The street was in shambles, left utterly impassible due to the number of wrecked vehicles that scattered about, abandoned like the forgotten playthings of some massive child.  The acrid smell of smoke filled the air, as did the sound of weeping and wailing... but no one came to put out the fires of the burning building.  Why would they bother?

One lone figure walked calmly down the street, picking his way among the wreckage without concerning himself with it.  His clothing might have been that of a wealthy businessman or important governmental official, but now it was tattered, dirty.  Somehow, rather than detract from his presence, it seemed to add gravity to it.

"Repent, my friends!"his voice rang out, cutting through the chaos.  "Repent, for the hour is close at hand!"

The man turned his gaze to a woman weeping on the sidewalk.  He stopped, walked to her, took her hand gently into his own.  "Weep not, sister," he spoke huskily.  "it is given that everyone must die, that is natural.  Yes, the time has come for all of us, but we have the luxury of making our peace, of balancing our ledger.  There is still time!  Come with me, sister.  Repent with me!  Cleanse your soul, that we might meet eternity with joy on our faces!"

The woman slowly rose from her knees, swallowed, and nodded.  Wordlessly, she fell in behind the man as he resumed walking. 

"Repent!" he cried, his voice carrying above the bedlam around.  "Repent, for the time has come!  Cleanse your soul now, while you still can!"

The woman was joined by a neighbor, then another.  Slowly, the street preacher began to collect a procession as they strode with calm, serene faces through the chaos, meeting shouts and tears with compassion and empathy. 

"Repent!"

Stardate 2365.05.14
USS Peregrine, Observation Lounge - 06:15

Commander Drake stood alone, gazing out of the viewport, his hand absently resting on the corner of the large bronze plaque that had been installed there just prior to the new launch of the Peregrine. He glanced down, reading the inscription for what had to be at least the thirtieth time since he had stepped foot back on the ship after quarantine.

For the price of security is high, and the cost of safety is paid in blood. We honor the fallen who gave their lives in the line of duty. Twenty-seven personnel from the USS Peregrine fell during February 25th and 26th of the year 2365 in the course of a rescue mission for the USS Serapis. Their sacrifice will never be forgotten.

Crewman Oerrik Akig Petty Officer 1st Class Isma Bahar Petty Officer 3rd Class Bryan Brady Petty Officer 1st Class Darasterlee Brok Ensign Larb Groven Forb Ensign Bradley Garner Petty Officer 2nd Class Chefel Hann Ensign Paula Jenneric Petty Officer 1st Class Alysa Kampakis

Senior Chief Petty Officer Martti Kekkonen Senior Chief Petty Officer Llaxia Lieutenant Haemis McTavish Crewman Clint Myers Crewman Merida Peers Petty Officer 2nd Class Kelsie Ann Prudnikov Crewman Sandra Ann Reynolds Petty Officer 3rd Class Salia Rotet Petty Officer 1st Class Poe Saril

Crewman Pierce Lena Scheuermann Lieutenant (jg) Asovil Sh'iralonas Crewman Tam Suder Petty Officer 1st Class Diah Suharto Lieutentant Kara Tal Lieutenant Commander Eric Thorson Master Chief Petty Officer V'lur Crewman Amy Wren Petty Officer 2nd Class Rachel Wu

Twenty-seven souls, Drake mused as he traced a finger along the raised type of each name. Nearly half of his command had died during that ill-fated mission, as the crew dealt with what had come to be known as the Chimera Nanites. The microscopic artificial life forms self replicated like a virus, infecting both electronics and carbon-based life, exerting control over virtually anything that made use of electrical impulses. This caused equipment to malfunction, caused sentients to go mad.

To this day, he could not shake the nightmares, could not leave behind the guilt. So many of his people had died in accidents or explosions... or by the hand of those driven insane by the infection. If not for the heroism of Lieutenant Asovil Sh'iralonas, the Chief Science Officer, every member of both ships would have died. Asovil had designed a "vaccine" that acted something like a computer virus of its own, infecting the nanites and causing their overload. But the initial reaction to the vaccine had been violent, deadly - as she had known it would be. The Andorian had knowingly injected herself with the cure, fully realizing that she would not survive the process, but unwilling to allow anyone else to bear the terrible price in her stead.

There were other tales to be told from the incident, Drake knew that. A petty officer had taken over flight control after the deaths or incapacitation of almost everyone in her department, managed to save lives in the face of unthinkable challenges. Likewise, a young engineer had basically saved the ship in the face of similar circumstances, performing critical repairs that kept the vessel spaceworthy and allowing it to limp home. There were other unsung heroes, people who had risen to face unbelievable challenges to save their comrades and come out stronger. The Captain felt immense pride for each of these.

Truth be told, that pride was the lion's share of what kept him going each day. That and the fact that it felt like utter cowardice, like spitting on the graves of such good people who died while he yet lived, for Silas to simply crawl into a bottle and never return. But how he longed for the comfortable numbness of not knowing, not feeling this pain of loss and failure! What he would not give to forget those who had died doing the duty that he had led them into.

No, they were gone, and he was still here, a walking mockery of the uniform that he wore. All he could do was to struggle on, hope to improve, hope to be more worthy of their sacrifices - and know that such a task was impossible.

Silently, alone - just as he had done every single day since the Peregrine had returned to duty - the Captain wept in front of the memorial.



----------------------------------------------



Stardate 2365.05.14
USS Peregrine, Bridge - 10:20

Petty Officer Warren glanced up from his terminal. "Captain Drake," he spoke. "I have an incoming transmission from Starfleet Command."

Drake nodded from the command chair. "Onscreen, please, Mister Warren."

"Aye, Captain," the gold-shirted man replied. Momentarily, the viewscreen sprang to life.

The female admiral with the graying brown hair was all too familiar. Drake made an effort to exhale before speaking.

"Admiral Harding. What can we do for you?" the Captain spoke evenly as he took his feet.

The Admiral kept a neutral, business like tone, her expression pinched. "Commander Drake. Reports indicate that navigation beacon Gamma Four Seven Alpha has malfunctioned. That beacon lies just inside of the Calican system, which is rather near your location. Your orders are to proceed to the Calican system and repair this beacon if at all possible."

Drake nodded. That feels like busywork for a warship, he mused. "Aye, Admiral. That should be a simple enough task."

Harding frowned slightly. "I expect that you are correct concerning the repair itself. Do be advised, Commander, that the Calican system is home to a pre-warp humanoid civilization. They have developed rudimentary spaceflight within the past two decades, have begun placing satellites around their homeworld, have recently made a successful flight to and from their moon. Your orders are to complete these repairs, but to do so with the utmost of discretion - the Prime Directive is of course in full force here; the Calican sentients are to be lieft entirely alone. In no case are you to have any sort of contact with this society, do you understand?"

Silas did his best to unclench his teeth and speak calmly. "Certainly, Admiral. I am fully aware of the scope of the Prime Directive."

Harding nodded. "Very good, Commander Drake. Harding out." With that, the feed cut, and the viewscreen returned to normal.

Drake sighed as he retook his seat. "You heard the Admiral, Tochi. Lay in a course for the Calican system, engage warp factor six."

OOC: assuming an affirmative

"It looks like we have something to do, at least," Silas mused. It did irk the Captain to no end that Admiral Harding *always* seemed to know more than she chose to share. He silently wondered how much that the woman had elected to not share this time.

Stardate: 2365.04.21

Starbase 118, Holosuite/Corridor/Shuttlebay 12 – 2200

The fading sound of clapping, cheering and grunting went on behind the couple as they stepped out of the holosuite.  They linked arms, smiling warmly at each other as the doors slid shut and they began down the hall. 

“Well… what did you think?” The man’s voice was deep and raspy, pairing well with his imposing features.  John Collins stood well over 6 feet tall, his complexion was a deep brown with reddish undertones.  He wore his long sleek black hair pulled into a braid that fell down his back and was tied with strips of leather.  The hairline began high on his forehead, revealing the subtle pattern of ridges running down his forehead and onto his nose.  Most striking, though, were his bright blue eyes, that stood out in contrast to the general darkness of him.  Tonight he was dressed in a long black leather tunic, soft pale colored leggings and heavy boots. 

“You want my honest opinion?” The woman next to him smirked a little.  She came up to his shoulder, although that did not mean she was short.  In comparison to him, her complexion was a milky white, a feature that was punctuated by the dark black hair that she wore in a short pixie cut.  California Kennedy’s build was toned and fit but not muscular.  The features of her face were well defined, and by the wrinkles forming along the edges of her eyes and her mouth it seemed obvious that she frowned more than smiled.  Presently she was dressed in a tight pair of black pants, tall black boots, an orange tank top with a golden sheen to the material and a black leather jacket.  To this ensemble she had added several items of silver jewelry, a collection of necklaces that dangled down the bare skin of her chest, cuffs on her wrist, long dangling earrings and a barbell piercing in her well sculpted eyebrow. 

“At this point… yes… honesty would be appreciated.”  He responded, giving her a light shove as they continued down the grey hallway. 

“I loved it.  I have seen a few Klingon cultural displays in my time, but nothing quiet like that…” 

“Klingon Opera… Carmen, in the original Klingon, it is something to behold.” 

They made a turn and moved into a long corridor that ran along the outer edge of the Starbase, and thus had large windows that punctuated the wall, opening out to a view of the stars and the ships that were docked here. 

“You were not raised on Klingon though, correct?” 

“No.  My mother raised me on one of the lunar colonies… but when I was old enough I went and studied the culture of my father.  My mother did not approve, but it was something I needed to do.  Honestly, much of it was very… strange to say the least.  But I came to have a great appreciation for their musical arts.” 

Kennedy smiled again.  “I can see why.  It really was magical.”  Her eyes drifted from the man beside her to the large windows and then to one of the ships.  She sighed. 

“Come along… I’ve got something else in store for us tonight, it being your last night and all…”  

Kennedy pulled her eyes back to the handsome man she was with.  “Oh yes?” 

He nodded and took her hand in his, walking a little quicker down the corridor.  The windows ended and a series of blast doors were lined up along this wall.  He went down to the third one and then stopped to enter a code into the control panel. 

=^= Voice authorization required. =^= The computer chimed.

Collins gave her a wink and then continued.  “Lt. John Collins.”

=^=Authorization approved=^=

The blast doors opened to a shuttle bay.  Two shuttles were hunched over to one side of bay, the launch doors were already open giving way to a spectacular view.  On the middle of the open floor there was a blanket a few pillows and a picnic basket set up. 

Callie couldn’t help but laugh a little as she saw the trouble he had gone through.  “Aren’t you worried about someone needing one of these shuttles?” 

John took her hand and pulled her into the shuttle bay, letting the doors slide closed behind them.  “No.  Those two shuttles are out of commission, need repairs, and no one is slated to work on them for at least two more days.  We’ve got the place to ourselves.” 

Her smile didn’t falter as she moved toward the blanket.  “You bring lots of pretty ladies in here don’t you?” 

“Pretty ladies?  No… I’ve got access to an executive suite up on G deck for those… I only bring the mediocre ladies into the shuttle bay…”  He sat down and started rummaging through the basket. 

“John!” she chided, laughing as she sat down next to him. 

He brought out the food and the wine and they sat there, talking, laughing, enjoying each other’s company.  Yet, her eyes kept flitting out toward the ship attached to the dock, her shining grey hull lit by bright white spotlights, and each time they did her smile quavered just slightly and her voice dropped a little. 

Finally, John reached over and took her hand in his.  “You’re distracted… melancholy.  I’d like to think it was because you are leaving tomorrow and can’t stand the thought of leaving me behind here on the Starbase… but… that’s not it…” 

She had been looking out at the Peregrine again, and took a deep breath as she trailed her thumb across his knuckles.  “No it’s not.”  Her eyes, bright with moisture, tore from the ship and went back to her companion.  “I’m sorry John.  I do really like you, and I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve had together… I just… I don’t even know how to put it into words…” 

He squeezed her hand.  “It’s okay.  I like you too.  I know you have a lot on your mind.  I just wish I understood more… you were so excited about this posting when you showed up.  Your pips were brand new and you kept going on and on about the warp drives and how great running your own engine room was going to be… but… every day you’ve been losing that, and you launch tomorrow… and I don’t think you want to.  Now… like I said, we’ll keep you here, the base could use some of your skill, and I could use some more time with you too…”

The smile that lit her face didn’t quiet touch her eyes when he offered to keep her on the starbase.  “Thank you…” she said softly and then pulled her hand out of his.  Her arms wrapped around herself and she rubbed her upper arms as if she were cold.  “I think some of it is just nerves, new command nerves.  I expect most commanders feel a bit apprehensive before taking their first post as a department head.  What if I’m not up to the job?  But…”  she sighed and paused, shaking her head because deep down she knew there was more to it than that.  “But…” 

John just sat next to her, wrapping his arm around her waist and waiting for her to figure out the words she needed.

“But there’s something about the Peregrine.  I wasn’t expecting to feel it, because I was excited… I was told that there was an opening on a saber class vessel, they had experienced heavy casualties and damage, were under quarantine but that I could get to work almost immediately.  None of that bothered me, I love my work, and the challenge seemed stimulating.  I was able to get a diagnostic of the ship sent over to me before I even left the Gallant, began working on her from the moment I took the assignment.  But I didn’t know then, what I know now.  Because… she’s…”  She closed her eyes and shook her head.

John reached up with his free hand and touched her chin lightly.  “She’s what?”  He whispered, concerned and curious at the same time.

“She’s haunted…” as the words fell out of her mouth she kept her eyes shut and then shook her head.  “No… not exactly what I mean, but close.  I don’t think there are ghosts flitting down the corridors.”  Her eyes opened and she laughed awkwardly at the thought of ghosts.  “But what she went through… it wasn’t just combat, or just a virus… it was awful.  The crew members are haunted, you can see it in their eyes.  They are all good people, but what they had to live through...  It connects them, and yet tears them apart… And the ship herself, I’ve done my best, but… there are scars on her that I’m not sure will ever fully go away. 

“I’ve been through things, I grew up working on a nuclear plant, I served on the Gallant for years… I’ve lost crew members, I’ve lived through accidents and even a little combat… but this was different.  My father… he had this phrase, ‘Ghosts in the Machine’… and it keeps ringing through my head. He’d use it sometimes for when things just kept going wrong for no reason, but sometimes he’d also use it when he just got a bad vibe from some technology.  That’s what it feels like. 

“I’m sure it also doesn’t help that I haven’t really gotten close to anyone on board yet.  I’m lonely out there.  Partly my fault, I’ve kept my quarters here on the base until only a few days ago.  And of course, there are those new commander jitters to deal with as well.  I don’t want to go out there on the Peregrine.  It sounds terrible, but there it is.”

She took a long breath and closed her eyes a moment, it actually felt a little better getting it off her chest.  Collins simply sat beside her, lightly holding her.

“I’m sorry John.  You had this whole lovely evening planned out and I’m ruining it for you.” 

John simply shook his head and stroked his finger along her jaw line.  “No… it’s okay Callie.  You’re going to have to try harder than that to ruin my night.  I know what you mean about the crew, I’ve seen it.  And even some about the ship, don’t forget I’ve been working with you to get her running.  But I get to stay here tomorrow, so it isn’t as intense a feeling for me.  I wish I could do something to help…” 

She looked into his eyes and then leaned in.  “Let me stay with you tonight, I don’t have to report for duty until the morning, keep me distracted for a little while…”  she whispered softly. 

“Yes sir…” he rumbled and ran his fingers into her hair as he pulled her in for a kiss. 

Stardate: 2365.04.22

USS Peregrine, Cmdr Kennedy’s Personal Quarters – 1730

The launch had gone smoothly.  Thank goodness for that.  She had stood on the Bridge, operating Engineering from the console there while they had slid out of space dock.  The tension there had been so thick she could have cut it with a knife, as the old saying had gone.  No one spoke much except for what needed to be said to operate a safe launching of the ship. 

Kennedy had stood watching Starbase 118 get smaller and smaller with each passing moment.  Only a few hours before she had slipped quietly out of Lt. Collin’s quarters while he was still sleeping and made her way down the quiet early morning corridors of the Spacebase and then into her own new quarters.  She had changed, taken a sonic shower and then went to make a final sweep of Engineering before going to the bridge. 

As soon as the base got small enough to no longer be recognizable as a base she had taken leave to go back down into Engineering and put in her days work.  The Peregrine was stable enough to go out on her own, but like all ships she still had work to be done. 

For instance, there was an issue with the turbolifts, they were not always picking up voice commands, making passengers repeat themselves several times before their orders were carried out.  It wasn’t dangerous, but it was irritating.  There were Jefferies tubes that had temporary wiring done after Chimera that would need more permanent solutions given to them.  An error message on a memory bank couldn’t be cleared, and so forth. 

She had spent the day working on all of these problems and that had kept her mind occupied.  At the end of the day all she had wanted was to return to her quarters, make sure that Pudding was adapting to the new quarters, have a drink and go to sleep. 

Upon returning to her quarters that night a surprise had greeted her.  Sitting on her small coffee table was a bright blue flower in a pot, a small wrapped box and a card.  Pudding, the 10 pound Siamese cat, came up to her and wrapped around her ankles as she stepped in. 

“Missed me?  I missed you too… what’s with the gifts?  I’ve never known you to get me gifts…”  Kennedy reached down and picked up the card, printed on plain heavy white paper was this:

Callie,

This is a Crey.  A Ferengi luck flower.  No doubt I overpaid for it.  Thought you could use a little luck.  Water it now and then.  I also took the liberty of copying the Carmen program onto a data card for you, get some use out of it.  Take care and make sure to find me next time you are on my base. 

John

“You’re terrible as a guard cat, Puds.  You’ll let just about anyone in here won’t you?  I’m glad you did… lets go get that drink and snuggle up under the covers, huh?” 

Lightly she ran a finger along the delicate petal on the flower, then scooped Pudding up under one arm and the small box into her other hand as she retreated toward her bedroom. 

Stardate: 2365.04.22

USS Peregrine, Holodeck

"Such a undisciplined child.." Esel scolded himself as again as he rounded the corner of the familiar running track he had programmed into the Holodeck. His breath came hard and fast as he sprinted down the straight, noticing as he came out of the sprint into another corner, he had yet again failed to meet his personal best. Today was not what he was expecting, but what was he expecting? A fanfare, massive crowds and fireworks?

Undisciplined fool, such child like expectations. He scolded again. His mind went back again to his first stepping onto USS Peregrine, the excitement of his first shipboard assignment, the excitement to head up his first science department. As he had entered the science department a spring in his stride and pride in his heart.

"Good day to you all, how are we looking?" he called as he made his way across the science department. The atmosphere caught him unawares like a blow to the gut, thick, solemn and silent the new crew members stood in awkward silence while Petty Officer Crane looked at him obviously struggling to contain an emotional response, managing her reply to a curt "Ready as she will ever be......Sir" He quickly made his way to his console and thumbed through a data pad of reports and routines, which he only half paid attention to as his mind flashed back to the pre assignment report.

This ship had been to hell and back and her crew along with her. He recounted. All had lost and suffered for it, the physical and emotional scars are still a very real presence to the surviving crew. I must think of them, be more empathic to their history. As he replayed the report in his head he played over and over the part his predecessor CSO had played in stopping the events that where unfolding.

She was a fellow Andorian making the ultimate sacrifice. A true hero of Andoria and Star Fleet.

Doubt started to creep into his mind how was he supposed to follow this those footsteps. He realised how much he, as an Andorian would hit home to the department the loss they have suffered, only they know the friendships they had made in the time before the incident. He would have to tread more carefully in the future.

He turned to face his department "Chief, I apologies if I came across cold and indifferent a moment ago, that's on me and was not my intentions. I shall be on the bridge during departure as it will be my first time." He gave a slight smile.

"Aye Sir" was all had in reply.

With that he made his way to the bridge to prepare to leave space dock again the excitement and nerves filled him, but he kept them to himself. It had taken a couple of attempts to get the turbo lift to take him to the bridge and he was worried that his emotional state was some how effecting his ability to speak. Upon the bridge the same atmosphere greeted him as he took up his position at the science console think and solemn. As Captain Drake gave the command to leave space dock and the ship started to slip free of its moorings and out into space. Esel found himself starting wide eyed in wonder at the spectacle and excitement swam in his stomach, though that initial pang of shame still sat heavily on his shoulders. He made a mental note to himself to speak to Ensign Eilal about shipboard life and routine, when time allowed.

Esel dropped to his knees, panting hard and terminated the holodeck program. His head finally cleared it was time to get on with things.

Stardate 2365.04.25; 21:30

USS Peregrine; Deck 5 – The Aerie

As she approached the hatch that opened into Peregrine’s observation lounge, Megan Owen reflected for, perhaps the fifteenth time since she’d stepped off the gangway, how surreal it seemed to walk these corridors and see them looking fresh and new when, only two months ago, they had been scorched and scarred had they even been there at all. Tentatively, she let her hand reach out and her fingertips light on the smooth bulkhead that, only weeks ago, had been nothing more than a jagged, gaping hole in the hull, bandaged by the ethereal blue energy of an emergency forcefield…

 How many did we lose, here, she couldn’t help but wonder, swallowing the razor-sharp lump that had formed in her throat, along with those in th’ shuttlebay… an’ aboard th’ Serapis?

…Her fingers recoiled and balled into a fist as if the memories of that day had somehow woven themselves into the bulkhead and, at her touch, burned her fingers. She almost choked on the gasp that accompanied the sensation and she most certainly flinched when the Engineering crewman from Starbase 118 reacted to the sound.

“Are you alright, sir,” the young man asked, his attentions snapping away from the access panel in which he had been working to regard the elfin ensign.

“Ah… Aye,” Megan nodded faintly, clutching the now trembling fingers of her one hand in the other, “I… uh… I was jus’…” She offered a quick shake of her head, then, causing the thick, tightly plaited ponytail to thunk almost audibly against her waifish shoulders… “I was lookin’ fer Commander Zai?”

The crewman regarded her curiously for a split-second, then nodded and inclined his head toward the doors of the Aerie. “Been on board most of the day,” he said, “and in there for the last couple of hours, sir.”

“Thank ye, Crewman,” Megan smiled weakly, “Carry on.”

“Aye, sir,” the young man replied, dutifully returning to his work as Megan took the last few steps toward the doors.

As the doors whooshed away before her, she squared her shoulders and sucked in a steadying breath before she stepped into the dimly lit lounge. Before her eyes found the form of the Trill XO, her ears registered the strains of a song being strummed on a guitar and a soft, melancholy voice hung in the air…

~And I wonder
When I sing along with you

If everything could ever feel this way forever
If anything could be this good again
The only thing I'll ever ask of you
You've got to promise not to stop when I say when
She sang

And I wonder

If everything could ever feel this real forever
If anything could ever be this good again
The only thing I'll ever ask of you
You've got to promise not to stop when I say when~

 …The sadness of the melody and the scarcely restrained longing in Tochi’s voice caused Megan’s breath to hitch in her chest and tears to well in her eyes. Her steps faltered as, once again, she sought to compose herself and, after a moment, she managed to coax herself further into the Aerie’s gloom. When she spied him, after wading through the murk of the dimmed lights and the despondent strains of the music, she was more than a little surprised to find that he was not in uniform. Instead, he was clad in civilian clothes – a pair of jeans and a plain lack t-shirt beneath an embellished leather jacket – hunched over the guitar he strummed, sitting at the very table at which he and Lt Sh’iaraolnas had shared so many lunches but with a bottle of Saurian brandy and a half full tumbler before him.

“Ar... are ye a’right, Commander,” she asked, almost deigning to interrupt his singing despite the sadness it evoked.

“Tochi,” came the reply.

“Sir?” Her steps faltered, again, and, in order to mask her indecision in that moment, Megan reached behind the bar and snagged another glass between her fingers before continuing toward the table where her XO sat.

“We’re in The Aerie, Meg,” Zai intoned in the space between where lyrics were required in the song he sang, though he continued strumming the melody, “there’s no rank here. You can call me Tochi… Vaela would.”

“Aye,” Megan murmured, rolling the glass nervously between her hands as she took another tentative step closer to where he sat..

~And I wonder~

 “Are ye a’right,” she swallowed, drawing up next to him where he sat, “T-Tochi?”

~If everything could feel this good forever….~

 “No...”

~If anything could ever feel this good, again….~

 “…Not really. Are you?”

“No, sir,” she replied, forcing her feet to continue on their course to his (their) table but stopping short of claiming the empty seat, “No. I’m not… C’n… C’n I sit?”

“Please.” The Trill answered, nodding vaguely to the empty chair without looking up from the guitar that spanned his lap.

~…The only thing I’ll ask of you,

You’ve got to promise not to stop when I say when…~

 Tentatively, she sank into the seat which he typically occupied during his lunches with Asovil, and set the glass on the surface of the table before nodding at the bottle before him; “May I?”

“Of course.”

As she poured a healthy sampling of the Saurian Brandy into her glass, Megan became keenly aware of the fact that Tochi had stopped singing and was, in fact, eyeing her intently. Again, she swallowed the lump in her throat, aided by the lubricant afforded her by the brandy. “Are ye cross wi’ me, sir,” she asked, nearly breathless in the wake of the liquor she’d just swallowed.

“Cross?” Tochi spiked a brow, regarding the girl curiously, and folded his arms atop the guitar’s body. “Not at all,” he answered, “Why would you think that?”

“Well,” Megan sighed, her gaze dipping to stare into the amber liquid in her glass, “because ye’ve said nary a word ta me since we’ve been outta quarantine, fer one; an’…” she tipped the glass to her lips, again, and drained it’s contents, wincing at the burn it left in her throat or, possibly, in reaction to her eyes meeting his, “…an’ because it was me tha’ flew Asovil o’er ta th’ Serapis.”

The Trill offered a scarcely perceptible shake of his head and, as he reached for his own glass, a soft, shuddering sigh whispered past his lips. “You were following orders, Megan,” he said before taking a sip of the brandy, “Her orders. How could we possibly be angry with you for that?”

Megan’s lower lip trembled, her eyes watered, and she was forced to swallow that damnable lump, again, lest it crack her voice; “Because she… di… she dinna come back.”

“No, she didn’t,” Tochi whispered in reply. He set aside his glass and the guitar, then, and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers and pressing his lips to them as he gazed out the window beyond Megan’s seat. “She didn’t,” he continued, “and that, too, was her choice… she would have said it was her duty. Had she not done what she did, it’s likely that none of us would be here, today.”

Megan nodded faintly, wiped the tears from her eyes, and reached across the table to pour another splash of brandy. “Ye loved her, didn’t ye?”

As his gaze broke from the view beyond the window and settled back on the elfin features of his new ACFO, a sad, longing smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I was certainly attracted to her,” he admitted softly, “and I enjoyed her company a great deal. I felt… something… but, given the relatively short time she and I had together, we don’t know that it was love.” He took up his glass, again, and indulged in a longer sip than his last; “I would have liked to have found out.”

Stardate 2365.05.14
USS Peregrine, SickBay – 10:15

Chief Petty Officer Dana Cook sat quietly at her workstation, her head resting in the palms of her hands. She seemed to be trying to squeeze her skull as if to keep it's contents within. Her eyes were closed tightly, and her face was frozen in a look of pain.

These damn visions, why wont they go away. was the thought that rattled through her brain. Here in the Sickbay, they seemed to be the strongest, as this was the place where she saw most of horrors that happened during the Chimera incident. If she could only make them go away, she might be more like her old self, but she didn't think that would ever happen.

It had been a time she would never forget; all the death, all the distrust, all the terror. Not knowing if a person next to you would try to kill you, or if some piece of equipment might explode around you. She had seem battle before, and come though it with little psychological problems, but this was different. Cook had watched as Nurse Sandra Reynolds, driven mad by the strange virus, tried to kill Doc Reines with a laser scalpel. How Dana had to grab her and pull her away as the Doctor screamed for help. She had pulled Nurse Reynolds off, but in the process, the laser scalpel was turned on her. The pain of the hot beam as it racked down her right cheek was almost unbearable. Somehow she had throw off the crazy woman, who had been her friend and coworker, and hurled her across the Sickbay. She grasped at her burned cheek and turned to look at her attacker, and saw to her horror that she had thrown her hard into one of the medical beds, her head striking the edge hard. Nurse Reynolds was down and her neck at a strange angle leaving no doubt she was dead. Cook was horrified to have killed her, even if it was self defense. If only she could have restrained her somehow, she might have survived; not knowing at the time that a vaccine would be developed to save her.

Chief Cook shook herself out of her reverie of the horrors of a couple months ago. She straightened herself in her chair, grasped the bottom edge of her tunic and pulled it down a little to adjust it properly. I can't let this get to me again. They let me return to duty because they were confident that I would recover, even though I'm not so sure of that myself sometimes.

After the nanite 'vaccine' had managed to stop the virus in equipment and people, they had lost almost half of the ship's crew. Three of her own medical team had been killed, and everyone else seems severely traumatized by the events, even the good Doctor herself. Dana didn't think anything could shake Melody like that, but seeing all of the death and they way people were driven to kill others, had taken a toll on her. Once they had limped back to Starbase, the Doctor was one that had elected to ask for a leave of absence, and reassignment, if she ever returned to service.

Cook had been close herself to losing it completely. During the quarantine period they had all had to endure, had to be sure the virus was indeed gone, she had spent a lot of time with doctors and especially shrinks. They didn't really use that word anymore, but that was the way she saw it. At first it had been difficult to talk about it, but over the time she eventually opened up. Dana saw it as two possible solutions for her; fall apart and let them remove her from active duty and put her in some mental ward, or get through it enough that they would let her go back to work. She definitely wanted option number 2.

It hadn't been easy getting them to buy into her being more capable of returning to work than she had been weeks earlier, especially since she insisted on keeping the scar that ran down her right cheek from just below her eye down to her jaw. In the hospital, they had treated her earlier injuries, but she had refused to let them treat her facial injury with a dermal regenerater. She wanted that scar so that she would never forget what had happened when she got it, and the life of a friend that she had been forced to take.

In the end, Chief Petty Officer Cook had been returned to active status, and about a week later the USS Peregrine had been relaunched after replacing vital crew members who had been lost, or decided not to return. She didn't blame them really, she had thought about it herself. Dana saw it as if she didn't have any choice; to run away from her assignment would be a coward's way out. She had to be here, where it had all happened. It was the only way she could recover, and get on with her life, as it were.

Cook rose to her feet now and looked around the Sickbay; all clean and proper, and gleaming like new. It was new basically, as most of it's equipment had to have been replaced after the incident. She leaned down and picked up the datapad there; she had to check over the duty roster, and see if anything needed adjusting. Dana hadn't handled the loss of Doctor Reine very well, but she was going to give this new CMO a chance, just like the new medical personnel. It was the only way the past would be left in the past.

Time to move forward, time to heal; at least she hoped that is what was going to happen.

Stardate 2365.05.14
USS Peregrine, Bridge – 1020

“Captain Drake, I have an incoming transmission from Starfleet Command.”

“Onscreen, please, Mister Warren,” Drake requested

Tochi’s eyes lifted from the CONN, flitted to PO Warren at the OPS station, then to Silas before returning to the viewscreen. When Admiral Harding’s face appeared, the Trill scowled faintly and may have even heaved an exasperated sigh. This bitch, he grumbled inwardly, It never bodes well when we see her face. He cast his gaze down, again, feigning an interest in his consoles so as not to let his sour expression be visible to the Admiral… not that she was likely to pay him much mind, anyway.

“…What can we do for you?” Drake queried.

“Commander Drake. Reports indicate that navigation beacon Gamma Four Seven Alpha has malfunctioned,” the pinch-faced woman intoned, “That beacon lies just inside of the Calican system, which is rather near your location. Your orders are to proceed to the Calican system and repair this beacon if at all possible.”

“Aye Admiral,” Drake replied as Tochi brought up his starcharts and located the Calican system, “That should be a simple enough task.”

Sounds like busywork to me, the Trill mused as he occupied himself with plotting a course to Calican, We can’t help but wonder what the Admiral isn’t telling us.

“I expect that you are correct concerning the repair itself,” Harding returned, “Do be advised, Commander, that the Calican system is home to a pre-warp humanoid civilization. They have developed rudimentary spaceflight within the past two decades, have begun placing satellites around their homeworld, have recently made a successful flight to and from their moon. Your orders are to complete these repairs, but to do so with the utmost of discretion - the Prime Directive is of course in full force here; the Calican sentients are to be left entirely alone. In no case are you to have any sort of contact with this society, do you understand?”

Condescending crone.

“Certainly, Admiral,” Drake answered rather shortly, “I am fully aware of the scope of the Prime Directive.”

“Very good, Commander Drake. Harding Out.”

“You heard the Admiral, Tochi,” the Captain said, sighing as he retook his seat, “Lay in a course for the Calican system, engage warp factor six.”

“Already done, sir,” the Trill replied, “Punching it at warp six.” His fingers danced over the console, bringing the Peregrine around to the proper heading and then engaging the warp engines.

“It looks like we have something to do, at least,” Silas mused as the starfield on the viewscreen morphed into streaks of light.

“Yes, sir,” Tochi said, “and likely more than we’re aware of, I would guess.”

Stardate 2365.05.14 (Friday)
U.S.S. Peregrine; Deck 5 - Shuttle Bay 2 – 0402

“Sir?” Chief Petty Officer Tara Palmer approaches Ander with a furrowed brow and flitting eyes, the PADD she holds drawing all of her attention like a black hole. 

“Mister Palmer!” Lt. Ferrero responds as though greeting a long lost friend as he looks up from his own device. 

“I think there’s been a mistake,” she narrows her eyes and stops a few feet from him.

“On my watch?” Ander widens his eyes and shakes his head, “Unheard of.”

Flicking a glance up at her commanding officer, the woman can’t suppress a slight shake of her head at his demeanor. Everyone else on the Peregrine is still in mourning, being respectfully solemn, except for this new Ops officer. He’s good-looking enough but there’s almost a palpable field of nonchalant cavalierness all about him and Tara isn’t sure she appreciates it. People are dead… sir. 

“We have five crates of unknown materials that aren’t listed on the manifest,” she decides to ignore her disfavor and make her report. It’s early, after all, and there’s still a long day ahead.

“You don’t say?” Ander tucks his PADD beneath his left arm as he crosses his forearm over his ribs and rests his right elbow on it. Peering at the support beams overhead he strikes a thoughtful pose complete with stroking his shaven chin with his right hand. “Five?” his head jerks just a little to the side, “Not… say… twelve?”

“Twelve? Sir?” Tara furtively glances up from her screen to attempt reading his face. 

“Sí, Mr. Palmer,” Ander grins disarmingly, “It is the numero that follows eleven… typically.”

Pressing her lips together, Palmer returns to scanning the manifest where she confirms her original count. “No sir. Definitely five.”

“Well then,” Lt. Ferrero drops his hands to his sides and tugs at his uniform, ironing out the folds in his jacket. “You see? It could be worse.”

“Sir?”

“There are only five… not twelve. It could be worse.”

“I understand that sir,” Palmer shakes her head a little, the furrow between her neatly trimmed brows deepening. “But, these aren’t supposed to be on board, sir. Should I call Security?”

“Let me think abou—” Ander leans forward and looks first to the right and then to the left before peering directly up from beneath his eyebrows to meet her confused stare, “Shhhh… These crates are part of a top-secret operation that only those with the highest clearance are privileged to know about. That’s why they aren’t on the manifest, Chief.”

Palmer draws in a deep breath. After the recent past events she isn’t sure how she feels about secret containers. There was a rather severe accident in one of the science labs that was caused by materials being smuggled on board that Operations had no idea about. Well, at least in this case, he is the Operations Officer. 

“You’re hesitating, Chief,” Ander straightened up and scratches the side of his nose, “It isn’t a good look on you.”

“Yes sir,” Tara responds somewhat reluctantly, “I understand, sir.”

“Bueno,” Ander grins revealing even white teeth that practically sparkle in the shuttle bay light. “Will you please make sure that they are properly ignored by the rest of the department? Gracias, jefa.”

Stardate 2365.05.14 (Friday)
U.S.S. Peregrine; Deck 5 - Shuttle Bay 2 – 0410

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stardate 2365.05.14 (Friday)
USS Peregrine; Deck 1 - Bridge - Start of Alpha Shift

Whistling a raucous tune he can’t quite place the origin to, Lieutenant Ander Ferrero strolls right into the open turbo lift along with two others he doesn’t know. He continues to whistle the fast-paced notes as each of them departs on their respective decks. What the devil is the name of this música? The thought is preoccupying and keeps him from even consciously recognizing when the lift ceases moving. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, the Latino male does his best to review his recent playlist, the whole while blowing the unknown tune through pursed lips and tapping a booted foot to the rhythm. Swishing hydraulics give cause for his eyes to pop open again and the whistle to die like a downed aircraft. Running his hands down his chest and tight belly, the Lieutenant smooths out any creases in his uniform and steps onto the Bridge. 

According to the schedule, Petty Officer Warren should be on duty for Alpha, but  Ander had reasons of his own to be on the Bridge. Scanning the broad, softly illuminated chamber, Ferrero realizes he’s a little early. Those present are all engaged in preflight activities and barely notice his arrival. 

Drawing in a deep breath, Ander strides to the Ops station catching Warren’s eye in the process. Dutifully, PO Warren removes himself from the forward-looking station and turns to monitor the wall station. Taking up his position at the console, Ander enters his credentials and begins his preflight checks. Moridan has already compiled the early morning reports which Ander reviews with alacrity and precision. Everything good here… The Lieutenant then switches over to the system reports and reviews everything from replicator rations to weapons stores. This task takes him right through to the incoming call.

USS Peregrine, Bridge - 10:20

Petty Officer Warren glances up from his terminal. "Captain Drake," he says. "I have an incoming transmission from Starfleet Command."

Ander has been waiting for something solid, some assignment that would potentially bring this ship back to life. ‘Bout time, he thinks but keeps his eyes on the data streaming across the console screen just beneath his fingers.

Drake nods from the command chair. "Onscreen, please, Mister Warren."

"Aye, Captain," the gold-shirted man replies. The viewscreen springs to life, drawing Ferrero’s attention. 

Captain Drake exhales before speaking.

"Admiral Harding. What can we do for you?" the Captain speaks evenly as he rises to his feet.

Is that dislike I hear in the good Captain’s voice? Ander ponders, his fingers dancing across the console to pull up ship logs—those of public record such as the recordings from the Observation Lounge. What brings a smile to your face, Captain? He muses and enters the search function to focus on the Captain’s visits.

The Admiral keeps a neutral, business-like tone, her expression pinched. "Commander Drake. Reports indicate that navigation beacon Gamma Four Seven Alpha has malfunctioned. That beacon lies just inside of the Calican system, which is rather near your location. Your orders are to proceed to the Calican system and repair this beacon if at all possible."

Pausing in his visual search, Lt. Ferrero lifts his eyes to the circular patterned architecture of the ceiling. Do we have the right materials onboard? Engineering has a large pattern replicator… there are plenty of raw materials… The bees are in working order… yup. Should be good to go. With this mental checklist complete, Ander returns to scanning video footage, watching Drake’s order preferences with particular interest, and mentally noting any time the Captain registers a smile.

Drake nods, "Aye, Admiral. That should be a simple enough task."

Harding frowns slightly. "I expect that you are correct concerning the repair itself. Do be advised, Commander, that the Calican system is home to a pre-warp humanoid civilization. They have developed rudimentary spaceflight within the past two decades, have begun placing satellites around their homeworld, have recently made a successful flight to and from their moon. Your orders are to complete these repairs, but to do so with the utmost of discretion—the Prime Directive is, of course, in full force here; the Calican sentients are to be left entirely alone. In no case are you to have any sort of contact with this society, do you understand?"

Silas responds calmly, "Certainly, Admiral. I am fully aware of the scope of the Prime Directive."

Harding nods. "Very good, Commander Drake. Harding out." With that, the feed cut, and the viewscreen returned to normal.

Drake sighs as he retakes his seat. "You heard the Admiral, Tochi. Lay in a course for the Calican system, engage warp factor six."

“Already done, sir,” the Trill replied, “Punching it at warp six.” His fingers danced over the console, bringing the Peregrine around to the proper heading and then engaging the warp engines.

“It looks like we have something to do, at least,” Silas mused as the starfield on the viewscreen morphed into streaks of light.

“Yes, sir,” Tochi said, “and likely more than we’re aware of, I would guess.”

Ander closes out his research into the Captain’s drink preferences, a plan developing in his devious mind. Turning his attention back to the work that PO Warren is doing, Ander double-checks the man’s efforts with satisfaction. With this crew being as capable as they are, I’ll have plenty of time to do my thing, he allows himself a slight smile at this determination. This’ll be fun.

Once the ship is on the move, warp factor six, Ander excuses himself from the Bridge to take care of some additional department business, entrusting Warren to his job. 

Stardate 2365.05.14 (Friday)
USS Peregrine; Deck 1 - Bridge - 10:45

Stardate 2365.05.14
USS Peregrine, Deck 5 - Gymnasium - 05:30

Stab left.

Miss.

Feint right, aim for disabling the ankle.

Miss.

Drop low, sweep the legs.

Hit.

Arms pinned with body weight, dancerknife to throat, hand over mouth.

Win.

Polygons of light dispersed into the air as Zhay-la Zha'von Taissud panted, watching the impassive eyes of the hologram until it disappeared. The holo-diodes darkened, leaving her alone on the wrestling mat. She took a moment to deactivate the crackling blue energy of her dancerknife's blade, then stood, legs shaking beneath her. She had been in the gymnasium since 3 am, too wound up by the stillness of her quarters to sleep, and even now she was abuzz with nerves.

Her first posting as Chief Tactical Officer, head of her own department, a place on the bridge that she could lay claim to. Not a grunt carrying an unfired phaser, a pipless specialist perpetually on away missions, or even a bodyguard with "Chief of Security" attached to make her placement at an Admiral's side official. A bonafide command position that she earned of her own merit.

That she was posted to a ship carrying more ghosts than people was not her preference, but Zhay-la wasn't about to make a fuss. She had used up her "get out of jail free" cards early in her career, after all; kicking up a storm here would do nothing good for her or the many names she was representing on the Peregrine. Better to keep her concerns for her briefings with Arentzen and working out on the training deck.

Wobbling her way over to her bag, Zhay-la made short work of finishing off her water bottle and patting down her neck and arms. A shower was in order, most definitely, and she still had yet to organize her medals, if they were even out of boxes yet. Not to mention the disarray she'd left her quarters in on her in-the-dark flight from bed to gym. She could have sworn it was her Starfleet suit she felt hit the floor while she was looking for her favourite sports bra...

"Enough," she spoke to the cacophany in her head. Organization had never been her strong suit, and having a command of her own seemed unlikely to change that, but one wrinkle in her suit today would not take away her pride in seeing an Orion wearing a lieutenant's bars.

Nor would it stop the shaking in her fingers, however.

One more round, she decided. The holo-diodes made a chirrup of recognition to her command, rezzing a large, green-skinned man back into existence before her. Zhay-la, breath evening out as the tunnel vision of combat took over, gave the hologram of her father a split second to get his guard up before she came at him, dancerknife making a blue arch through the air.

Stardate 2365.05.14
USS Peregrine, Bridge - 9:45

It was a small luxury to have the turbo lift to herself, granting Zhay-la all the preening time she needed. Veil secured at her neck, pendant straight, black bangs fashionably spread across her forehead, and most importantly, dancerknife holstered smoothly beneath her shirt sleeve and phaser tucked neatly at her side. That she was fifteen minutes early was just more good fortune.

Zhay-la's good mood died relatively quickly when she stepped off the lift and onto the bridge. A heavy, sombre air hung low over the room, quieting the crew to murmurs, the whirrs and chirps of the consoles the only loud noises. Captain Drake himself bore the deepest frown, glowering at the viewscreen as he was.

A small upswing to the mood came from Lt. Commander Zai waving to her, a small smile on his lips. Since their meeting a week ago, the busyness of getting the ship working order for launch had kept the two from making more than small talk at the mess hall and in passing, but it came as no surprise to Zhay-la that the Trill would make an effort to welcome her today.

Her first launch day as Chief Tactical Officer. If only her father could see her now.

Returning the wave with a nod of her own, it took Zhay-la a moment of forceful rememberance to not B-line for her spot at the commander's side. It had been her posting for the past five years at Arentzen's side - even on the Calypso as Sec Chief - and her first instinct was to return to habit, but Zhay-la had a small thrill at realizing she had her own console to man this morning.

Well, had Lt.jg. Reid not been assigned to Tactical this morning.

Zhay-la made do with standing at attention to the side of the console, giving the ATAC room to man the systems he knew better than her anyways. Running diagnostics the day before had gone smoothly, no doubt it'd be the same today, and so it was that Zhay-la need only stand and look imposing for her first launch. 

That didn't keep the lilt off her lips, at any rate.

She did manage to sober up for the incoming transmission from Starfleet Command, and the following message from Admiral Harding. Zhay-la needed to swallow past a lump of disappointment at said Admiral not being Arentzen, but then again, she couldn't expect a handhold on every occasion - not that her pride would allow any more, that is.

With a small bit of life, albeit annoyed, pumped into the bridge with their mission, Captain Drake gave the go-ahead to head for the Calican system. Zhay-la felt a tingle go up her spine at the bleeding of stars into lines as they entered warp six, and she only released her breath after the jump had been completed.

Indeed, if only her father could see her now.

Stardate 2365-05-05

USS Peregrine; Deck 2 - XO’s Office - 1345

A dispirited sigh whispered across Tochi’s lips when he stabbed a finger at the litany of reports scrolling across the console set in his desk. The computer chirruped in acknowledgement and brought the crew manifest into focus. A heavier sigh escaped the Trill, then, and, even as his gaze lingered on Peregrine’s updated roster, he slumped back in his seat and shoved his hands through his coffee-colored hair before allowing his fingers to rub at his spotted temples.

“Wonderful,” he murmured, mildly overwhelmed by the sheer number of new names that appeared, “Just what we were hoping to avoid. I’m not sure I’m entirely ready to throw myself back into that part of our job.”

Crew turnover was part and parcel on any Starfleet vessel, of course, and Peregrine had seen her fair share in the time he had served as her Executive Officer. In all but a few of those cases, he had approached it as ‘business as usual,’ with no compunction about seeking out the new faces, introducing himself, and welcoming them aboard. This time was different, though. This time he would be welcoming replacements for friends and colleagues who had lost their lives in Operation: Veiled Chimera, not ones who had simply retired or transferred to a new posting. For the first time he could recall in his tenure as XO, the thoughts of welcoming new crewmates hurt his heart and it certainly wasn’t a thing he was looking forward to doing… especially where Sciences was concerned.

“So, we don’t start with Sciences,” he chastised himself, pointedly ignoring the name that had replaced Asovil’s on the roster, “This is still our job and we can’t let our feelings interfere with function, can we?” The flick of a cool finger on the console dismissed the SCI roster and took him to TAC and, heading that list, a name that coaxed a plethora of Odia’s memories to scratch at his mind.

“Lt Zhay-la Zha’von Taissud,” Tochi read, leaning forward and spiking a curious brow, “That sounds like an Orion name. We weren’t aware that there were any Orions in Starfleet.” He tapped the name, opening the new CTO’s service record, and confirmed that the new CTO was, in fact, an Orion. “Huh… Interesting.”

He gave the dossier a quick once-over, taking note of several entries that, beyond her species, might make good talking-points for an introductory meeting. When he had finished, he dismissed the screen with the tap of a finger and rose from his seat. “Given the circumstances, I suppose starting with the most curious roster entry is a good place to start,” he mused, straightening his tunic as he rounded his desk. “Computer: Locate Lt Taissud.”

=/\=Lt Taissud is on the Phaser Range. Deck 5.=/\=

“Of course she is,” Tochi smirked, striding through his office door and into the corridor, “That Orion aggressiveness and such…”

Deck 5 - Security Department; Phaser Range - 1354

The door to the phaser range whisked away and Commander Zai was greeted with the scene of what appeared to be a small-arms qualification drill for the entirety of the Security contingent. Four men, armed with standard issue phasers, stood on the active platform, firing at holographic targets as they appeared. The remainder of the SEC forces, also separated into groups of four, lined the walls away from the platform, watching as their new Chief walked the perimeter, apparently scrutinizing every move that their compatriots made...

“You,” the hooded woman called, a long, accusatory, emerald-green finger pointing at Crewman Galla, “You are not leading your target enough! This is why you miss! You must aim a nanosecond ahead of where you expect to strike to be effective!”

“Yes, sir,” Galla acknowledged, his shoulders slumping almost imperceptibly just before he readied himself for the next wave of targets, “I’m trying.”

“Try harder,” Lt Taissud suggested, as she continued her prowling path around the platform, “Do better.”

...The Orion woman went on to make three more circuits around the phaser platform before the program ended and, only then, it seemed, did she take notice of the Trill who stood, patiently observing, by the range’s door. When her eyes met his, he offered a faint nod and a curiously disarming smile. As Galla and his group climbed down from the platform, Lt Taissud called out for the next team to make ready and, quickly noting the Lt Commander’s pips on the Trill’s collar, returned the man’s nod before abandoning the circle she had been pacing to make her way closer.

“Good afternoon, Lieutenant,” Tochi said as she drew closer, “Please, don’t let me interrupt.”.

The tunnel vision that overtook Zhay-la in the middle of training abated at the sight of the Trill in senior officer pips. Executive Officer even, she noted, and approached after a customary nod.

“You’re interrupting nothing more than assessment, sir,” she offered. “Intermingling the new transfers and familiarizing myself with the established officers so that I know what I have to work with.” Coming to a stop beside the XO, arms crossed behind her, feet spread, Zhay-la regarded him. “May I be of use while they put more holes in the range than the target?”

Tochi chuckled at that, his gaze flitting from Zhay-la’s face to the assembled security officers and back again. “Go easy on them, at first, Lieutenant,” he said from behind a smile tinged, it seemed, with a modicum of sadness, “Those who aren’t new transfers have been in quarantine for the past couple of months, after all. It may take a few days for them to get back up to speed.

As to being of use,” he continued, his eyes finding hers and the melancholy melting from his grin, “it seems as if you are doing just that already. We simply wanted to stop by, welcome you aboard, and introduce myself.” He extended a hand, then; “I’m Lt Commander Zai; the Peregrine’s Executive Officer. You’re finding everything acceptable, thus far, we hope?”

Ah, Trill, Zhay-la noted finally, glancing between the scales on his temples and the XO’s outstretched hand. “A pleasure, Lieutenant Commander,” she greeted, giving his hand a firm squeeze. “The Peregrine and her crew do not disappoint. In truth, I’m surprised at the resiliency of it all.”

At her assessment, a sense of pride swelled in the Trill’s chest and seeped, too, into his grin. “She is a tough little ship,” he acknowledged with a nod. He released her hand, mildly curious about the faint, tingling itch that the handshake had left on his palm, and gestured to the crew members she had assembled on the range; “Her people make her all the more so, of course.”

“I did mean her people, sir,” Zhay-la amended. Surveying her subordinates, the Orion had a flutter of uncertain hope. “In the wake of the Peregrine’s last mission, I was expecting more changes needing to be made. Might help that there is some new life being pumped in with all the transfers.”

“Mmm,” the mention of Chimera erased the smile from Tochi’s face and, for a flickering instant, cast his eyes deckward. “Yes,” he concurred, “that mission certainly took a toll on us all.” His gaze lifted from the floor, then, and swept the expanse of the range, taking in the familiar faces along with the new, before returning, again, to the Orion woman standing beside him. “We have come to learn, in our years on board, that Peregrine’s crew is just as tenacious and resilient as she is,” he offered, a somewhat sadder smile returning to his lips, “Whether that’s something that the ship brings out in them or something they bring out in the ship, though, I have yet managed to determine.” His smile brightened a bit, then, causing his green-gold eyes to sparkle a bit as a soft chuckle escaped him; “Perhaps, with so many new additions to the roster, we’ll finally find out, hm?”

Zhay-la studied the look on Tochi’s face, parsing that mentioning the USS Serapis onwards would be a bad idea. At his returned optimism, she offers a small smile of her own. “I’ve found that it’s often the people around you that brings out the best, rather than decks and consoles.”

“Quite,” Tochi said, nodding appreciatively at her observation, “Here’s to the hope that that trend continues and we all continue to bring out the best in one another, yes?”

Another chuckle, more mirthful than his last, blew past the XO’s lips, then, and, as he clasped his hands behind his back, he tilted his head in the direction of the assembled crew. “It would seem I’ve interrupted you in the midst of doing that very thing, Lieutenant,” he mused, “Perhaps we should let you get back to it and save this ‘getting to know you’ routine of mine for another time?”

“Unnecessary,” Zhay-la countered. “I was about to rotate in the third squad and hand things over to Lieutenant Reid.” Nodding to the aforementioned man, Zhay-la gave the saluting officers a nod in return as she made for the door. “Care to walk me to my office?”

“It would be our pleasure,” Zai returned, falling into step beside the woman and putting the Phaser Range behind them. When the hatch had hissed shut in their wake, Tochi glanced at Zhay-la, regarding her with a sheepish smile that served to only marginally mask the curiosity he felt in regard to her. Though he was genuinely interested, he imagined that asking what it was like to be the only member of her species to serve in Starfleet might be bad form, so, instead, he began; “Your service record is quite a read, Zhay-la… may I call you Zhay-la?...”

An eyebrow arched at the informality of her name, then furrowed at the mention of her service record. Here we go, she steeled herself, lips pressing together before she looks the XO in the eye for this. “My service record is sealed for all save the highest ranked officers, which includes yourself and Captain Drake, and for good reason. Yes, I’m an Orion, the only one currently on active duty in Starfleet, and I’d say it’s in the interest of this venture for racial inclusion that my service record remain a ‘good read’ you and the captain giggle amongst yourselves about.”

She took another step forward, vibrating a bit with annoyance, but then added, “And Zhay-la is fine, sir.”

Well, it didn’t take long to stoke that Orion aggression, did it?

The Trill’s eyes widened in the face of the woman’s apparent aggravation with his comment and his hand went up in hopes of forestalling any further stoking of her ire at the subject. “Whoa! We meant no offence, Lieutenant,” he offered with sincerity, “nor did I mean to imply that anything in your jacket was a source of amusement for the Captain, myself, or anyone else. I only intended to suggest that, of all the dossiers that have come across my desk, yours is far from what we have come to regard as ‘standard.’ If I offended you, I do apologize.”

He offered what he hoped was a placating smile, then, and the hand he had raised to avert her irritation went to his chest; “And, thank you, Zhay-la; I’m Tochi.”

A breath loosed from Zhay-la’s mouth, and she pinched the bridge of her nose. “My apologies, Lieutenant Commander. You were trying to make conversation and I jumped down your throat.” She looked into his eyes, sincerely hoping she was coming across as apologetic here, rather than the anger she was feeling inside. “I’ve simply seen enough of Starfleet’s attitude of my people to have decided that preempting comments and discussion is prudent.”

“Understandable,” Zai responded, “and, perhaps, I should have considered that before I chose my words.” He felt as if he should rest a reassuring hand on Zhay-la’s shoulder, here, but, given her reaction to his initial ice-breaker, he was more than a little tentative about doing so… at least, at first.

“Listen,” he continued gently, “we know what it’s like to be the subject of whispered conversations and skeptical speculation - and this from my own people - far be it from me to knowingly subject anyone else to such things. As the XO, it’s part of my job to know every name and face on this ship, but familiarity with names and faces only scratches the surface of what I need to be truly effective in bringing all of us together as a crew… as a family. A name and a face is a good start, Zhay-la, but, in the end, we need to know the person behind them both and that is the reason that I do these meet and greets with all new crew.”

He realized, then, that, despite his initial reluctance to do so, his hand had come to rest on her shoulder and had begun to usher them back into step toward the CTO’s office. “I am not here to judge you, Lieutenant,” he offered as he let his hand fall, first to his side and, then, to be clasped in the other behind his back, “on your species, on your past, or anything else than what you bring to this boat. I’m here because I want to get to know you, nothing more.”

Zhay-la spent a moment studying Tochi - first to assess how best to dislocate his wrist, as he reached towards her shoulder; then his face, scrutinizing his intent - and decided that had she been ten years younger, she would have used her pheromones on him ten minutes earlier and left him dead in a broom closet afterwards. But, with a decade of service and two pips attached to her collar, it’s easier for Zhay-la to take a breath and allow the contact, falling into step with the Trill once more. “Unfortunate that any such prejudice should exist, most of all amongst your fellows.” She pondered the lights above her for a moment. “And Starfleet has not been all bad for me, so I yet hold onto hope for the Peregrine and her crew being another positive. Especially with an XO so clearly attentive to his subordinates,” she jested, winking at Tochi.

He blinked when she winked at him and, then, smiled somewhat awkwardly as his spots went purple. He forced his eyes away from hers and cleared his throat. “Someone once said that it requires less mental effort to condemn than to think,” he said as they neared the doorway to her office, “and there is nothing more frightening than ignorance in action. To that end, I’ll hold onto that hope with you and ask that, should it ever be otherwise, you let me know.”

Curious, she thought, glancing at his darkening scales and cheeks. A small smirk came to her lips, hid behind her hand as she cleared her throat. “Wise words,” she commented, coming to stand in front of Tochi in her office doorway. “I’ll be certain to report any comparison to human fantasy ‘orcs’ I receive.” Then she added, “After I break their wrists.”

With a smile and a slight squeeze to his upper arm, Zhay-la entered her office. As she settled behind her desk, setting about organizing data pads and remaining boxes, she found herself continuing to smile. An odd, somewhat charged encounter with a senior officer she was no stranger to - her reprimands record proved that - but nevertheless, Lt. Commander Zai at least seemed… interesting.

After I break their wrists… Tochi couldn’t help but chuckle at that. His… well, Odia’s (and possibly Dirven’s)... experience with Orions had already led him to believe that such a measure was possible, if not to be entirely expected. The old trader’s memories considered, though, and despite his own amusement at the proposition, the Trill felt, for some reason, the need to say; “Before you physically damage someone, please come and see me first. We’re a small hip, after all, and every hand counts.” He gestured, then, to an empty seat on his side of the desk; “May I?”

Zhay-la gestured to the seat with a stack of paperwork. “If you don’t mind rustling boxes, be my guest, sir.”

He cleared the seat of the box that occupied it, setting the thing atop another that sat beside the chair before settling in. “So,” the XO grinned, leaning back in the chair as he watched the CTO perch herself in her own seat, “you’ve made it fairly clear that you don’t wish to discuss your past or your service record. To that end, Lieutenant, what do we talk about? Tell us something that might help me get to know Zhay-la Zha’von Taissud without broaching any forbidden topics.”

Returning the grin, Zhay-la steepled her fingers in front of her and leaned her mouth against them, hiding her smirk as she said, “I know sixteen different ways to kill with a chair. Would that be of interest to you?”

She gave the Trill only a second to become mildly worried before laughing. “I suppose that’d be a bit close to a ‘forbidden topic,’ though.” She pondered for a moment, then offered, “My favourite colour is purple.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief and challenge, waiting for Tochi’s response.

He chuckled at the “16 ways to kill with a chair” quip even though, somehow, he imagined she might be quite serious about it given the ‘forbidden topic’ comment that followed. If he hadn’t been curious about the redacted portions of her record before, he was definitely wondering about them, now. Tochi leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together, and grinned at Zhay-la; “Purple, is it? We tend to lean more toward blue, myself.” His grin turned somewhat roguish, then. “How do you feel about puppies, sunsets, and long walks on the beach?”

Zhay-la leaned forward herself, awkwardly, amongst the boxes and wrapping paper surrounding her. “Puppies are a nuisance; old dogs are much better companions,” she listed teasingly. “Sunsets are best on Rigel V, and long walks on the beach are best done in a holodeck, as I hate sand between my toes.”

“Duly noted,” the Trill laughed, “and what about feather apes or, say, unicorns?”

“Suitable for a little girl’s room,” she returned, setting about unpacking a box. “Now, how about a real conversation topic. How did you come to serve in Starfleet?”

There we go, Tochi thought, pleased that his nonsense talk had brought the Orion woman around to broaching the subjects he was truly looking to open, and, if we have to go first, so be it.

“By the standard means for we fly-boy types, I suppose,” he answered, settling back in the chair again, his eyes following her as she continued her unpacking. “My mother likes to say that I wanted to fly before I could even walk and I was always the curious and adventurous sort as a kid. I suppose I saw Starfleet as a means to an end, in that regard. You know, join the fleet, fly starships and explore the galaxy; what’s not to love about that?

Anyway, I threw myself into studying Flight Engineering and Astrophysics at the Science Ministry back home and, when I turned fourteen, I submitted my first application to the Academy. I failed my first exam, of course - too young, too rambunctious, not enough focus, that sort of thing - but, determined as I was, I poured myself into my studies, retook the exam a few weeks later, and passed,” he shrugged and offered a faint smirk, “I won’t say ‘with flying colors,’ as I’m sure that wasn’t the case. My scores were good enough to get accepted, though, and, soon enough, I was on a transport to Earth. Goodbye, Trill; hello, Starfleet Academy.

If you were to ask some people,” he continued, “They’d tell you that I had a bit of a stormy tenure at the Academy. I was a bit of a rabble-rouser in those days and Eric Thorson, a classmate of mine, was all too happy to encourage and join me on my more rebellious escapades. Troubled youth aside, however,  I somehow managed to earn Premier Distinctions in Advanced Nav, Flight Control, and Subspace Geometry. Graduated in ‘52, took my first post as a shuttle pilot aboard the Perseus, and, two years later, found myself serving as her aFCO.”

Tochi offered a shrug, then. “Not much to it really,” he said, “If I recall your jacket correctly, you were graduating the Academy at around that same time, correct; in ‘54?”

“Good memory, Commander,” Zhay-la remarked. From the box she produced her collection of knives, unwrapping them carefully and looking over them for damage before she set about situating them on wall mounts. “Yes, I graduated from the Academy on Beta Ursae Minor II in ‘54.” She faced Tochi, resting her arms on the desk. “Afraid I haven’t any good anecdotes from my time there. Due to ‘extenuating circumstances,’ I was fast tracked for graduation. The Stalker was my first posting.”

Eyes studying the Trill’s face for a moment, Zhay-la debated a moment before deciding to push with her curiosity. “Sounds as though you’ve been on the up-and-up since Academy days, sir. A pretty straight shot from pilot to XO.”

“Not as straight a shot as one might imagine,” Tochi smirked, “I had a reputation as a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants type early on in my career. Command wasn’t exactly impressed and, as such, I held on to my Ensign’s pip a bit longer than I probably should have.”

“Hardly something to be ashamed of,” Zhay-la offered, surprising herself with the sincerity and kindness of the statement. “Not everyone’s career in Starfleet is as seamless as the Academy tells you it ought to be, trust me.”

The Trill nodded his agreement with her assessment and, along with the nod, offered a grin and a faint shrug. “We did manage to finally pin on our Junior Grade toward the end of that year, though,” he continued, “We finished out my tour on the Perseus in ‘55 and was transferred to the shipyards at Utopia Planetia where I did a stint as a shakedown pilot on the Steamrunner project. Following that, there was a short tour as the AFCO aboard the Choctaw, and then it was back to the shipyards to put the Sabers through their paces. We took this very ship off the line and delivered it to Captain Drake when he was given his command, in fact, and we’ve been with her ever since.”

An eyebrow was raised at the apparent pride in Tochi’s voice at the mention of the Peregrine’s and his history. “Quite the attachment you must have to her then, sir,” she commented. “I can’t say I relate; I was reassigned to three different ships in as many years, then off chasing an admiral’s coattails on any serviceable vessel. The Calypso has thus far been my longest-lasting post, but even then, for how many away missions I lead, I don’t know if I spent more time aboard her or planetside.”

“The Peregrine is home,” Zai confirmed and then, almost wistfully, added, “and her crew is our family.”

He hauled himself out of the seat, then, his gaze panning over her collection of blades as he did so. “We’re happy to have added you to it, Zhay-la,” he said, his eyes returning to the CTO, “let’s hope we can keep you here longer than the Calypso, hm?

I suppose I’ve taken up enough of your time,” Tochi grinned, “It was a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant. We look forward to serving with you.”

“That’s the plan, sir,” Zhay-la stood, extending a hand towards the XO. “I shall see you on the deck at launch.”

“If not sooner,” he smiled, closing his cold fingers around the proffered hand and giving a firm shake, “Have a good day, Zhay-la.”

With that, Commander Zai took his leave and strode from her office. That didn’t go quite the way we imagined it might, he mused as the door whoosed closed behind him, There’s more mystery there, now, than there was before. Intriguing.

Within her office, Zhay-la settled back into her seat. She withdrew the dagger in a sheath on her forearm, contemplating the iridescent handle of her dancerknife for a moment. Strange, Zhay-la thought to herself. I didn’t want to punch this senior officer.

Stardate: 2365.05.14

USS Peregrine, Deck 5: Shuttle Bay 2 – Section M-13 – 9:00

Everyone’s watching, to see what you will do

Everyone’s looking at you, oh

Everyone’s wondering, will you come out tonight

Everybody’s working for the weekend

The song blared loudly in the headphones that Callie Kennedy wore as she padded down the corridor, nodding slightly at anyone who passed her.  It was Friday and Callie had Friday’s off, there were definite advantages to being the commander.  She was dressed in a pair of black cargo pants, a faded ‘Purple Floyd’ t-shirt from the cover band’s reunion tour back in 2350, and a grey cardigan sweater.  She had not bothered with putting on any makeup or jewelry, she had a personal mission today.  As she walked she paid close attention to the PADD in her hands, flipping through various schematics and blueprints that came up on it.  A little treasure she had run across on the computer in her office the other day. 

When she got to the shuttle bay doors she paused long enough to key her way into the bay.  The overhead lights came on automatically as she moved into the room, her destination was the far corner of the room where a large shape sat hunkered under a massive canvas tarp. 

Taking a final look at her PADD she finally set it down on a crate that was near the hidden shape.  She crossed her arms and took a long look at the shape.

“So… how far did they get on you?”  A bit of a smile touched her lips as she moved forward and started to tug on an edge of the canvas. 

The last three weeks had been grueling.  There had been enough small problems arising that she had kept busy while on duty.  The turbo lifts were still being touchy at times; Adler had figured out that the errors with the memory banks were due to a faulty relay, but fixing them had only caused more errors to pop up in the memory banks of other systems.  Off duty, though, there simply wasn’t enough to keep her occupied and the eerie quiet of the ship and her haunted crew was getting to her.  Which was why her interest was piqued when she accidentally found, while investigating the memory errors, a file on Thorson’s computer about something called the Aurora Angel.  A little reading, and a little probing around with her staff led her to the shuttle bay, where under the canvas lay a ship unlike anything she had ever seen before, a pet project of Cmdr. Zai and Thorson before his untimely death. 

Curiosity was getting the better of her. 

She tugged hard on the canvas and it began to give, slowly inch by inch it pulled away from the grey hull of the Angel until finally the canvas piled up at the nose of the ship and she could finally take her first look at it.  From out here it wasn’t much to look at. 

Lightly she walked around the ship, letting her fingers trace over the edges finding every rivet and seam. 

Revvin’ up your engine

Listen to her howlin’ roar

Metal under tension

Beggin’ you to touch and go

Highway to the danger zone

On her headphones a new song had come up and she smiled at the perfect timing. 

“Oh she’s begging me to touch and go indeed…” she muttered to herself.

Eventually her trail around the ship led to the cargo bay doors where she let herself in.  The first few compartments were interesting due to their modular design, they had been designed so that they could be swapped out for other modules easily depending on the mission.  But other than that they were not overly stunning.  It was when she stepped into the bridge that she stopped in her tracks and simply stared at the view before her.  For a moment she actually felt her breath get caught in her chest and she had to put her hand on the nearest console to steady herself. 

“Well **** me…” was all she could manage in a wispy breath.

She had read about Trill ship design, but had never seen it in person, and this was stunning.  To think that they had made this in their spare time in a shuttle bay...

“Impressive.” 

But after a few moments of gawking over the free-flowing space, her excitement took over and she began inspecting everything.  Occasionally she pulled out the PADD and referred to the plans for this ship and made some notations, but mostly she just drank it all in. 

Stardate: 2356.05.14

USS Peregrine, Shuttle Bay 2 – Aurora Angel – 10:30

=^=Commander Kennedy=^= her comm badge chimed up with Lt. Sa’eridon’s voice.

Kennedy at that moment was crouched under one of the consoles and sat up suddenly at the voice bashing her head into the edge.  She winced and put a hand to her head and then hit her comm badge with her other hand. 

=^=Go ahead Lieutenant=^=

=^=Sorry to bother you on your day off Commander.  I just thought that you would like to know that I was just contacted by the bridge.  Starfleet has a mission for us, finally.=^=

=^=It’s alright Lieutenant.  What are our orders?=^=

=^=We are heading to the Calican system in order to repair a navigation beacon at Gamma Four-Seven Sir.=^=

Kennedy stood still a moment and reconnected herself with the Peregrine, indeed they had moved into Warp.  She was a little amused that she had been so focused on the Angel that she had not felt the difference in the performance of the Peregrine earlier. 

=^=Is that all?=^=

=^=That’s all I have right now sir.  I’ll forward the full mission brief to you, but that’s the important bits.=^=

=^= Alright then.  Start pulling up specs for the beacon, make sure Toporov and McGivern get copies, they will be your best hands in helping out with this.  Get someone to clear some space in the shuttle bay or cargo hold, wherever, in case we need to bring it aboard to fix.  When will be arriving?=^=

=^=We should be arriving sometime tomorrow afternoon.  I’ll get on those specs sir.=^=

=^=You’ll be on duty then.  You should be able to handle it, but if something comes up don’t hesitate to get me.=^=

=^=Yes sir.=^=

The comm went silent and Kennedy mused a moment over her assistant Chief of Engineering.  The woman was a great engineer from what Kennedy had seen and had performed everything that had been asked of her.  However, there was a coolness to her, and their relationship had not gone beyond anything professional yet. 

A mission was good though, even if it was a rather simple task.  Kennedy suspected that the mission was more a test from Starfleet than anything else. 

Let’s see if the Peregrine is still up to doing actual work… well we’ll show them…   

She took a look around the cockpit that she stood in, considered the upcoming mission and smiled. 

“I think it’s time to have a real talk with that spotted XO…”

Stardate 2365.05.14
USS Peregrine; Bridge - 1445

The door of the turbolift didn’t so much shoosh open as stutter and SCPO Matthews had to hop rather than step from the lift onto the deck of the bridge in order to not get pinched by the glitching door. “Faelirh ch'susse-thrai,” she swore under her breath, casting a narrow-eyed glare back at the thing, “I thought they’d fixed that damn thing!” She made a mental note to contact Engineering to let them know that the lift glitches hadn’t been resolved as completely as they might have thought. Then, straightening her jacket and offering a respectful nod to the Captain, she strode purposefully toward the helm.

“Good afternoon, Commander,” she said as Tochi turned his eyes her way, “I stand ready to relieve you at the CONN, sir.”

“Good afternoon, Senior Chief,” the Trill replied from behind a cordial smile, “We hope you’re prepared for a thrilling shift of watching the stars streak by.” He gestured at the viewscreen, indicating the warped starfield there.

“Nothing I’d enjoy more, sir,” Lana returned, a faint smile playing on her lips as she glanced, first, at the indicated viewer and, then, at the CONN to check the nav display and engine status readouts.

“We’re en route to the Calican system,” Commander Zai informed her, “Warpfield, engines, and course are five by five. Aside from that, there’s little else to report, here.How are things on the flight deck?”

“Five by five there, as well, sir,” she answered, “The Bees are being primed for deployment and the Eights are on stand-by should they be necessary.”

“Excellent,” Tochi nodded, his fingers evoking a series of beeps from the console as he input her codes, “We suppose there’s nothing left to do, then, but put the helm in your hands and call it a shift.

She’s all yours, Mister Matthews,” the Trill rose from the seat and motioned for her to take his place, “Steady as she goes.”

“Aye, sir,” Lana grinned as she settled into place and set about configuring the consoles to her preference, “Steady as she goes it is.”

“Have a good shift,” he said, turning to make his way to the turbolift.

“I’ll do my best, sir,” she replied, “Enjoy your evening.”

Tochi had almost reached the lift when Lana remembered something else that she had intended to tell him. “Oh… Commander Zai?” she called to his back, prompting him to stop in his tracks and turn to face her, again, one brow raised inquisitively, “Commander Kennedy was in Bay Two, this morning, and spent a decent amount of time aboard the Angel.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, sir. I didn’t think you’d mind, so I left her to it, but I figured you should know.”

Tochi smiled and nodded appreciatively; “Good to know. Thank you, Lana.”

“You’re welcome, sir,” she replied and, with that, returned her attention to the CONN as Commander Zai turned on his heel and continued on his way.

“Deck Five,” Tochi said as the turbolift door closed smoothly behind him. 

=/\= Deck Five.=/\= The computer chirped in acknowledgment and set the lift in motion.

So, the new CEO has discovered the Angel, Tochi mused, I wonder what she thought of her.

USS Peregrine; Deck 5; The Aerie - 1510

As the doors opened to admit Commander Zai to The Aerie, Leah Finnley let out an audible squeak and scampered out from behind the bar. “Tochi!!!” she squealed, practically running across the floor to greet the Trill with a warm embrace; “It’s so good ta see ya, luv!”

On the other side of the bar another had noted the entrance of the XO, and kept him under the gaze of her hazel eyes as he spoke to the barmaid. 

“Hello, Leah,” Tochi chuckled, his spots going slightly purple at the woman’s unbridled display of affection. His arms went around her, though, and he returned the hug. “It’s good to see you, too,” he said, “We’ve been in a few times but it’s always been Natasha behind the bar; I was beginning to wonder if you were avoiding us.”

“Oh stop,” she giggled, playfully swatting at him as she let go of the embrace, “You know I’d never!” 

Her smile and her voice softened a bit when she noticed his gaze tick, briefly, toward that table and she reached out to touch one of his cold hands; “How are ya, Tochi-luv,” she queried, “I know it’s gotta’ve been hard given circumstances and all.”

The Trill offered a faint shake of his head and a genial smile. “I’m managing,” he answered, giving her hand a gentle squeeze, “It’s not something I’m quite ready to talk about, just yet, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Leah nodded understandingly and led him toward the bar, “When ya are, though, ya know I’ve always an ear for ya?”

“We do,” he smiled as her hand let go of his and she slipped back around to the business side of the counter, “and I appreciate it.”

“So,” she beamed, clapping her hands by way of dismissing that particular subject, “What’s it gonna be for ya, today, Toch? Are we havin’ dinner or...?”

“Let’s start with a whiskey and see where it goes, hm?”

From her seat across the room Kennedy felt a little touched by the warm greeting the XO had received, however she maintained the stoic countenance she had perfected for many years.  The commander was still dressed in her civilian attire and had taken over the bench seat under the large windows in the lounge.  She sat with her arms draped over the back and her legs stretched out on the seat, crossed at the ankles.  On the small table in front of her sat a glass filled with ice and a blue liquid, although it didn’t appear that she had touched it.  

Leah had set him up with a healthy pour of her best Irish whiskey and moved on to tend other customers, leaving Tochi free to finally turn and survey the expanse of the lounge. It wasn’t wasn’t terribly busy but there was a smattering of clientele scattered about; faces both long familiar and relatively new. Leaning casually against the bar, he exchanged courteous nods of greeting with several of the more familiar crew members as well as with a few of the newer ones. When he lifted his glass to his lips to take the first sip of his drink, he saw Commander Kennedy stretched out on a bench in front of one of the observation ports, her hand raised in greeting, at first, then a gesture of invitation to join her at her table. A cordial smile touched his lips as he pushed away from the bar and made his way across the floor to where she lounged beneath the window.

“Good afternoon, Callie,” the Trill grinned as he reached her table, “It is Callie, correct?” He hoped he was recalling her name properly. When he’d first introduced himself to the Engineering Chief on his round of meet and greets, he had only addressed her by her rank or surname.

“I answer to that.”  She gave him a non-committal shrug.  

“But it’s not your preference, we take it,” he inferred, setting his glass on the table and taking a seat, himself.

“You read my file…” another small shrug, “California.  Eugene.”  A sigh then, “It’s not like I have lots of great options here.  Callie works.  Kennedy is better.”  She leaned forward and picked up her own glass, leaned back and simply swirled the liquid around the glass. 

“Kennedy it is, then,” he acquiesced with a marginal nod, one hand falling to his drink and turning the glass slowly, “Feel free to call me Tochi, if you like.” He lifted the glass to his lips, then took a slow pull from it’s contents, and returned it to the table. 

His green-gold eyes slid past her, taking in the view beyond the window for an instant, before they framed her face, again. “We understand you spent some time in Shuttlebay Two, this morning,” he grinned impishly, turning the glass between his fingers, again, “Find anything interesting?”

For the briefest moment a smile tried to tug at the corner of her mouth, but she quickly wiped it away.  “Yeah…” she frowned and sighed.  “Someone parked some space trash in there, taking up a lot of room.”  Her own gaze shifted to the blue liquid she kept swirling, but not drinking, in the glass.  “Should I have asked permission before poking around?”  

“Maybe so,” he answered, his tone full of feigned indignance, “Especially if you’re going to refer to her as space trash.” He flicked her a playful wink, then, and chuckled as his finger chased a bead of condensation along the rim of his glass.

Finally Kennedy let her eyes fully meet his and spoke with pointed dryness.  “She’s incredible.”  She licked her lips momentarily and then continued.  “It doesn’t look like you’ve done much with her since…” she let that trail off.  “What are your intentions towards her?”  

“Thank you,” he said, reclining in his seat a bit and taking his glass with him. He tipped it to his lips, again, and sighed softly as it came away. “There’s not been much time to work on her... since then,” he admitted, gazing into the amber depths of his drink, “We’re hoping to find a few spare moments here and there to get back to it, though.” His eyes ticked to the warp-streaked vista beyond the window, again, before finding their way back to Kennedy’s and, when they did, his shoulders lifted in a scant shrug. “She’s spaceworthy, at any rate, so I suppose it’s just a matter of getting the remainder of her systems installed and tuned, then buttoning up the interior.”

“Well…” she sat up fully now, swinging her legs down as she set the glass down, a little too hard as the liquid sloshed out a little, she paid it no mind though.  Instead she reached for the PADD she had stashed in the cushions on the bench and put it on the table, immediately flitting her fingers across the front to open up her notes.  “Not quite… see I noticed that you have the intake vents set up for atmospheric and interstellar travel, but the blast shields on the starboard side are installed wrong, you’re going to burn a hole in the side of the ship as soon as you try reentry into an atmosphere.  And… you see here…” she starts tapping away at the PADD again and then stops.  She flushes a little bit and raises her eyes up to him.  “I’m getting ahead of myself.” 

Biting her lip she sits back up and pulls her attention from the PADD.  “Please let me work on her with you.  I need something to do around here, and she’s… **** she’s what I need right now.”  The look in her eyes is just short of love, for the ship, not the man across the table.  

“Well, frill me running,” he huffed when she pointed out the mistake with the starboard blast shield, “How did I miss that?” He only caught a fleeting glimpse of her other notes before she stopped tapping away at the PADD but it seemed she had quite a list compiled. 

His brows raised a bit at Kennedy’s impassioned plea to be allowed to work on the Aurora Angel, then, and he smiled brightly. “She has been without an engineer of your caliber since…” the smile faded slightly but didn’t truly disappear, “...since we lost Eric.” He tipped his glass, again, swallowed, and returned it to the table. “Given what we just saw of your notes, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have giving her some TLC.”

She caught the look in his eyes at the mention of Eric, and this was what she had been dreading, that perhaps those memories were still too painful.  She had seen his file and knew the two had gone back a long time.  I know I’m not Thorson… but please…  As soon as he gave her a positive response though, she practically beamed with the brightest smile she’d put on since boarding this ship.

Leah appeared at the table, then, a bar-towel in one hand and a bottle of the Irish in the other. “Bless me if this don’t bring back some memories,” she smiled, wiping up Kennedy’s spill, “The fly-boy and the grease-monkey hoverin’ over ship schematics an’ makin’ a mess of my tables. Next thing ya know, the two of ya’ll be playin’ cards and spillin’ mead on my bloomin’ floors.”

Tochi blinked and a somewhat wistful expression wafted across his features as he turned his eyes to Leah and then to Kennedy. Huh, he mused, a soft chuckle escaping him as the familiarity of all of this actually struck him, I suppose that hadn’t occurred to me.

Kennedy laughed and shook her head.  “Nah… I don’t like the commander, just his ship.  Although I’ll do whatever I have to to work on it, except lose at cards…”  she gave him a small wink. 

“Don’t let your mouth spend credits that your ass can’t cash, there, Kennedy,” Tochi chuckled.

“Ya want another, Tochi-luv?” Leah grinned, draping the towel over her shoulder, now, and waggling the bottle she carried at him, “Yer lookin’ a wee bit low, there.”

“Sure,” the Trill nodded, sliding his glass closer to her, “We’ll have a top off. Thank you.”

“Always a pleasure,” Leah cooed, refilling his glass and then turning her gaze to Kennedy. “Anythin’ else for you, deary?”

“For me?”  She shook her head.  I think my head is swimming enough already.  “No I’m good for  now.”  She glanced at the still mostly full glass.  “Thanks though.”  

“Right then,” Leah chirped, sauntering away, “I’ll leave the two of ya to it, then.”

She turned back to Tochi.  “Cards later… right now you have issues with these conduits sitting too close to the propulsion system…” and she got the PADD lit back up as she let him gander over the copious notes she had taken earlier in the day.  “I believe we are both off the duty roster tomorrow, if you don’t have other plans… sir.”  

“Tochi,” he reiterated at the use of the word sir. That roguish grin pulled at his lips, again, and he lifted his refreshed glass, draining away half of its contents in a single pull, this time. Wincing at the burn of it in his throat, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and cradling the glass between both his hands as he looked over the notes she had pulled up on her PADD. “I believe we’re both off the duty roster, right now,” he grinned meaningfully, inclining his head vaguely in the direction of the Aerie’s doors, “Unless you’ve got something better to do with the rest of your evening?”

Kennedy grinned and stood up, grabbing her PADD and tucking it under her arm.  “Not at all…”  She turned to Leah then, “We’ll take one of those bottles to go if that’s alright…” 

“What,” Leah called from behind the bar, her eyes twinkling mischievously as the settled on Tochi, “did that spotted scoundrel already polish off th’ last one he pilfered?”

The Trill’s spots flushed faintly purple, again, and he was chuckling as he got to his feet and polished off the dregs in his glass. “Only just cracked it open, Leah,” he assured her as he crossed the floor and returned his and Kennedy’s cups, “We’ll be alright.”

“Good on ya, then,” the barmaid winked, dragging the glasses from the counter and stowing them somewhere out of sight, “You kids go play an’ let Mother get her cleanin’ done.”

Tochi turned back to the engineer, then, and gestured toward the door. “Shake a tail feather, Eugene,” he teased, “we’ve got knuckles to scrape.”

“Yes SIR…” she glared at him as they passed through the door, although there was still a bit of a smile on her lips.  

Stardate 2365.04.25; 08:30

USS Peregrine; Deck 5 – Security

The torbo lift came to a stop, the door whooshed open, John stepped out into the passage way and headed to the security section. As he walked he noting on his PADD that the lift system still required several attempts to voice activate.

He had returned to duty as soon as he was released from quarantine. With a new CTO assigned and arriving soon he wanted to be sure all was ready for their arrival. There was also the transfer of personal effects of not only Lt. Tas but those of the six crew that had lost their life defending the ship.

Being back on Peregrine was both a blessing and a curse. The months in quarantine had only given him time to dwell on the scenes of death and destruction that had gripped the ship and crew.

Kampakis, Rotet and Wren had died defending the ship’s armory. Had they not held that ground the death toll from the weapons lock away behind that door would have been far greater much quicker.

Forb and Brady had died defended the bridge and Aft torpedo launcher. Whether the madness had started to affect them will never be known, only their devotion to duty.

John himself had entered the ward room to the sight of Lt. Tas’s bloody beaten body slumped over a com. Crewman Myers lay half covering her where he had attempted shield her from a maddened attacker, his own skull crushed from the chair that lay beside them.

Kara  had been working the com to patch data to Lieutenant Asovil Sh'iralonas as she worked to find the cause and cure for what was affecting the ship and crew. The haptic interface the CTO had from the haptic glove and the display lenses in her eyes had allowed her search ship systems to help discover the nanites by the rapid changes they were causing to the ship’s programs and equipment. Lieutenant Sh'iralonas had pieced together what was happening and discovered it was also what was effecting the crew, leading her to develop an antivirus. But the virus drove a paranoia and suspicion in some to believe Tas and her digital implants were the cause of ship malfunctions and so she was hunted down.  

Nearly half of the security team had been lost doing their job and being in harm’s way to save the ship and what crew they could.

John had known that Captain Drake would take on the reasonability to write each and ever of the twenty sever crew member’s families to express his sincere condolences for their loses, but for the last nine months John had worked with and taught the six crew members under his charge as ACTO. He had come to know each of them more closely than the Captain, he felt it his duty to write their families.

“Dear Mrs. Wren, I know my words can never replace..”

“Dear Mrs. Wren, I wanted you to know the honor it was to serve with Amy….’

Over and over John started and erased to words.

“ Dear Mrs. Kampakis,….”

“Dear Mrs. Myers,…’

“Dear Mrs. Brady,…”

“To the family of Larb Groven Forb…”

“To the family of Salia Rotet,…”

John had never known such a soul shaking grief.  The harder he tried to find the right words the more awkward and fake it had felt. For a month he struggled. In the end he still wasn’t satisfied; he only hoped he would never become good at it.

Stardate Undetermined
USS Peregrine;  Deck 5, The Aerie

“You are staring again,” Asovil admonished, the blue skin of her cheeks flushing to a deeper shade as her sapphire eyes dipped to the scarcely touched plate before her.

“I’m sorry,” Tochi purred, his hand propping up his chin above his similarly untouched plate as he gazed, utterly infatuated, across the table at her, “You’re just so beautiful and I’ve come to look very forward to these times together over the past few weeks. I’m not sure that I can resist kissing you for much longer.”

“I’m not sure that that is entirely appropriate, Commander,” she tittered, her gaze flicking nervously about the sea of undefined faces that surrounded them. She didn’t look up so much as she peered at him from beneath her perfectly sculpted silver brows as she demurred: “There are so many people watching. What might they say? What might the Captain say if he hears…”

Sighing softly, Tochi reached across the table and brushed a stray shock of her hair back behind her ear. “I honestly don’t give a damn what any of them might think or say,” he assured her, his fingers tracing delicately along her cheek and then her jaw as he reluctantly… slowly... withdrew his hand, “I’ve been watching those lips for weeks, Asovil, and if I could taste them just once, I’m sure I could die a happy man.”

“Stop!” the Andorian beauty breathed, the apples of her cheeks darkening enough to almost match the hue of her eyes which, in her embarrassment, had fallen to regard the featureless surface of the table. “I don’t… I… don’t…know if...”

“If you want me to kiss you,” Tochi veritably purred the query, reaching across the table, again, to place his fingers tenderly beneath her chin and coax her face up so that he might look into her eyes.

“No,” she whispered, her breath hitching, “I do… want you to, I mean… but… here?”

He was sure he could feel the thudding of her heart against the cool tips of his fingers where the met the graceful curve of her neck and he knew he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself much longer. “Here,” he whispered, leaning purposely closer, “In the corridor outside. In your quarters or mine. I don’t care. I’m going to kiss you very soon, Lieutenant, and if you want to stop me, I’m afraid you’re going to have to stun or kill me… and I don’t see a phaser anywhere within reach.”

“Oh…” Her breath shuddered past her lips and, perhaps involuntarily, the tip of her tongue danced over them in the wake of that breath. “...Ummm…”

Suddenly, both of Tochi’s hands had her face cupped between them and he had risen from his seat, leaned across the table, and pressed his lips to hers. It was a gentle, tender kiss, to begin with, but, as she overcame her initial shock and began to reciprocate, it became almost hungry… and most definitely passionate. Both Tochi and Asovil’s eyes had been goaded shut as their lips met and, as the kiss deepened and their tongues began dancing with one another, a soft moan escaped one or both of them.

When the weight of Asovil’s face diminished between his hands, though, Tochi couldn’t help but let his eyelids lose their weight, too, and, as his eyes came open he watched in abject horror as she disintegrated; turning to motes of drifting motes of blue-black dust that settled in a thick layer on his fingers and lips.

“No,” he choked, desperately trying to reform that dust into the beautiful blushing blue face he so longed to see, “NO! Please…PLEASE...”

Stardate 2365.05.15
USS Peregrine; Deck 2, LtCmdr Zai’s quarters - 0337

“Noooo!”

He woke screaming, his heart pounding in his chest and soaked in a cold sweat. In the frantic moments it took Tochi to realize that the dream was just that, he had thrown himself from the bed, clutched at his pounding heart with one hand and found himself staring in disbelief at the other, the taste of ash thick on his tongue.

“F***,” he chuffed, foregoing the less offensive Trill version of the expletive in favor of the weightier Terran English translation. The one hand remained at his chest, trying to steady the racing rhythm of his heart, while the other went to his face to swab away the tears that had streamed down his cheeks and, futily, tried to scrub the taste of ash from his mouth. “F***,” he repeated, his knees threatening to buckle beneath him as he staggered toward the bathroom adjoining his sleeping chamber.

He propped himself up over the sink and, for a long moment, fighting the urge to throw up. Once he managed to slow his heart rate, he spit into the sink to rid himself of the bitter ashen taste that yet lingered there, and slowly, lifted his gaze to study the reflection that stared back at him from the narrow rectangular mirror. His red-rimmed eyes were underscored with dark circles and cold beads of sweat still streaked along his temples. This has got to stop, he told himself, It’s been months, now, of the same nightmare! We’ve got to get a hold of ourself… She’s gone… That’s not going to change…

“She’s gone,” he muttered aloud, lifting a hand to press his eyeballs into his skull and pinch at the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stifle the sob that threatened to break free of his chest. “F***!”

Spitting the taste of ash from his mouth, again, Tochi cranked the cold water tap open and splashed his face several times before shutting off the tap and toweling off the excess moisture. “Computer,” he called, both hands gripping the edge of the counter to keep him propped over the sink, “Time?”

=/\= The time is Oh-Three Hundred hours and forty-three minutes.=/\=

“Current status of the holodeck and gymnasium?” He pressed.

=/\=The Holodeck is currently unoccupied,=/\= The computer’s synthesized voice answered. =/\=Occupancy of the gymnasium is negligible.=/\=

“Reserve us a slot on the holodeck from 0400 to 0530,” Tochi ordered, then, pushing away from the sink and padding back into his bedroom, “Select a program from catalogue Zai Delta Seven; difficulty level, challenging.”

=/\=Holodeck confirms, reserved for Lieutenant Commander Zai from Zero-Four-Hundred to Zero-Five-Thirty. Program selection pending.=/\=

The Trill nodded as he stripped down, redressed in his PT gear, then gathered up his rapier and the rest of his fencing kit. Moments later, his gear stowed in a duffel slung over one shoulder, Tochi emerged from his quarters and made his way toward Deck Five in hopes of alleviating some aggression before too much of the day crew awakened to take on the new day.

Stardate: 2365.05.14

USS Peregrine, Engineering – 10:45

On the console in front of Lt. Sa’eridon several red lights were still blinking.  The original error code concerning the memory bank had finally cleared, only to open a path for a slew of others to pop up.  A low growl and a brief utterance of her native language slipped out of her mouth as she stared down at the lights.  Already she could feel the pinch at the back of her skull that would blossom into a headache.  She brought her finger pad up from the console and rubbed at her temple, hoping that the motion would drive the pinching away.  It didn’t work.  

She knew that she should reach out to Crewman Adler for help on this.  The computer systems were his specialty and it was his earlier suggestion that had helped clear out the first error messages.  Reaching out to Adler, though, meant speaking to him directly, something she was not excited to do.  For the past three months she had done her best to avoid any direct contact with Adler, and it had mostly worked.  

In the beginning things were simply too crazy to even consider having a real conversation, and the few times he had managed to get her attention and had tried desperately to thank her she had brushed him off.  During quarantine it had been all too easy to feign resting or a counseling session to avoid him, and on the Starbase while repairs were being done she could go to a base technician for assistance and Lincoln got lost in the chaos.  But now they were out here with very little places to hide.  She frowned deeply and shook her head trying to dislodge the memories out of her mind, it worked as well as rubbing her temples had helped her headache.  

Instead the red lights kept blinking at her, almost nonsensically.  

=^=Message from the Bridge=^= The computer chimed at her and took her attention from the errors.  

Blinking she nodded and then answered the talking machine.  “Yes, send it through to my console, I’ll take it.”  

The error messages disappeared, and a memo appeared on her screen.  She read through it and then tapped her comm badge.

=^=Commander Kennedy=^= 

There was a brief pause and Karri questioned whether or not she should be bothering the commander on her day off with such trivial information, but then the response came through.

=^=Go ahead Lieutenant=^=

=^=Sorry to bother you on your day off Commander.  I just thought that you would like to know that I was just contacted by the bridge.  Starfleet has a mission for us, finally.=^=

=^=It’s alright Lieutenant.  What are our orders?=^=

=^=We are heading to the Calican system in order to repair a navigation beacon at Gamma Four-Seven Sir.=^=

=^=Is that all?=^=

Karri winced I knew it, I shouldn’t have bothered her.

=^=That’s all I have right now sir.  I’ll forward the full mission brief to you, but that’s the important bits.=^=

=^= Alright then.  Start pulling up specs for the beacon, make sure Toporov and McGivern get copies, they will be your best hands in helping out with this.  Get someone to clear some space in the shuttle bay or cargo hold, wherever, in case we need to bring it aboard to fix.  When will be arriving?=^=

=^=We should be arriving sometime tomorrow afternoon.  I’ll get on those specs sir.=^=

=^=You’ll be on duty then.  You should be able to handle it, but if something comes up don’t hesitate to get me.=^=

=^=Yes sir.=^=

Well at least Kennedy hadn’t yelled at her.  So far the new commander had appeared to be very level headed and professional, which she did appreciate.  Tomorrow, though, would be a real test of Karri’s ability to act as aCEO.

Karri nodded to herself  and bent back over the console, she let the error messages continue to blink as she began to pull up the specs as requested.  She was glad that Kennedy hadn’t suggested Adler for this mission, and wondered how long she could continue to avoid him.  

Stardate: 2365.05.15

USS Peregrine, Deck 2 - Lt. Sa’eirdon’s Personal Quarters - 00:30

Sa’eridon’s quaraters were dark, only a single dimmed lamp sitting on the bedside table was left on.  There was the heavy scent of meat still lingering in the air from her meal earlier, and a towel lay on the ground where she had dropped it after taking a sonic shower.  Irregardless of her attempts to de-stress and take care of herself the headache from earlier was back.  She was now curled up on her bed in a nightgown, growling and holding her head in her hands.

“I need sleep tonight!”  She shuddered and slammed her fist into her thigh.  Giving into pain like this, especially pain that had no physical reason was not honorable.  The pain itself was not new.  She had been having headaches regularly, and sleep was hard to come by since she had gotten back onto the Peregrine.  Nightmares were a common occurrence. Tomorrow, however, they were expected to work on their first orders from Starfleet on this voyage, and engineering was going to be front and center for much of it.  She needed to be at her full potential. 

“Oh!  This is ridiculous!”  Growling again she stood up and grabbed a green silk robe.  She tied it around herself and padded out of her quarters, stalking toward the turbolift on Deck 2.  Her tail twitched under the silk fabric as she went. 

Once the turbolift doors opened she stepped into it.  Still rubbing at her temples she attempted to command the lift, “Deck 4.” 

A small beeping noise came from the computer, but the doors didn’t close and the turbolift made no indications that it was about to obey her orders. 

Another growl rolled deep in her chest.  “Rav-Darak!” she cursed in her native tongue.  “Why can’t we get these blasted lifts to work properly!?”

=^=I do not understand your request.=^= The computer chimed in. 

Her tail twitched furiously and she curled her fingers into a fist.  “Deck 4!  I said I want to go to Deck 4.  I want to go to the Medical Bay to get this cursed headache under control… but you are so stupid that you can’t even get that done!”  Vaguely she realized that she was screaming at a turbolift, one that she was responsible for fixing, but, in the moment it didn’t matter. 

=^=Please repeat your instructions.=^=

“Arrggh!!  Deck 4.  Deck 4.  Deck 4.”  

=^=Deck 4.  At your command.=^=

“Finally!”  She groaned, closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall of the turbolift as the doors closed and the lift began to rise.