Wanderer, warp six, and engage when laid in. And cadet... tell the Daimon what I said verbatim."

Through a soft chuckle, she heard the cadet reply "Yes sir, Bridge out."

The vibration in the floor plating caught her just outside the Conference Lounge door. Elena stopped for a second, to feel it. It was cruising speed, a sign that they were finally en-route again toward The Expanse and probably a clear clue as to the fact that the Ferengi were going to be very disappointed.

She checked her uniform pocket for the isolinear memory chip containing her simulation, and stepped forward, entering the room.

Captain Virkov was sitting at the head of the long table, reading from a PADD.

"Captain," she saluted, reaching for the same chair she had occupied during the first ever briefing aboard to sit down.

Virkov looked up from her PADD briefly, and nodded at the young woman as she sat.

T'Lani walked into the room, she allowed her eyes to acclimates to the lower lighting level. The Human scientist sat at the table, she didn't acknowledge her and walked towards her Commanding Officer, she tucked her beret into her pocket as tradition the corridors of a starship are considered outside so her beret must be worn, while offices and other departmental rooms were considered inside and she had to be beret-less.

She placed a PADD in front of her CO, "There are my recommendations for the integration of the Wanderer crew into the rank and file of Normandie" she said as she then moved to take her now traditional seat to the right of the younger Russian. She made momentary eye-contact with the young science officer, her eyes flashing slightly.

Virkov reviewed the PADD, and smirked slightly. The woman's recommendations were on par with her own, with only one or two minor changes that would inevitably prove more useful.

Ayan was pleased to be in a fresh uniform, although no matter how many times the medic had told him they had fixed his broken nose, it still didn't seem right. Something still felt wrong, and he rubbed it gently as he walked off the turbolift. He still didn't believe that it looked right.

"From gargoyles and now back to Virkov," he murmured to himself right before stepping up to the door. "Prophets."

Being back with Virkov was going to be a strange experience. Here was the captain whose actions had cost him his flight track, and had shunted him to the middle of nowhere to begin with, and yet he still felt a level of dedication to her, and to his old crews from the White Star and the Wanderer. They had been good ships, no matter what the admiralty thought.

The door opened, and he walked in and crisply stood to attention after he walked through the door.

"Lieutenant Junior Grade Retol Ayan, reporting as ordered, sir," he said, looking at Virkov, a slight but uncertain smile on his face.

Virkov smiled softly in return, and said "Good to see you again Lieutenant. Sit, please. We'll begin when everyone is assembled. SARAH, activate the display for Doctor Holmes and Lieutenant Durand."

The large monitor behind Virkov lit up instantly, displaying the two seated on the same bio-bed in Sickbay. Virkov nodded, and waited patiently for the rest to arrive.

Lieutenant Eiri was next through the door, a stiff smile on his face. The tiny, white haired Vulcanizoid snapped to attention once inside the room, but could not seem to stop smiling, as awkward as it was. "I am very honored to be serving with you again, Sir." he said to Virkov.

He would never deny that Julian was an excellent captain, but there was something about coming back to work under the command of his first starship. It was almost like coming home. In the back of his mind he hoped for larger quarters. The Normandie seemed to be most impressive.

Rha was not far behind the short, Vulcan half breed. The tall Caitian towering over most of the people in the room. His tail twitches nervously back and forth as he came to attention in front of the new captain. He had managed to clean most of the blacked soot off of his fur, but it would be awhile before his coat fully recovered.

The Caitian wasn't exactly sure why he had been summoned to a senior staff meeting, but summoned he was. "Petty Officer 3rd Class Rha, reporting for duty, M.. Sir." He followed Eiri's example.

Meanwhile, Hayley was making her way from the Normandie's sickbay to the conference lounge; she had seemed emotionally shaken--to say the least--when she had been asked to leave the Wanderer, and the security officer present had recommended none too sympathetically that she have medical check her for possible brain damage.

Having taken a wrong turn, Hayley sighed and muttered, "Lord, it's like a daggone maze in here. This behemoth is just too much dang ship." She set the briefcase-shaped LCARS data module from the Wanderer on the ground and tapped out a query on the wall panel. Momentarily, lighted displays in the walls indicated the way to the bridge. Hayley picked the module back up and followed them.

She had been walking for a few minutes when a figure turned a corner in front of her, striding purposefully in the same direction that she was headed. How in the... Could that be...? she thought. She went down the list: tall, bald, pointy ears, yellow uniform...

"PETH?!"

Startled, the figure jumped, whirled and assumed a defensive posture. His eyes widened slightly with recognition. Of course! he thought. U.S.S. Wanderer, Wallace Class... it was assigned to Kepler Station! He relaxed his stance just in time to catch Hayley's leaping hug full-on in the chest. She squeezed him tightly, and he returned her embrace more gently, with just the barest hint of a smile.

Grinning like a hyena, Hayley held onto the Vulcan's shoulders, regarding him at arm's length. "Y'haven't changed a bit, Peth! What in the stars are you doin' here?"

Sepeth straightened his uniform, his face returning to its usual flat expression. "It's good to see you, Hayley. I knew that there was something familiar about your vessel, but I hadn't deduced the reason until now. Are you all right? You seem exceptionally emotional at the moment." He paused for a beat. "Even for you."

Hayley shook her head slowly, her smile now looking a bit forced. "It's a long story."

The Vulcan looked her in the eye and said matter-of-factly, "Unfortunately, there is no time to continue this exchange presently. We are expected in the conference lounge."

Hayley nodded, remembering her orders. "Yeah, you're right," she admitted. She reached down to retrieve the data module and the two walked briskly down the hall toward the bridge.

Just before they arrived at the bridge entry door, the Vulcan turned to his former student, an eyebrow raised expectantly. "Now Hayley, I trust that you will remember to exercise proper decorum while we are on duty. Your favored nickname for me will be inappropriate while in the presence of command officers. You will, of course, address me as 'Lieutenant.'"

Hayley placed her hand on Sepeth's shoulder and patted it softly. "Whatever you say, Lieutenant Peth." She beamed up at him. "This ain't my first time at the rodeo, y'know."

The Vulcan rubbed his scalp, unsure how to deal with the friendly insubordinations of the perky human. Finally he settled on, "You haven't changed either, my friend."

The pair stepped into the conference lounge, greeted those assembled, and found their seats; the Vulcan Lieutenant with the other officers of the Normandie, and Hayley on the other side of the conference table with the Wanderer crew.

Adam's turbolift pinged softly and opened, revealing a Starfleet regulation grey/blue hallway studded with doors. He grinned and stepped out. This hallway had to be longer than the Wanderer. Glancing from side to side, he chuckled. Probably wider, too. He'd liked the little runabout/starship that could - hell, he'd even sat in the middle chair during nights on her last voyage - but it was good to be back on a ship with room in which one could swing a cat.

Absently, he wondered if Rha had managed to get his fur clean yet.

He'd gratefully made use of the facilities on the Normandie's hanger deck, and as he arrived at the conference room, it was a clean, fresh Adam Carter in a newly-replicated command red uniform that pressed the activation plate. He'd always preferred the red to Starfleet Intelligence gray - in it he felt less conspicuous.

Stepping inside, he smiled at his already-seated crewmates and ran his gaze up the table, crossing an intimidating-looking Romulan marine before he reached the captain. She was an older woman with hard features. Despite himself, Adam felt a touch cowed. The Romulan beside her was intimidating in a straightforward kind of way - cross me and you will die, the flashing red eyes promised. In contrast, the captain's eyes were hard and uncompromising, but also told of a deep intelligence and - maybe? - incredible sadness. It was a challenging look, he decided. This was a woman who expected the best from her crew, and from herself, and who would meet disappointing results with her own special brand of wrath.

Recovering with aplomb from a lapse so momentary as to leave an observer wondering if they had imagined it, he straightened and clicked his heels together.

"Crewman Adam Carter, ma'am, reporting for duty." Maintaining his sunny expression, Adam took a seat next to Hayley on the Wanderer side of the table, his eyes running a second sweep across the Normandie contingent as he did so.

Behind him entered West, who nodded to the captain curtly. "Reporting as ordered, sir."

Without further comment, he took a seat on the Normandie side of the bench, glancing briefly at the refugees from the Wanderer.

Almost as soon as the doors had slid shut, they opened again and Shras stepped smartly into the room. He was not a senior officer, but he was the only security officer on the ship at the moment, which he thought qualified him to attend the meeting.

"Sir," Shras nodded to the captain, snapping to attention. He tipped his head forward, his antenna quivering as he looked around the room. The crew from the Wanderer looked worse for the wear, but he was pleased to see familiar faces among them. He tipped his head forward, his antenna quivering as he looked around the room. The crew from the Wanderer looked worse for the wear, but he was pleased to see familiar faces among them.

With a stiff smile he took a relaxed stance close to the doors, not presuming that he was to sit, since he was not a senior staff member.

T'Lani looked at the Andorian "Please take a seat Lieutenant" she said in a controlled tone and returned her attention to the Captain. "Are we expecting anyone else?"

As the last of the Wanderer's crew filed in, Virkov nodded, and said "No, I believe we can begin. I'm going to stand, as I think better on my feet, the rest of you may feel free to remain seated. In fact, I would prefer that you do, you've all been through a very harrowing experience."

She stood, took a deep breath, and smiled politely.

"You should know that you are a long way from where you were, and that we have no way of getting you back that won't take the better part of two years. That type of time is unfortunately something we don't have. Also on the list of bad news is your ship herself. She is not salvageable, and is being parted out for scrap save for her LCARS, which I presume is the small case your Engineering Specialist is currently carrying.

"I will not dwell upon what this means, other than to inform you that you are all formally being reassigned to serve aboard the Normandie for the foreseeable future. I have spoken at length to Doctor Holmes and Lieutenant Durand about this. They tell me you are an exemplary crew, and as such I expect that you will perform admirably. Please know that my crew and I are here to assist you with this change of routine in anyway that we can, and for the first month of your new routine, you will not be penalized for any minor breaches of protocol."

Virkov returned to the table, and picked up her PADD.

"I have here, a list of your new positions and new grades where applicable. Please bear with me as I go through the list."

"Starting from the top. Lieutenant Ashshy, you have shown remarkable leadership capabilities in your time both on the White Star and the Wanderer. As such, in addition to becoming the Normandie's chief counselor, you will be the Second Officer and a member of the command staff. You will report directly to Doctor Holmes, with dotted line responsibility to myself and Colonel T'Lani.

"Petty Officer Rr'Vel'Ran, reading over your personnel record, you show much of the same qualities, and as such you will be promoted immediately to Chief Petty Officer, and assigned as the Normandie's Chief of the Boat. You will be liaising between the Enlisted and Officers aboard the Normandie. You will report directly to Colonel T'Lani.

"Ensign Lycan, as the Normandie has no formal Chief of Flight Operations, you will be assuming that role for the alpha shift. You will be reporting directly to Colonel T'Lani.

"Crewman Smyth, while your service record remains short and relatively mundane, the things you have accomplished aboard the Wanderer lead me to believe you would make a fine Master at Arms, which comes with a promotion to Petty Officer First Class. You'll be reporting directly to Lieutenant Durand."

Looking up, she smiled down the table at the Bajoran. "Lieutenant Retol, in light of the fact that Starfleet Command has seen fit to switch your career path to Operations, you will assume the post of Chief Operations Officer aboard the Normandie, which comes with a promotion to full lieutenant. As you will be a member of the Senior Staff, you'll be reporting directly to Colonel T'Lani and myself.

"Miss Griffith, as your specialty is small craft, and you have shown remarkable care and consideration in caring for your own small craft, you are being assigned as the Normandie's Chief of the Shuttlebay and Hangar Deck. This will come with a promotion to Chief Petty Officer, and will also mean that I will count on you to take personal care of the Captain's Yacht, an Arrow Class Runabout by the name of Volga. The Normandie has 13 embarked craft aboard, Miss Griffith, you'll have your work cut out for you. You'll be reporting directly to Lieutenant Sepeth.

"Crewman Carter...we will discuss your situation in my ready room once the meeting is adjourned," she said with a very serious look on her face.

She returned to the table, and sat down, placing her hands humbly in her lap.

"Welcome aboard the Normandie, ladies and gentlemen. As you may have guessed, Lieutenant Durand will be reassigned as the Chief of Tactical and Security aboard the Normandie, and Doctor Holmes will fill in as temporary Chief Medical Officer until she receives her own command, which is presently in the works. Are there any questions or concerns?"

-OFF- Please check the JP forum, there is a part 2.

[Conference Lounge, USS Normandie]
[July 20, 2386: 2030 Hours]

Damien sat in the hard-backed chair looking around at the faces of the people he was to work with day and night. He didn't know any of them at all but was eager to get to know them, somewhat.

"I was curious as to who I will be reporting to." Damien spoke softly, hoping to not be overlooked by someone who was speaking louder than himself.

He was uncertain as to who it was that he would be reporting to or if his new home, the USS Normandie, even had someone for him to report to on board.

He nervously played with some strands of his dark hair, twisting the hair between his thumb and index finger. A cup of water sat just a few inches away from his left hand and Damien thought about the water.

Was it replicated? Damien thought to himself. He wondered if it tasted like the natural spring water he used to drink at his foster parents' home on Earth but was brought out of his own thoughts by the overwhelming emotions of those around him. He could sense excitement and nervousness and that made him all the more nervous himself.

Damien tried to focus on something else until his question was answered. He had hoped that he could get through the day and get some work started very soon.

[Conference Lounge, USS Normandie]
[July 20, 2386: 2105 Hours]

T'Lani had kept her personal feelings from appearing on the surface, she greatly disagreed with the Captain on the selection of the Second Officer, but it would not be prudent to discuss such disagreements in the presence of the junior staff. She simply kept her expression neutral, it was then she turned her attention to the NCO who spoke.

Hayley felt a lump grow in her throat as her new Captain explained the fate of the Wanderer. She swallowed it down awkwardly and tried to keep her wits about her.

As the Captain told her of her new post as Shuttlebay Deck Chief she smiled broadly and nodded in acknowledgment. Here was a position that she could really get into. Just the thought of being personally responsible for all thirteen small craft onboard was exhilarating, and she very nearly missed the fact that she'd been promoted. "Thank you very much, Sir, I won't let you down," she said. When told that she'd be reporting to Sepeth, her old engineering instructor, she grinned and nodded at him from across the table. He replied with a slow bow of his head.

Eiri's eyes widened slightly at the news and he blinked slowly in surprise, not really even hearing, whom he assumed was the first officer. There was enough tension in the room already that he really was not getting a clear read on people's moods. He knew that, he himself, was weary to the bone, and that he was now second officer of this gigantic ship.

The Vulcanizoid searched his mind for something he had done on the last few missions that had been exemplary, but he did not ask questions. Instead he steeled himself for a long shift.

When Captain Virkov asked if there were any questions, Hayley raised her hand somewhat sheepishly. "Captain? You mentioned that the Wanderer is gonna be scrapped." She seemed unsettled by the thought. "We aren't gonna let those scheming big-eared Ferengi tear her apart, are we? If you don't mind me sayin', Sir, I reckon she deserves a more respectful send-off." She glanced over at Sepeth, who seemed to blanch a bit paler, although his expression remained stolid.

T'Lani looked at the Captain and they shared a look before she nodded, giving T'Lani permission to speak. "Chief Petty Officer, while I understand the preoccupation of naval personnel of imbuing their anthropomorphic characteristics," she paused as if choosing her words, although she was fully aware of what she wanted to say and how she would say it, "Wanderer is an unusable ship, the hours of repair far out-weight the benefit of having the ship functional once again, it is taking up room in our Hangar deck which limits our combat readiness should we engage a hostile target. As such the Captain and I have decided that she will be broken down and her parts taken for spares to augment the supplies of Normandie. Does that answer your question Chief Petty Officer?"

Hayley's jaw muscles tightened at T'Lani's response, and she tried to click into professional mode. She sat up a little straighter and brushed a loose lock of red hair behind her ear, but a slight choking sound escaped from her throat as she replied, "I see. Of course, Colonel. Long as she's..." Hayley paused. "...As long as the ship is in our hands for dismantlin', you won't hear any argument from me." She forced a weak smile and then looked down at the table, running her fingers slowly along its edge, deep in thought.

Elena focused her gaze on Chief Petty Officer Griffith, more to gauge her reaction than anything else. The impact with the Colonel and the reactions to it were, weirdly, of some interest to her.

"Captain, if I may," she then added, "I would like to be kept informed on the schedule for the disassembly of the Wanderer. There is still much that's unclear about what happened, and I would like to perform some tests on the hull in its integrity before work starts."

Virkov nodded, and said "I'll make sure you and your team get a chance to do in depth scans of the entire ship before we begin the work, Lieutenant. Maybe we'll find a way to link the tale that Doctor Holmes told us with the scans."

Eiri finally came around to himself again and looked at Elena, then turned his gaze back to the captain. "I would like to assist her with the Wanderer, if my duties permit, Sir."

The large Caitian blinked in surprise at his new posting, but in contrast to Eiri's expressionless face, Rha began to grin, his teeth showing. He sat up straight in his chair, feeling a rush of pride. He wished his parents could have been present for the moment, but there was time enough to tell them later. For having come from a training facility to Chief of the Boat on this vessel, seemed a huge climb up the ladder to Rha.

Following the example of the other people in the room the Caitian looked directly at the Captain. "Thank you, Sir. I will not let you down." He tried to be serious, but found he could not wipe off the grin.

In contrast to his grinning crewmates, Adam returned the captain's serious look with an equally grave nod. He tried not to speculate too deeply about what she wanted of him in private - he didn't know her nearly well enough to guess, and it would only cause him undue stress. He'd know when the time came. Instead, he schooled his expression back to his usual laid-back affability and joined in the happiness of his shipmates, especially those who'd been promoted.

For his part, West appraised Hayley silently. She obviously cared deeply about the Wanderer, which was good in a mechanic. With a bit of luck, she'd be equally as fond of Juno Squadron's Gryphons. A talented ground crew was important to a combat squadron, and Mike was determined that Juno Squadron would be well catered for in every possible department. The combat alert today had driven home the squad's shortcomings, and now his job would be to ensure that the next time the Normandie faced combat, her starfighter group was active.

Corbet reached silently under the table and gave Hayley's hand a squeeze. She had worked with the quirky mechanic enough to know that to her, this was like being told that her boyfriend had terminal cancer, and was dying. More than that, he was dying tomorrow, and they were going to harvest his organs the same day.
Hoping to change the subject, Corbet spoke up to the captain.
"Sir? If I may, What is the operational objectives of the Normandie a opposed to the Wanderer? The Wanderer was a milk-runner that ended up doing every bizarre mission they could think of, just wondering what to expect on this new boat. Sir."

"The Normandie is an academy adjunct ship, Miss Smyth. In addition to the basic exploration, diplomatic, and peacekeeping duties, we take on and train new recruits and cadets so that they can learn how to perform their job by actually performing it."

She turned to Eiri, and said "As much as I would like to give you the opportunity to research the Wanderer and what occurred to her with the science team, I'm afraid you'll be required elsewhere, Lieutenant. The Normandie left dock without a counselor, and most of the crew haven't undergone the proper psych evaluations. I'll need you to get started on that straight away, and you'll need to appoint yourself an assistant from within the ranks, either cadet or actual officer aboard."

T'Lani looked at the Captain and her eyes flashed, the Captain nodded, "Departmental Status reports on my desk by 0700 tomorrow morning." she remained silent for a moment or two letting her command hang in the air, "Dismissed!"

a JP by the Senior Staff :p

[Marine Land, USS Normandie]
[July 20, 2386: 2200 Hours]

"I don't care if you're in pain, 521...522...!" bellowed the commanding tone of of Sergeant Ari Asani as he stood over the wiry frame of Yuan Taotu as he moved to his knees to begin the next round of press-ups. The Sergeant used her heel to push the private down again when he did not complete a full cycle.

T'Lani walked around the corner and heard the familiar cry coming out from the Sergeant, "Officer on deck! ATTENTION!"

The squad quickly fell into line and came to attention followed by a neat salute. T'Lani walked towards them, her swagger stick under her right arm, her right hand holding the green crystal tip. She returned the salute of the Sergeant as she was the most senior there.

She surveyed the Marines, there were all flawlessly turned out, the only one who was not perfect was Private Yuan Taotu a small glisten of sweat on his forehead. It was almost unnoticeable were it not for T'Lani's superior sense of smell and eye-sight. She decided to ignore it for the time being.

"Sergeant Asani...I must say I am a tad disappointed..."

The Sergeant looked shocked for the slightest of moments before controlling her expression and returning it to the neutral expression expected of a marine.

"Ma'am?"

T'Lani swung her swagger stick around and used it to point at the Vulcan Private standing next to Taotu, "Private Senak appears to have lost 3% of his muscle since joining this ship" she stared at the Sergeant, "I was under the impression that keeping my marines in perfect physical health, to ensure that they are always ready to defend the Federation without notice...was I mistaken Sergeant?"

"No Ma'am!" she replied, "I was unaware that Private Senak had lost any muscle tone, I will ensure that this is rectified immediately, ma'am!"

T'Lani nodded, 'I sorely hope so Sergeant, I have selected Alpha Charlie Squad to go up against this ships Security Department in a training session...I do not want to loose face in front of the navals" she stepped back, "At-ease" she said as a side-bar, "You are going to be on double training duty until the first combat session with Security. I assume you are capable of training a Squad within your section Sergeant?"

"Yes Ma'am, I will make sure Alpha Charlie slaughter the navals!"

"Good. I am also assigning Alpha Charlie to sentry duty on the bridge."

The under-current of a smile ran through the squad, it was a great honour to act as the Sentry on the bridge, it was their job to act sentry at the turbolift on the bridge whenever the Commanding Officer or Executive Officer had the bridge. Up until now T'Lani had not assigned this duty to anyone, she had not thought any of them ready. But now with someone else heading up security she wanted to make sure that they didn't forget they had Special Forces trained personnel on the ship. She was going to make a point.

"Thank you Ma'am"

"Don't disappoint me Sergeant." she said in a cold tone, "Williams and Ebersbacher with me" she then looked at the Sergeant and nodded.

The Sergeant nodded and then roared, "SQUAAD. DIS-MISSED!"

As the other marines filed out, T'Lani watched them in a pleased silence. She would never admit it publicly, but the Marines she had on the Normandie were some of the best she had ever commanded. The two Privates came towards her and she turned and walked out towards the turbolift, the swagger stick took it's familiar place under her right armpit.

In the turbolift there was an air of silence that was finally broken by T'Lani, "You understand your role as Sentries?"

"Ma'am!" they said in unison.

"Well for my own peace of mind let me clarify. You are to each stand at one of the turbolifts at attention. You are not to make eye-contact with anyone, nor respond in any way shape of form to anyone other than myself or the Commanding Officer of this vessel. You are there for our use, and will be asked to carry out various duties dependent on our needs." she paused, "If anyone else tries to speak to you you are to ignore them and remain at attention. It is your job to announce the Captain or myself on and off the bridge. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am"

The turbolift came to a halt, and T'Lani stepped out and removed her beret, tucking it in her belt, the two marines went to do the same, "Keep covered." she said, she pointed Williams towards the other turbolift to take his place. T'Lani walked towards the Command plinth. She saw the Captain look at the Marines in a quizzical manner. T'Lani took her seat, "Ma'am?"

OOC- tag

[Conference Lounge, U.S.S. Normandie]
[2200 Hours]

Hayley squeezed Corbet's hand in return, but kept her eyes fixed on the conference table. Even so, it did make her feel a little better.

The meeting had been dismissed, so Hayley and several of the officers stood up and started heading out to the bridge. She motioned to Sepeth, and he stepped over to meet her at the side of the room. "It's gettin' late, and it sounds like you got a lotta work aheada ya," she said. "Might even hafta pull one of your all-nighters. If'n y'need a hand, jus' lemme know, okay? I'll pitch in wherever you can use me."

The Vulcan shook his head solemnly. "I know that you're eager to get back to work, Hayley, but you should try and get some rest. You've experienced a great deal of stress today, and your job performance will suffer if that stress is not balanced with some relaxation." Sepeth rested his hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry about me, I didn't sleep last night either," he said, lowering his voice before adding, "My responsibilities have been irrationally and unnecessarily compounded of late." Reverting to a normal volume, he concluded, "though as you know, Vulcans require sleep much less frequently than humans."

Hayley took hold of Sepeth's hand on her shoulder, closed her eyes and sighed, exhausted. "I feel like a cow chip that somebody skipped across a dry creekbed. Yer right, I should get some sleep." She opened her eyes at a second thought. "Or a drink."

The Vulcan nodded. "I understand. There is a recreation station on Deck Five called The Starlight Lounge. Please exercise moderation tonight, Hayley; your responsibilities tomorrow will not be those of yesterday."

"I'll take it easy, don't worry none. I got somethin' to take care of first though," she said. "Thanks, Lieutentant. I'll seeya tomorrow." She gathered up the Wanderer's data module, and walked out to the turbolift.

Sepeth headed toward the bridge; he had some system diagnostics to analyze and a report to file.

[Deck 10, U.S.S. Normandie]
[2210 Hours]

Hayley exited the turbolift onto Deck 10 and walked down the hallway to the section that housed the main computer cores. She had seen computer core indicators near Sickbay on Deck 8, but that deck had been full of people, and she felt the need for a little privacy at the moment. She surreptitiously slipped into a secluded alcove.

Her lip involuntarily twitched, and she began nervously chewing at the inside of her cheek. She held tightly to the briefcase-shaped data module, clutching it to her chest with both arms. Hayley had not been looking forward to this moment, and yet she had. In any case, it was now or never.

"Sarah? Can I talk to you for a minute?"

A blonde woman who was just a hair taller than Hayley materialized before her eyes. "How may I be of service, Chief Petty Officer Griffith?" she asked. Hayley didn't speak immediately, as she was forming a picture in her mind; she wanted to remember this meeting in detail. Hearing no response, SARAH cocked her head slightly and said, "Is this a bad time? I can return at your convenience."

Hayley quickly extended a staying hand to the hologram's arm. "No, no! I was jus'... processin' some things. And please call me Hayley." She presented her hand, and the woman shook it. "I been really lookin' forward to meetin' you, Sarah. I read that next month's Starship Engineerin' Quarterly is gonna have a feature article 'bout you, but that's probably gonna be all nuts an' bolts. I hafta say, I'm honored to get the chance to serve with you here in person."

SARAH smiled, but Hayley couldn't tell whether her expression was genuine or the result of some conversation matrix algorithm. "Thank you, Hayley. How may I be of service?" she asked again.

Hesitating slightly, Hayley loosened her grip on the data module. "I have a present for you, Sarah." She extended the briefcase to the blonde woman, who took it from her. "This is Wendy. She's a very close friend of mine, so I hope that you'll take good care of her."

SARAH examined the data module. "This is an LCARS database from a Wallace-class starship, designation U.S.S. Wanderer." She looked back up at Hayley. "I do not understand what you are asking me to do, can you please clarify?"

Hayley sighed and took the hologram by the shoulder. "I know it's a database, Sarah, but it's a very important one. Inside it is information that I need you to incorporate into the Normandie's LCARS--essentially, into yourself." She paused, wistfully. "This database represents everything that will be left of the Wanderer--of Wendy--once they're done rippin' her to shreds. Her mind and heart and soul. It's very precious to me, so I know I can trust you to keep watch over my friend here."

SARAH still didn't seem to get it. "Hayley, I do not understand how this can be your friend, this is a computer database."

"So are you, Sarah. But jus' because you're a computer, that don't mean we can't be friends. An' maybe sometimes when I'm talkin' to you, I'll hear a lil' bit of Wendy peepin' through." Hayley's vision started to cloud slightly, so she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

The hologram regarded Hayley and stayed silent for a moment, perhaps accessing information about sudden changes in human emotional responses. Finally she said, quietly, "No one has ever given me a present before. Of course I will take care of Wendy for you, Hayley."

Without a word, the red-headed engineer threw her arms around the hologram and hugged her tightly. SARAH remained still, passively receiving the embrace. After a few moments, Hayley leaned in to her ear and whispered, "Thank you, Sarah. If you ever need anything, even if you jus' need someone to talk to, you let me know." She stepped back and looked at the blonde woman through misty eyes, with a quavering smile playing about on her lips.

"Will that be all?" SARAH asked, abruptly. Hayley nodded and the hologram turned to take the data module to the main computer core.

"Hey, Sarah?"

She turned around. "Yes, Hayley?"

"Has anybody ever told you that you're beautiful?"

The woman thought for a moment. "Yes, several male recruits have made statements of a related nature," she said, then paused momentarily before adding, "but none of them have done so with tears in their eyes." She turned again and headed down the hall.

Hayley coughed out a small laugh, and watched as SARAH reached the computer core and interfaced it with the LCARS module, initiating the upload.

Now... she thought, now it's time for a drink.

"Bridge," said Adam Carter on stepping into the turbolift. Perhaps cowed by its earlier run-in with Julian, the lift complied silently, whisking the young intelligence officer up to the command deck.

Absently, he fussed with the sleeve of his uniform - a nervous habit he would only permit of himself when in private and out of character. As the motion of the lift slowed, he forced himself to stop, squared his shoulders and strode confidently into his new Captain's domain.

"Captain Virkov," he greeted her cordially. "You wanted to see me?"

"Ah yes, come in please Mister Carter," she said, and gestured towards the seat directly in front of the desk in her ready room.

She slid a PADD across the desk. Adam's service record was splayed across it, with a large chunk of it missing.

"I know that you cannot tell me the majority of what went on in those empty spaces. As a line officer in Starfleet, I'm firmly aware that some things are greater than myself. However, none of that is of drastic importance right at the moment. What I do know is that you come highly recommended by SFI, and I intend to put those skills to good use. I also know that your 'failing' the Academy was a ploy to get you to where you needed to be."

Adam raised an eyebrow but said nothing, allowing the captain to continue. Virkov was the first Starfleet officer he'd met with any inkling about his past. It spoke of well established connections and intelligence, two things he respected.

Virkov smirked, and said "So effective today you are an official graduate of the Starfleet Academy, promoted to the grade of Ensign, and posted as the Chief Intelligence Officer. Do you have any questions, young man?"

"Just one," he said, a slow smile almost stealing across his face before he banished it. This was important. "You know who I've been working for; you must know roughly what I was doing before I enlisted. I can do the job you're giving me, but only if I have your absolute trust. Do I?"

Virkov pondered the question for a moment, and stood up from her chair, gazing out of the window.

"I am going to tell you something, Mister Carter. This is something meant for you to take to heart. You may choose to do whatever you like with the knowledge, but know that once I tell you, we will be the only two people in Starfleet to know about it."

She turned, and said "It is common knowledge that the first ship I commanded with the name Normandie was the victim of sabotage by a Maquis sleeper agent. This agent also happened to be my Chief Enigneer. As we were evacuating the ship, I went over the data and discovered that he had triggered the core to breach, costing me my home of 11 years, and causing the death of 10 officers and crew. As I boarded the last of the shuttles to leave, I turned my phaser on him and shot him in the hangar bay. Granted, it was set on stun, but he was incapacitated and the ship went down with him on it.

"I know to whom you report, and I know what your job will entail, Mister Carter. I will give you this warning once and only once. If by direct order or dereliction of duty, you cause any harm to my ship, my crew, or the civilians who serve on her, you will share Engineer Olson's fate. I am too old to play the spy game, and I have no desire to be the whipping boy of Starfleet Intelligence. Do I make myself clear?"

Carter nodded gravely, the implications of Virkov's story sinking in. That would explain the air of sadness, then. It wouldn't be enough to just blindly offer assurances of loyalty, though. Her Chief Engineer could have done the same thing.

"Very clear, sir," he replied. "Look, I could give you all the assurances in the world and they could be just as hollow as the ones you got from Olson. Trust has to start somewhere though. You've told me something absolutely secret, and I won't betray that. Here," he produced his PADD, tapped a few places on the screen and sent a burst transmission to her own, "is a partial list of some of the things I got up to while I was a still in the game. There's a few annotations here and there, hopefully it'll make interesting reading. Information for information.

"Anyway, my point is that you won't be having any of that cloak and dagger bullshit from me. I've had far too much of that recently anyway." He smiled. "Let's be frank. Starfleet Intelligence will almost certainly stick their noses in at some point while I'm serving on the Normandie. I didn't make it five minutes on the Wanderer before they followed me on board. But my first loyalty, sir, is to you and to this ship. I won't act against you and I certainly won't betray your confidence. I'm a member of your crew, Captain - and the head of my department's a long way away now. If it's within my power, I'll disclose anything I'm ordered to do on the side. Sound fair?"

The simple showing of solidarity being more than enough to assuage her, she slid the PADD to an unused portion of the desk, not bothering to look over the information.

A soft smile played at the edges of her mouth, and she nodded. "Very well then Ensign. The Intelligence department aboard the Normandie is small as it stands now. It will be up to you to grow and strengthen this department as you see fit. I leave it in your able hands. That's all I have for you."

"Thank you for your consideration, sir," replied Adam, returning the smile. He stood and offered the captain a hand. One handshake later, he was gone.

<A joint post by Adam 'Bachelor of Bond' Carter and Elisabit 'I shot a man in Engineering just to watch him die' Virkov>

ON:
[Senior Officers' Quarters, USS Normandie]
[2305 hours, July 20th 2386]

Elena turned down the corridor at fast pace, and almost ended up her day on top of a Tellarite Petty Officer and a pile of PADDs. The young furred crewman looked up at her. "I'm sorry Lieutenant," he mumbled.

"Never mind, Petty Officer, I was walking a lot faster than I should have," she reassured him, while helping with picking up some of the PADDs that had fallen on the floor. "I am somewhat eager to see the end of this day, and wanted to shut myself in my quarters." She explained.

The Tellarite smiled, or at least, she assumed he was. "Good night then, Lieutenant, I'll be on my way to finish this delivery," he said pointing his hairy nose downwards toward the PADD he was carrying.

"Good night to you too, Petty Officer." Elena answered, heading for the door to her quarters.

As the lights turned on, and the door closed behind her, she exhaled in relief, just as all the tension of a long duty day was finally about to slip past her. Before finally getting under the shower, and having a quick bite before bed, there was something else she needed to sort out.

The Wanderer investigation was going to absorb most of her next day, and the thought of having to tackle it all by herself was seeming a bit too daunting. The new assignment to her department, Ensign Valentine, wasn't going to cut it, so outside his field of expertise, and she quite frankly didn't know many of her fellow Science Officers that well aboard yet. Picking up someone wasn't going to be very easy, and without a pair of additional eyes, there was no way this mystery was going to unravel as quickly as needed.

Her eyes were flickering the departmental lists of the Normandie complement. Finally, she found someone who seemed to have the skill needed to offer her a refreshing view on the matter at hand.

"Computer," she asked, "locate Cadet Luna Konev."

[[Cadet Konev is in her quarters.]] The crispy voice of the Normandie's computer answered.

Hopefully, she thought, the Cadet was not going to be already asleep.

"Lieutenant Fedorov to Cadet Konev," she called out after tapping her badge.

<<Konev here, how may I help you Lieutenant?>>

"By clearing up tomorrow's schedule," Elena said going straight to the point. "I think I will need your set of investigative expertises in looking into the Wanderer mystery, I think I will need a couple of eyes for a different perspective on the matter."

<<Understood Ma'am.>> Konev answered. Elena, cut her off before she could continue.

"I will clear your schedule change with Ensign Carter, Cadet, don't worry about it. I'll see you tomorrow at 0600 in the Hangar bay. Fedorov out, and good night."

She closed the comm link. The Orion Cadet was the perfect candidate to help her out to scratch the itch the appearance of the Wanderer was running constantly down her spine. Curiosity was hard to resist, and while walking toward the bathroom, she could barely contain a giggle thinking about the exciting day to come.

:OFF

[Damien's Quarters, USS Normandie]
[2345 hours, July 20th 2386]

Laying in his room, Damien was staring at the ceiling in deep thought. He was eager to get to work and though he didn't know much about the Wanderer, it seemed to be on the minds of lots of his fellow shipmates.

The longer he thought about the mission at hand, the more he worried about his usefulness. Since his area of expertise was languages, he thought that maybe he could offer some other kind of help to his commanding officer, Lt. Fedorov. Damien knew that he was a good problem solver and he was good in a leadership role, but would that be enough to help out?

His future on this ship was something that Damien liked to think about. He had met some of the crew earlier in the day, at the Starlight Lounge, and enjoyed himself so much more than he thought he would, out in the vastness of space. He wanted to stay he here. He wanted to be of help in any way possible.

Damien hadn't changed out of his duty uniform just yet as he thought he'd be up for a bit longer, reading up on the Wanderer or just relaxing in thought.

Damien's foster sister Marianna crossed his mind in an instant. She was a librarian back on Earth, and she was the closest to him out of his entire family. One day, Marianna had told Damien that even though he would study in one area during his time in school, that he'd find his place among a starship. Thing would fall into place for him.

Damien smiled. He threw his negativity to the wind and sat up in his bed.

"Damn. Hopefully I won't wake her..." Damien said aloud.

Tapping his badge, Damien started to speak.

"Ensign Valentine to Lieutenant Fedorov...."

"Yes, Ensign?" Fedorov's voice came back, "What is it?"

"I... I want to go to the Wanderer with your team. I need the experience." Damien said eagerly, awaiting Fedorov's response...

[Bridge, USS Normandie]
[July 21, 2386: 0001 Hours]

The turbolift came to a halt, and T'Lani stepped out and removed her beret, tucking it in her belt, the two marines went to do the same, "Keep covered." she said, she pointed Williams towards the other turbolift to take his place. T'Lani walked towards the Command plinth. She saw the Captain look at the Marines in a quizzical manner. T'Lani took her seat, "Ma'am?"

Virkov arched an eyebrow, and said “I was not aware that we were required to have sentries posted on the Bridge, Colonel. I confess, I’m not familiar with the more...archaic naval traditions, but our security officer may see this as stepping into his territory.”

T’Lani kept her expression neutral, she was rather insulted the Captain had referred to the sentries as archaic, “It was not intended to act as antagonistic towards our security personnel Captain.” she paused for a small moment before continuing, “There has been a long tradition in Starfleet of Marines serving as sentires on the bridge of capital vessels, not only is it a ceremonial role but also allows us to use them as runners if we were to loose communication, without taking an experienced bridge officer from their duty station in an emergency.”

“Fair enough. Admittedly I’m not as up on my Marines standards and practices as I should be. If it’s a matter of tradition, then who are we as mere mortals to argue with it,” Virkov said, smiling. “As a warning, I would expect to see some flack from Lieutenant Durand for this. He’s just lost his ship, I doubt he’s in the mood to make concessions.”

T'Lani remained silent for a few long moments, "Mister Durand is not in a position to question the now standard operating procedure for Normandie Captain" she looked at the older looking woman, "Is it common amongst fleet personnel to question orders or procedures from a superior because they may feel personally slighted, or have suffered some other set back?" she asked, genuinely interested.

“Not in the slightest,” Virkov replied. “And I am sure that once the Lieutenant has fully recuperated he will be coordinating with you on the best schedule for the internal security of the Normandie.”

She turned to T’Lani, and lowered her voice a bit. “Colonel, there is something to be said to have a bit of sympathy and understanding as a command line officer, as I’m sure you’re aware. I may run a tight ship, but I have never been a...stickler I believe the term is...for precise and retentive military protocol. I expect my crew to perform admirably, impress upon them the consequences of failure, and trust that they will make the appropriate decisions. If Marine Sentries are protocol and tradition for the Bridge, then I won’t step on your toes. All I am asking is that you try to put yourself in Lieutenant Durand’s shoes, and see what it would look like from his point of view to come onto the Bridge and see Marines guarding the turbolift, and answering only to the line officers stationed here.”

“Captain, I have sympathy for those who serve under me, but they are Starfleet Officers and as such I hold them to a higher standard than other people. when they wear the uniform their personal lives no longer exist. I cannot put myself in his shoes, as you put it, as I am not him. He is a Lieutenant, I am a Colonel. He is a Naval Officer, I am a Marine Officer. I cannot see any similarities other than we both wear the same uniform.”

Virkov sighed, and said “Then I will leave it to the two of you to discuss and work out a plan that will be mutually beneficial for both departments and the Normandie in general. I have a meeting with the new spook, I’ll be in my ready room. You have the Bridge, Colonel.”

Without a further word, Virkov stood and left the Bridge into her attached ready room

A JP By
Ruskie + Pointie

ON:
[Main Hangar Bay, USS Normandie]
[0550 hours, July 21st 2386]

Lieutenant Fedorov walked into the big Main Hangar of the Normandie with a mug of tea in her left hand, and a big tablet PADD in her right. On it, she was reading the latest sensor analysis that SARAH had presented her just minutes after her wake-up call.

She paused as soon as she stepped over the door threshold, and took a good look at the resting shape of the USS Wanderer, quietly sitting on the supporting scaffolding all around, and engulfed in the orange glow of the anti-grav emitters.

Her eyes, caught a black pair of trousers sticking out from below the looming figure of the ship, one green skinned hand reaching out to try and grab a tricorder just at the left of one of the legs.

"That is very impolite, Cadet," she said without making any effort to masque the teasing tone in her voice, "to start without me. What if you happened to figure that out all by yourself without my help, stealing all the fun?"

"Trust me, Ma'am," Came Luna's voice from under the Wanderer as she pulled herself out to regard the Science Officer, "there is plenty enough of her to go around. Besides, we Orions have been accused of many things, being impolite is the least of them. On that note, would you help me up, please?"

The redheaded Orion cadet smirked playfully and held her hand up to the Lieutenant. Her hair was already a mess, or she hadn't had time to clean up from last night. She seemed lighter than her usual pallor and the lack of her daily cosmetics made her look more grumpy than normal.

Elena grabbed the green hand extended toward her, and help the Orion girl to her feet. For a brief moment, she paused going over the scruffy looking appearance that the young Cadet was presenting herself in. Konev evidently caught her eyes, and while she really couldn't define her as worried, Lieutenant Fedorov decided to reassure her.

"Relax Cadet, regulation appearance isn't something I'm generally bothered with, especially at 0600 hours."

"Late night, last night." Was all Luna said about her appearance. Running a hand through her bedraggled hair, she squinted her eyes at the brighter hangar lights. "I once saw a man sabotage a runabout by marrying the Navigational Computer to a modified PADD by route of one of the In/Ex Countergrav units. Granted, his purpose was to pull two hundred Gees internally the next time the runabout went to impulse and squishing the passengers to the consistency of marmalade, but the concept could be used to override the Warp Computations. 'Course the Inertial Dampeners don't explain how the Wanderer got here in record time, but it might... well it doesn't matter. Nothing was jury rigged down there, so I guess my little head start was all for naught."

Extending her right hand, she passed the tablet she carried with her to Cadet Konev, and took a long sip of tea from her steamy mug while the Orion took a good look at the data in front of her nose.

"I'm afraid," Elena started explaining, "in a certain way you are quite wrong Cadet. As I'm sure you should be able to generally understand those data, being a Fourth Year Cadet if not a Science Office by training, the story we are trying to unravel here is in a sense one of sabotage. Well, in a very lateral manner of speaking." She clarified with a big smile on her face. "If we are to trust my simulations and the work done by SARAH and the computer in the night, sabotage is indeed what brought the Wanderer this far to us, but to a complete different level than mere rigging of hardware. It appears someone has messed up with space, time and the laws of physics to shove this little ship all the way here. And I'm sure you'll appreciate, to the eyes of a scientist like me, is nothing less than sabotage indeed."

Luna lowered the tablet and quirked an eye at this. From the first moment Luna had met Elena and throughout the short time they had spent on the Bridge together on the Normandie, the Russian Science Officer had always been a bit quirky. She probably didn't notice that the tablet she had handed Luna was scripted in the Cyrillic language of her heritage. Fortunately, the Orion had been raised by Russian humans on the Earth's Moon, much like Elena. Yet even Po-Russki, the scenarios laid out were beyond the normal scope of eccentric.

"'Someone has messed up with space, time and the laws of physics?'" Luna parroted in mild disbelief. "Sounds like a bit of a stretch, Leytnant Fedorova."

"Pretty extreme hypothesis, I know, but the data seem to indicate just that. This is, anyway, where you come into all this, Cadet. I need a fresh, less scientific point of view here. I can tell what are the evidences left on the ship's hull, but while I'm good with numbers and equations, I'm not that good in digging into sensors logs looking for tampering. Whomever send the ship here, seem to have taken a good deal of effort in doing it without us understanding how, but I'm sure there is something left in the ship's computer or in its many systems all around. A speckle of information that needs digging out."

"Well, that I can do." Cadet Konev grinned at her superior, handing the tablet back and nodding. "Standard analysis and diagnostics I can do in a jiffy; finding God's fingerprints all over the impossible might take some time. Hope you've got more tea coming."

She smiled at Konev. "Of that, I am never in short supply!"

Elena then moved to the rear section of the Wanderer, with Cadet Konev following her. "I think it would be best for me to finish the quantum resolution scan of the hull, before any trace that might have been left behind disappears. I need to map the sub-atomic level of all its surfaces, suddenly this ship doesn't look so small anymore. The scan it's harmless to human... and Orion for that matter, so you can start crawling inside to see what kind of access you can get to the onboard systems."

"Aye, Ma'am. Onboard systems, easy-peesy." Luna replied playfully while smirking. She walked into the Wanderer, looking over her shoulder to the natural redhead. "Please, no taking inappropriate scans of me, Leytnant. I generally charge for stuff like that."

:OFF

A Joint-Post between:
Senior Cadet Luna Konev
Intel OPS
USS Normandie

&

[Personal Quarters, USS Normandie]
[July 21, 2386: 0400 Hours]

Julian lay awake, looking out the window at the stars rushing by.

Leave the Marines and destroy your family legacy, check. Deliberately disobey orders and get yourself into a situation that could cause a mutiny on your crew, check. Fail astronomically at your final mission as Commanding Officer of the only ship you'll likely ever command, check.

He sat up, hanging his legs over the side of the double bed.

"Lights."

The lights rose to a brighter, but still nighttime level. Julian clenched and unclenched his fists a few times, staring down at them intently. His brow furrowed a bit. He'd been ordered to report for standard duty at 0800 hours, and from the looks of it, he was likely going to get very little or no sleep before then.

He wondered briefly if Dr. Holmes would request him as a transfer, when she received her new command, but he had no idea when that would even happen. He was likely stuck here for a conceivably long amount of time, and might as well get used to the idea.

He grabbed the PADD from the bedside stand, and began going over his duty roster. He was due to send a department report as of 0700 hours, and from the looks of her, the XO didn't look like she'd budge despite his having been in sickbay the better part of the day.

"Wait a goddamned minute," he said to no one in particular. The duty rotation seemed off. He knew he was going to be sharing split duty of internal security with the Marines attached, but there was a glaring error.

"SARAH," he asked, "who authorized the switch of Bridge sentry duty from Starfleet Security to the attached Marine forces?"

"It is standard procedure and a high honor for Marines to be stationed as Bridge sentries, answerable only to the Commanding and Executive Officers. Since the institution of..."

"I didn't ask for a damned history lesson, I asked who authorized it! I'm aware what the implications are and when the honor was started, I served in the Marines for Christ's sake!"

"The executive order was enacted by Lieutenant Colonel T'Lani," SARAH's reply stated. To Julian, she sounded almost hurt.

Julian grunted, and flopped back down onto his back.

This day just keeps getting better and better...