Stardate: 2374.09.02
The Charon – 14:01 hours

Lt. Commander Kato 3 sat in his quarters on the Charon.

He was still getting used to them - he had hardly unpacked what few belongings he had brought from Eminiar 7, but he was used to life on the move. His years in the Eminian Spacefleet and year as an exchange officer in Starfleet had taught him to adapt to a minimalist lifestyle. Presently he was lying on the bunk, sitting against the headboard at a ninety degree angle, reading The Life and Times of Anan 7.

"Chapter 5 - Renewed Conflict (2268-2272)

Following the events of the Computer War, Anan 7, with the aid of the Federation, negotiated a brief and relatively unstable peace with Vindikar. Resentment of the Federation for their interference was rampant, and the population at large was busy adapting to the change to peacetime. As such, the Council was primarily focused on dealing with the needs of their own people, rather than on fostering peace with Vindikar. Ultimately, the peace never manifested as more than a temporary detente, and because the war resumed with actual weapons, Anan 7 has become one of the most controversial figures in Eminian history. Indeed, some regard him as one of the heroes of Eminiar, ultmiately bringing peace to the system, but many still refer to him disparagingly as 'The Disintegrator', a title that-..."
"Lt. Commander Kato 3,"

Kato's concentration was broken by a message for him from communications. He tapped his combadge, finally used to the motion after a year of service in Starfleet.

"Yes?"

"There's a subspace transmission from Eminiar 7, from a Mr. Tarik 1."

"Patch it through to my quarters, please."

Kato got up and walked over to the viewscreen, tapping the button to turn it on. The image materialized on the screen - his brother, Tarik 1, was sitting in the council chambers on Eminiar 7, but none of the other councilmen were there. The familiar symbols and regalia of the Eminian Union decked the walls.

"Kato," his brother said, a sort of melancholy smile on his lips.

"Tarik," Kato said, a bit confused. "Is this is an official communique, or a personal one?"

"Both," Tarik replied. "...and neither. The council wanted to make contact with you one last time. But I requested that I speak to you, alone."

Kato smiled and nodded.

"What is it, Tarik?"

"There's a war going on, Kato," Tarik began. "A war that the Eminian Union is seriously considering entering. All of the intelligence we've received on the Dominion and all of the encounters our fleet has had with them, however small, have led to believe that they area serious threat. But only the Federatio has engaged them, and you are one of only six other officers who are on exchange with the Federation as of now; none of the others have renewed their applications."

Tarik sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I know the days of the Computer War are done...and I know some decisions were made in those days that...not everyone agrees with. But...in those days, our honor...our devotion to duty...was never in question. It didn't matter if you agreed with it or not - you died for your duty to your homeworld."

Kato knew exactly what Tarik was speaking of, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it himself. Out of duty, millions of Eminians had marched fearlessly into disintegration chambers. And while it may have been terrible in one sense, in a way, what Tarik was saying made sense. Eminians knew their duty, and they followed it.

"What I'm trying to say, Kato," he said, "Is that I'm proud of you. You have no compunction about doing your duty and fulfilling your oath - to Eminiar 7, the one you made to Starfleet, and to the galaxy. That kind of honor is rare these days. I don't know what kind of mission you're going on, but from what Starfleet had told us, I get the feeling it's dangerous. And no matter what happens, you'll have done your duty."

Kato simply smiled, wiping a tear from his eye. "Thank you, brother."

"Good luck, Kato."

His brother terminated the communication on his end. Kato sat pensively for a moment. He hadn't thought of the situation that way - despite the small amount of time he'd spent in Starfleet, he'd heard the rumors about the Charon being a deathtrap. But, to him, taking the assignment was just one more duty to fulfill.

He set the biography down, stood up, and stretched, all the while reflecting on the briefing in the ready room. The council on Eminiar 7 didn't know the half of what his mission would be, or what kind of danger he'd be getting into. And it was possible, perhaps even probable, that he could die.

No matter, he thought, heading towards the door. Time to see what kind of science facilities this vessel has exactly...

Convo with Kel
Stardate: 2374.09.03
The Cerberus – Captain’s Ready Room – 00:06 hours
Kelsey Gavison’s scarred face suddenly flashed into being on the heretofore blank screen to which Mac had been speaking. Mary, mother o’ Jayzus, Mac winced inwardly as the image of the Charon’s CO resolved on the panel, I’d ‘eard th’ tales, lad, but wha’ inna bloody ‘ell ‘ave ye done tae yerself? MacTavish, of course, knew what had become of Gavison in the years since they’d served together aboard the Discovery (and, worse, knew what had happened to Sherry and the babe at the hands of the Jem’Hadar not long after the start of this bloody war) but this was the first he’d seen that face unbandaged or conscious in quite some time.

“My take,” Gavison said, “Is that you and I have finally done it, Mac. We’ve twisted enough Starfleet admiral’s short an curlies into knots that they’ve decided to do us in once and for all, hoping we do some damage to the Dominion in the process.” The Charon’s captain’s face was an unearthly glow of blue in the midst of the dark see of his quarters. He took a deep breath and shook his head, the fire in his eyes burning back any weariness he was feeling.

Mac snorted around the rim of the glass of scotch and shot down another quick nip; “Aye, lad, tha’s th’ vera same smell I go’ from th’ bloody theng. Fer a mission sech as this, we’re a fair sight from bein’ pr’pared proper if ye want th’ truth o’ et…”

“No, Mac. I’m overreacting. It’s late, and I’m pissed as hell at developments—probably because I didn’t get to choose this mission and we’re going in wearing slippers instead of Klingon combat boots.”

MacTavish leaned back in his seat and offered a fractional nod in response. It wasn’t that long ago that it would have been Mac making those kinds of statements and Gavison – the Gavison that was, anyway – would have been doing his by-the-book best to piss down his back with logic and reason and..

“Romulans, huh?” Gavison suddenly shifted gears. “Ever think you’d see the day they were on your ship without phaser burns through their chests, or security bracelets about their wrists? Let alone aiding Starfleet in a critical mission?”

“Aye,” Mac chuffed as an ironic smirk spread on his lips and his eyes looked up from their contemplation of the melting ice cubes in his glass, “If ye’d’ve told me jus’ a week ago tha’ I’d be captainin’ a boat wi’ but a one o’ them smarmy, point-eared bastards, I’d’ve been inclined ta stuff meself inna nearest tairpeda tube an’ ‘ave meself launched, aye?”

((OOC: Back and forth as you see fit… ))

The CEO
Stardate: 2374.09.03
USS Cerberus - Captain’s Ready Room – 0422 hours
Mac had just changed into a clean uniform when the chime sounded. Tha’ll be me CEO, he figured, shrugging into the jacket but not bothering to fasten it. “Aye! Enter!”

The door hissed open and a surprisingly young looking man in ENG Golds stepped smartly into the ready room. As Cameron was a last minute replacement for Tier, Mac hadn’t had time to review the man’s roster completely but was sure that he remembered the man’s service record reflecting dates that were surely before this one might’ve been born. Farg it, Mac’s mind shrugged as he eyed the CEO, Jes’ s’long as ‘e’s go’ ‘alf o’ Tier’s qualifications et dinnae make a diff’rence.
((Assuming a “Lt Cdr Duncan Cameron reporting as ordered, yaddah,yaddah))

“Stand a’ ease, Commander,” Mac rumbled, “I understand ye’ve no’ been abaird better’n an hour, lad, an’ I know ye’ve likely no’ had th’ time tae as much as scratch yer arse an’ find yer billet, so I’ll be keepin’ this short, aye?

I’m sure yer aware, Mester Cameron, tha’ we’ve go’ a Romulan detachment abaird, aye? An’ yer likely more’n aware tha’ th’ majority of ‘em’ve been pokin’ aboot in yer engine room an’ beatin’ the bloody hell oota me boat gettin’ their cloak installed. Aside from tha’ ray o’ sunshine, lad, ‘ere be th’ impairtant bits.

Fairst: yer crew’s been wairkin’ their arses off gettin’ this ship shaken doon an’ set ta deploy. Figura’s been a bloody ‘ard taskmaster an’ if yer keen on et, I’d recommend keepin’ ‘im close an’ per’aps designatin’ ‘im as yer alternate.

Second: ‘ard as they’ve been wairkin’ I dinnae expect tha’ ye’ll be lettin’ up on a one o’ ‘em afore all the bugs’re chased off me boat an’ we’re well onna way tae DS9 wi’ the field test o’ tha’ cloak in our wake.

Third: Yer orders likely gave ye a brief onna mission parameters, aye? Told ye tha’ we were sairch an’ recovery an’ tha’ engagements wi’ th’ enemy would be minimal…”

((A nod… a yessir… a ‘what the hell are you talking about?!))

“Aye. Well, Mester Cameron, I dinnae give a good twist o’ Charlie’s knickers wha’ those fargin’ orders said. I expect ye tae run yer shop as ef this were combat mission. Damage Control Teams active an’ on post ‘round th’ clock, life-suppairt kept ta minimal in unnecessary sections o’ th’ boat an’ tha’ power reseairved fer tactical systems an’ tha’ bloody Rommie cloak. Ye know th’ drill… an’ ef ye don’, I suggest ye lairn et inna next eigh’y-sev’n minutes. I want Cerberus free o’ all umbilicals an’ clear o’ this dock as o’ zero-six-hundred.

“C’n ye make tha’ ‘appen, Commander Cameron? Anythin’ yer no’ pairfectly clear on?”

((reply, questions))

“Grand,” Mac nodded, stepping around his desk and making for the door of the ready room, “Tha’ jus’ leaves us wi’ number four, then, does et no’?

‘Ere et is. Number Four: Welcome abaird the Cerberus, Mester Cameron, and get yer arse oota me office an’ get me ship inta the ink!”

((OOC: There’s a bit for Cameron and Kel… Mac’s heading for the Bridge at this point and the next bit will cover launch and the rest... If not up later tonight, it'll be first thing tomorrow))

Stardate: 2374.09.02
The Charon – Captain’s Ready Room – 1102 hours
“You’ve all done well,” the Captain began in a low, even tone. “What I’m about to relay might come as a surprise to some, to others it is what was expected, though I’m sure the details are what you’re avidly awaiting.”
Lt. Cmdr Talon smiled slightly anticipating the details of this mission. He hated all this waiting around making repairs and giving reports. He wanted combat, ship to ship, hand to hand, it didn’t matter, anything was better than sitting around listening to report about how the ship was ready to go. Once the battle was engaged; plans were just that, plans! He was smiling now because they were coming closer to the heart of their purpose; this was something he could enjoy.

“Last night, Lieutenant Kennedy oversaw the transport of some containers to our cargo bays. These containers are to be left alone. Tampering with them will result in a whole hell of a lot of time in my brig. The containers are filled with argine. Are any of you familiar with that substance? It is very destructive explosive. There are thirteen containers…just enough to completely destroy an orbital platform.”
Talon nodded, this explained the secret transport in the middle of the night. Security! Still Talon furrowed his brow as to why Lt Kennedy was called upon for this duty and he was not.

“I will assign a 24 hr security detail to guard the cargo bay,” the Lyran said, “especially with the Romulans coming aboard soon,” the contempt audible in his voice.

“My sources tell me that there is a Jem’Hadar incubation platform in orbit around that planet, and we’re going to use this little mission of Starfleet’s to strike a major blow against the Dominion.”

Kelsey paused once more to eyeball the new additions to his ship before turning his attention to Talon. “Lt. Cmdr. Talon, you’ll put together the usual compliment to join us in the infiltration of the base in order to plant the localization device so that we can beam the explosives past the platform’s shields.
Talon picked up his PADD and immediately began making notes as the Captain continued to give other’s their orders. He quickly assembled a team of his best Security personal familiar with close combat, and demolitions. Lt Myers would be his second on this mission and that left him with 5 others to chose for a six man team, unless… he looked up at the Captain and waited for him to finish.

The room fell silent for a moment as Kel allowed the information to sink in. Then, he stood up indicating that the mission briefing was at an end. “Work whatever you need to out through Lt. Kennedy to coordinate departments. Any questions?”
“Sir?” Talon spoke up quickly, “I recommend we take one of our Type 8 shuttle craft since it has the best weapons, speed, and crew capacity, but I need to know who among command personnel will be going on this mission?”

Talon didn’t have to look at the specs for the Type 8 shuttle to know it had a crew capacity of two flight and 6 passengers. He intended to be one of the group and could fill one of the flight position, but he needed to know how many officers would be going so he could fill the remaining compliment with security personnel. Eight people on this mission, didn’t seem like much when attacking a Jem’Hadar installation but Talon grinned slightly at the challenge.


(Once he got an answer – Possible backpost later if Talon has objections to crew assignment of officers)


“Time is running out, people. Dismissed.”
Talon rose and headed down to his office; he had work to do and a mission to plan and he needed to get his team together and practice the mission. He would try to plan for any contingency, but then again… plans were just plans!

Stardate 2374.09.03 - 0545 hours
USS Cerberus - Bridge
As the moment of launch drew nearer and nearer, Duncan thought back on his meeting with the Captain, reflecting on what was said, and more importantly, what wasn't said.

"Yer orders likely gave ye a brief onna mission parameters, aye? Told ye tha’ we were sairch an’ recovery an’ tha’ engagements wi’ th’ enemy would be minimal…”

"Aye, Sir. I was told that very thing, but..."

“Aye. Well, Mester Cameron, I dinnae give a good twist o’ Charlie’s knickers wha’ those fargin’ orders said. I expect ye tae run yer shop as ef this were combat mission."

We seem to be on the same page there, thought Duncan. If there's S & R work to be done, then obviously the Dominion has been there. No reason at all to think they won't lurk in the shadows waitin' to pick off any potential rescuers as well.
It seemed, though, that the captain was expecting combat beyond the reactionary kind. Perhaps he intended the Cerberus to do a bit more than simple search and rescue. Besides, thought Duncan, they wouldn't go to all the trouble of doing all this landmark engineering work with an experimental cloaking strategy if it was just a simple rescue operation.
No matter, though. If the captain wanted to take this ship into the gates of Hell itself, Duncan vowed that he would see to it that the ship held together all the way up Lucifer's nostrils. From what he knew of secondhand, and what little he had experienced firsthand, MacTavish was a man worthy of the command chair, and worthy of every effort to keep him in it.

“C’n ye make tha’ ‘appen, Commander Cameron? Anythin’ yer no’ pairfectly clear on?”

"Aye, Captain. She'll be ready to fight, and she'll hold together - that's a promise."

“Grand,” Mac nodded, stepping around his desk and making for the door of the ready room.
As Duncan again focused on the present and the tasks at hand, he was already mentally coordinating schedules, plans and procedures for implementing MacTavish's orders. He'd have a meeting with the entire Engineering department once the ship was underway, and he'd make damned sure that every single one of his personnel did their jobs to the best of their ability.

He was familiar with the stories of the ship's namesake, and he was proud to be a part of the birth of her legacy. As long as he drew breath, this hellhound's fangs would bite hard, and her claws would stay sharp.

Stardate: 2374.09.03
Cerberus - Transporation Room - 05:35 Hours
The transporter beam fizzled out and left the girl standing on the platform. Peering around she grinned at the tech behind the desk.

"Everything in it's proper place? Okay to come down now?"

The tech laughed a little and nodded,
"All clear miss..."

"Thanks!" Gathering her mess she stepped off the platform.
The tech gave her a good looking over as she stepped into the full light of the room. The first thing he noticed, was the odd assortment of things she had precariously balanced in her arms. Largest of the items was a framed document, printed in elaborate red calligraphy, a diploma from Oxford University. This precious document was wedged between her upper arms, as her hands were each carrying a pot. In the two pots were plants, the one on the left side was a tall green plant with a flat top. The top was stripped with brilliant red and appeared to have small spike like protrusions poking out one end. On the right was another tall plant this one with strangely shapped purple flowers dropping from it's thin stems. Burdening her shoulders further was a large backpack, with what appeared to be a corn stalk sticking out the top of it.

Underneath the important paperwork and the foliage there was a girl. Slight in build and average in height she was easily buried by everything. However, under it all she was pretty. Skin the color of chocolate milk, dark hazel almond shaped eyes, and smooth thick black hair pulled into a heavy braid and then tied up around her head like a crown. The look was exotic to say the least and seemed to incorporate several human races in it. After noting how pretty she was he couldn’t help but then notice the small silver band with a tiny diamond set in the middle on her left ring finger, married, or at least engaged… just as his luck would have it.

Her uniform was still shiny and new, so new in fact that the tech noticed a size sticker still on one of the sleeves.

"So... you need a hand miss?" The tech rose and offered to take one of her plants.

"Oh... thank you. Be careful with her, that's Jezabell." Grinning as she handed over the flowering plant.
He rose a brow "Jezabell?"

Nodding happily, "Yes, she's an orchid. Delightful little creature she is, and not nearly as temperamental as Judas here..." nodding toward the other plant.

The girl named her plants, pretty but odd…

"I see... " he really didn't but it didn't seem worth stressing the point. "Oxford huh?"

"Yes" blushing, "just graduated, last December. Spent the last few months at the Academy, graduated from that just yesterday. Boy was that ever hard! I’ve never done anything so hard in my life! But I am so excited about getting to come along with you guys, I’ve heard this is going to be a very important mission. Don’t get me wrong, Oxford was great, loved it, but I am so looking forward to getting out there, with the stars, and... and all those plants I only got to see on hologram back at Oxford, or some I've never even heard of before, hey! I wonder if I find some new species do you think they'll name it after me? Oh wouldn't that be glorious!"

The tech let the girl ramble for a bit then asked, "Your uncle?"

"Yes. Admiral Long. He's my mother’s older brother, well that does make sense, him being my uncle and all.”

"Admiral Long, the Dean of Starfleet Academy?" The tech asked, his eyes bugging out a bit.

"Yes. Are there more than one Admiral Longs? Boy would that be confusing."

"No... there aren't. Not that I know of anyway." He shook his head, having the favored niece of Admiral Long on board was not going to make this trip any more pleasant, he thought to himself.

"Oh! How rude I've been... I've introduced you to my plants, but not myself yet..." giggles, "I'm Ensign Sojourn Lyvette, Apprentice Science Officer. But really you can just call me Curie, everyone does."

Curie? He considered asking, but was too afraid of what the answer might be and how long it might take her to get to it, so instead he just smiled, "Crewman Bruce Wainwright, Engineering. Please to make your acquaintance. Now let’s get you to the Turbolift, Lt. Solus will be expecting you to report. However, we are due to launch here in less than half an hour, seems you just made it aboard, I think he’ll be up on the Bridge for the launch. It might be best if you wait in the laboratory until he comes down from that.”

“Well lets find out!” She grinned, “Computer! Location of Lt. Solus…”

=^//= Science Laboratory. =^//=

“See! He’s still there, I should hurry before he leaves! Computer, inform Lt. Solus I am on my way to report for duty…”

Wainwright could not help but to smile slightly at the girls obvious enthusiasm, especially aboard this ship.
“Turbolift is this way maam…” He smiled and led the way, carrying her plant with him.

At the Turbolift he put the plant down inside the pod and helped Lyvette inside.

“Thanks so much Wainwright…” She grinned down at him as the doors slid shut and she went on her way.

Inside she hummed softly to herself in her excitement over her very first post, and she smiled down at Judas in her arms, “We made it guy, can you believe it?!”

The Turbolift attendant rose his brow at the girl talking to a plant but said nothing, stopping in front of the Science Lab and holding the doors open for her while she clumsily collected all of her things in her arms and bade him a smile goodbye.

The door to the Laboratory was open and standing in it was a tall man in a blue shirt, he too had a brow raised at the spectacle going on in front of him.

“Lt. Solus I presume…” She smiled and started to try and offer a hand and then realized they were all full of plants and diplomas. “Well… I’d shake your hand but as you can see my hands are full… I’m Ensign Lyvette, the new Apprentice Science Office, reporting for duty sir!” Standing up to full height with pride, the corn stalk behind her bouncing.

“Indeed… I am Lt. Solus. Come in and put some of that down.”

“Yes sir!” She grinned and walked into the lab, taking a second to look around and admire all the scientific do-dads laying around, “Ohhh… very nice. Just anywhere?”

“On the counter over there. I am going to skip the whole, welcome on board, here is your quarters, and PADD and all of that because I am on my way to the Bridge for launch, so you’ll just have to wait… On second thought how about you come up with me, I’ll introduce you around the Bridge while everyone is there.”

“Wonderful!” She set the plants in her hands on the counter leaned the frame against the cabinets and carefully pulled off her backpack and set it on the counter as well. Turning with a smile she quickly gave a little wave of her fingers to the plants and then looked at the Lt. “All ready to go sir!”

Shaking his head a little bit at the young girl he got back onto the Turbolift and waited for him to join her. The ride there was quiet, save for a slight humming coming from Sojourn.

Once at the Bridge she followed Lt. Solus in quietly, eyes wide, taking it all in, her hands clasped behind her back so she could fight off the urge to touch everything.

Stardate: 2374.09.03
Cerberus - Bridge - 05:50 Hours

At the appointed time, by S’Talon’s calculations, The Centurion and her Sub-Commander stepped onto the Bridge. As S’Talon as said, “If we arrive too early and they might think we are spying on them and if we arrive too late, they might think are we are trying to upset their routine.”

As the Bridge doors opened Sienae saluted. Romulan uniforms were austere in comparison to Star Fleet uniforms with their identifying colors so they stood out from other personnel while blending into the background of the gray walls. Sienae’s tall, by Romulan standards, lithe figure was a contrast to S’Talon’s shorted bulked out figure.

“Permission to enter, Captain.” Sienae face the Captain squarely and waited. Behind her look were the unsaid words. “I know you do not want me here, us here, but we are here and there is nothing we can do about it. I know your opinion and feeling about us, you have made that perfectly clear. You will have to deal with it just as I do.'

It was not a challenge, but a statement of facts. They had had a number of stormy private meetings, the captain seemed to feel he could argue facts. That caused sparks to fly- flint against steel-that was what they were.



(Replies and interactions)

Sienae looked about the bridge with a sweeping glance so as not to seem to be lingering her gaze on any one area. She and S’Talon then moved to the one area in the Bridge that was out of the way, yet afforded them a view of the Captain in his command chair.

Sienae could not suppress the feeling of excitement as the launch proceeded. It was like the time at the academy where she was given the command of the training ship, the excitement and the responsibility that seemed to balance themselves within her. Even though this was not her ship, nor even a Romulan ship, she still felt the trembling of as the Cerberus was being unlocked from the couplings and loosed to float free, though with all the internal dampeners, it was probably only in her imagination.

Stardate: 2374.09.03 Cerberus – Bridge – 0601 hours
/--\\ We’re disconnecting the umbilical, Captain. /--\\

Station control informed MacTavish in a matter-of-fact tone that bellied the excitement, and trepidation, that the crew felt. Those on the bridge glanced about at each other before quickly returning to the matter at hand. Lt. Jon Patrick Hash was, perhaps, the least excited of them all. He felt the release of the umbilical through the deck floor in a detached sort of way, standing as he was behind the captain’s chair. It was customary for all of the senior officers to be on the bridge when the ship was launched. That was the only reason he was there. He wasn’t like other Star Fleet officers who looked forward to the launch of a new vessel, celebrating it with joy. He knew, perhaps better than anyone else on board he’d met thus far, that they were apt to encounter pain, suffering, and death in their journey. This knowledge put a damper on the Cerberus’ maiden voyage as far as he was concerned.

“Conf’rm detachmen’, Lieutenan’ P’Tammah,” Mac ordered in a steady voice from his seat behind ops control.

“The umbilical has been detached, Captain,” Vaela P’Tammah stated after pressing a couple of buttons on the flight control console.

“Stations conf’rm green status,” Captain MacTavish continued.

“Tac confirmed,” Rrowl growled from his post.

“Ops confirmed,” replied Lt. Amy Dixon.

“Engineering confirmed,” Chief Cameron added.

“Then, by all tha’s ‘oly, take us ou’, Mistair P’Tammah.”

“Aye, Sir.”

/--\\ “Good luck, Captain.” /--\\

The ship systems didn’t allow for the crew to actually feel the motion begin, but Hash was veteran enough to claim that he could as the screen showed the gripping, skeletal hands of encompassing the Cerberus pass by, and out of view. Jon remained still with a bored expression on his face as space was revealed in its vastness before them.

“We’ve cleared the pylons, Captain,” Vaela stated as she continued to enter data into her console.

“Entair course, an’ engage, Ensign. Warp four,” Mac leaned forward slightly.

“Aye, Sir.”

Within seconds the ship leapt forward, the screen showing the stars about it lurching—the only indication that they were in motion—and then, the stars slipped into a plethora of white streams as the ship entered warp.

“We done here, Captain?” Hash threw protocol to the wind. “I’ve got a butt-load of work to do thanks to the incompetence of the engineering staff. Some fool decided to turn off an anti-grav dolly before removing his leg from the vicinity—idiot.”

The captain’s response was the signal for the ceremony of it all to end. The senior staff were free to return to their duties, or remain on the bridge as they saw fit. For his part, Jon Hash was done. He hadn’t been lying about the accident, and as usual, he didn’t trust his medical staff even with a simple bone structure reconstruction. As soon as he’d received the captain’s permission, he was heading for the turbolift.

Stardate: 2374.09.05 Cerberus – Engineering – 1130 hours
Stan had really fallen into the routine. He’d managed to stay out of Chief Cameron’s way, partly due to his own ingenuity and partly due to the fact that his lack of hygiene made it so that he was generally scheduled when Cameron wasn’t in engineering, or in areas where he wouldn’t bother people. The freedom this allowed was vastly preferred, even needed, in order for the creature to carry out his mission. In fact, since launching, Stan had developed a plan. The freedom that he’d enjoyed had finally allowed him to procure the knowledge he needed to succeed. He was quite pleased with his plan, but professional enough to manage to obscure his pleasure from those he was forced to deal with.

He’d had to wait for the right moment to act. For two days he’d waited, watching, carrying the tool of his success on his person—another ingenious idea he’d had that had taken very little by way of programming to work out. In Stan’s opinion the Federation was too easy a target in their simplicity. He’d often wondered how the Dominion hadn’t already crushed them, but again, his professionalism held him to his directive despite his misgivings.

Stan stood at the console in Engineering with his back to the reactor, going through the motions of a level one diagnostics. Today was the day. It was perfect. They were far enough from the space station that it would be impractical for a quick rescue, and Stan had already sabotaged the distress signal so that it wouldn’t activate once pressed. He’d also deactivated the warp core ejector. He was absolutely confident that he would succeed, and this wasn’t his first Federation ship either, so he’d already proven his method effective.

Working through the diagnostic, Stan Stowbreiski—or rather, the shapeshifter posing as him—shut down the console, turned and began to pass the warp containment cell. When near the view portal, he “accidentally” dropped his PADD; reaching out with his left hand, he placed it on the control console’s rim while he bent and retrieved it. He felt a slight tingling from his hand as the destructive nanites he’d brought on board swarmed from within him in mass invisible to the naked eye. Rising up, Stan gave the PADD a pat with his other hand and raised his eyebrows at the crewman who’d witnessed the whole affair in an apologetic gesture.

“Jellyfingers,” he said, unwittingly using the wrong slang, but getting it close enough that the man shook his head in disgust and returned to his duties. Stan smiled and breezed past, making his way out of engineering and into the hall.

Stardate: 2374.09.05 Cerberus – Bridge – 1515 hours
“Captain?” Ensign Montague frowned at the red light that had just appeared on his monitoring console. Standing at the engineering station on the bridge, the ensign was filling in for Chief Cameron while the man took a brief regulated break. Montague’s heart had stopped beating in his chest when the light had appeared, and for a brief moment he wondered if he’d done something wrong. Calling to the captain had been reflexive, but realization of what was happening spurred him on, overriding the captain in his urgency. “Captain! The warp core is going critical at an intense rate!”

“Wha’!?” Mac spun about in his seat. “’Ow long do we ‘ave, lad?”

“Minutes, if that, Sir.”

“’Ow the bloody ‘ell—Engineerin’!” MacTavish barked. “Report!”

/--\\ “Sir, the warp core is going all sorts of haywire--/--\\

“I bloody know tha’! Can ya shut ‘er down?”

“We’re tryin—“ The sound of an explosion echoed through the speakers.

“Lad? Lad!” MacTavish was out of his seat in a motion sparked by concern.

“Sir, we’ve a breach in the reaction chamber.” Ensign Montague turned a panicked gaze to his captain.

“Engineerin’, d’ ya read?” Jack waved the man down as he looked to the ceiling for an answer.

/--\\“Cap…warp core…ejection failed…breach killed…”/--\\

“Sickbay!” Jack barked, switching his link through the neural-processor. “Git a medical team t’ engineerin’ on the double!

“Red alairt,” MacTavish finished sharply.

“Sir! Warp core containment failure in one minute!” Montague’s wavering voice broke through the sudden flashing red lights and low pitched siren.

“Can ya ejec’ the damn thing from yer station, Lad?”

“I’ll try, Sir, but I do—“

The turbo lift doors opened admitting Chief Cameron and Rrowl.

“Negative, Sir!” Montague yelled. “The ejection sequence isn’t responding.”

Chief Cameron darted across to the console and began to work at the station while Ensign Montague looked worriedly over his shoulder. Perhaps he’d missed something, perhaps he’d forgotten the proper command codes for such a drastic measure. The young man continued to watch his superior’s fingers fly across the console with an agility and deft confidence that he could only wish he possessed. Only when Cameron’s efforts returned the same results as his own was he convinced that he didn’t do anything wrong.

Jack glanced about at his command, for a moment caught up in the ridiculousness of the situation. They were two days from their launch point in a brand new ship that was now going critical. Two days!

“This is yer cap’ain speakin’,” MacTavish said with a touch of grimness to his tone as he activated the ship-wide relay. “This is no’ a drill. Abandon ship wit’ pos’ haste. I repea’ this is no’ a drill.”

The computer’s voice took over from there, repeating the phrase, “Abandon ship. All personnel are to report to the ejection pods on their deck. Abandon ship.’
On the bridge, MacTavish ushered all of the officers towards their respective escape routes. He knew they had mere seconds before the warp core exploded taking them all with it, so he rushed them as fast as he could. With him went Ensign Tal Montague, Chief Duncan Cameron, Ensign Sojourn Marie Lyvette (currently on bridge duty), Rrowl, and Lt. Amy Dixon. Within seconds they were filing into one of the escape pods designated for senior staff, securing the door behind them, and strapping in. The force of their release from the Cerberus into space wasn’t dampened as their launch had been two fateful days prior, and each and every one of them felt the g-forces pulling at them as they were shot into space with enough power to take them far from the pending explosion. They could see the Cerberus spitting similar pods into space as they drew further, and further away from it, and then, white light broke free of the hull where engineering was located.

“There were too few pods!” Dixon whispered in horror as the ship continued to be devoured by the ravenous destruction. Her eyes were welling up with tears. It was as though she could feel the deaths of all those who’d failed to reach their pods in time in one sweeping emotion. “Not everyone made it.”

She hadn’t known them for long, but the crew had been one she’d already determined was her family. There was no other way around it when one went on a long, dangerous journey. Those who went with you were drawn together by that singular bond of mortality. Looking about at the faces with her, she wondered about the condition of those they’d left behind even though some she’d only briefly met. What of Sitok, P’Tammah, Tyrone Carter, Larya Korae, Chief Valberg, the Romulans, and yes, even Lt. Hash? What of the hundreds of other crewmen and women she’d been determined to get to know—the names she had gone over again and again in her duties? So many…and so few escape pods…

/--\\Chirp/--\\

Spinning about in her seat as best she could with the restraints across her chest, Amy raised her eyebrows and wiped away the tears that were streaming down her face as Captain MacTavish looked over the Flight Control console.

“We’re bein’ ‘ailed,” he muttered in a ghostly voice as he pressed the button to respond. “This'd be MacTavish.”

“Well, ain’t that fortune smiling on our little party,” Jon Hash’s voice returned. “Lt. Hash, Captain. I’ve got a few of my medical staff with me, and a couple of other crewmen. The pod is full, but I am showing only a few others within the vicinity.”

The reports continued to come in after Lt. Hash’s, but it was as Dixon feared. Too few had escaped the destruction of the Cerberus; so many had died. The last of these reports to come in was from a Brianna MacQueen of the M.A.C.O.s. With her were a few of her marines and an engineer named Stan David Stowbreiski.

Stardate: 2374.09.05
DS9 – Command Center, Briefing Room – 22:17 hours
Kel entered at Sisko’s behest with little expression on his face. It wasn’t that he disliked Sisko—the two got along well enough despite Kelesey’s disbelief in the man’s “visions.” It was that until a few days ago, he’d been able to disbelieve Sisko was The Prophet that the Bajoran people loved to hate, or hated to love. After his encounter with that mysterious messenger, he wasn’t so sure that he could so easily dismiss Benjamin Sisko’s experiences, and that bothered him. Kelsey Gavison was, after all, a man seeped in reality, and the world of mysticism was not something he was comfortable with.

“Ah, Kelsey,” Sisko looked up from his desk and motioned at the chair opposite him, a soft smile on his face.

“What’s this about, Ben?” Kel sat as instructed, crossing his right leg over his left and eyeing The Prophet with a questioning gaze.

“I apologize for the lateness of the hour, Kel, but there’s something you should read.” Leaning forward, Sisko offered his counterpart a PADD. Once Kelsey had taken it, the captain of DS9 leaned back in his chair, a grim expression on his face.

“They lost contact with it about seven hours ago,” Sisko stated as Kelsey looked up from the report.

“What do you mean, ‘lost contact?’ exactly?”

“The tracking source of the Cerberus went dead at 15:17 today, Kel. So far, they’ve not received any distress signals, no communication attempts have been successful—it is like the Cerberus just disappeared.”

“The Romulans—“

“There’s nothing to indicate that they had anything to do with this. We’ve no intelligence indicating a Romulan presence within that quadrant, and it is unlikely that the Romulan contingent would have committed suicide to complete a mission. Kelsey, we don’t know what happened, but you’re to find out.”

“The Charon isn’t fully operational. Surely there’s a ship closer to their last known position that could get their faster,” Kelsey tossed the PADD back on the desk where it landed with a very audible clatter.

“If there were, we’d have sent it.” Sisko sighed and leaned forward, clasping his hands in front of him. “The Charon is the only ship available for maneuvers. You can reach their last known position in a little under a day at warp six.

“Kelsey, we can only assume that something went wrong. We’re hoping that it was a minor malfunction what with it being a new ship, but we can’t be certain. If Captain MacTavish and his crew are still alive out there, you’re their hope of being brought back in.”

“They’re alive,” Kelsey stood up and tugged at the dress shirt of his uniform to straighten out wrinkles. “Jack MacTavish is too damn stubborn to die just yet.”

“From everything I’ve read on him, I’d have to believe you.” Ben also stood. “I’ve already had the coordinates transferred to your flight control. Bring them home, Captain.”

Kelsey saluted the senior officer and promptly strode from the room, his mind racing. MacTavish was an excellent engineer, and he’d demand excellence from his engineering crew. In Kel’s mind, there was no way that the Cerberus was experiencing a minor communications malfunction. Something was definitely wrong, and the possibilities were endless; though Gavison didn’t restrain his imagination as he strode through the promenade and eventually onto the Charon.

“This is Captain Gavison.” The ship’s overhead barked his words to the whole of his crew. He’d been demanding they sleep aboard ship for the past two days in the hopes that they’d finalize the repairs to the Charon quicker as time had been running out. All personnel should be accounted for. “Report to your stations. We are leaving berth. I repeat: report to your stations immediately. The Charon will be under way in less than fifteen minutes, or I’ll skin the man holding me up.”

Dropping into his chair, Kel began to address what systems he could from his command console, all the while, his visage darkening as “what if’s” kept running through his brain. When the deck was full, he barked his orders to disengage from the pylon, only addressing the tired staff once they were a safe distance from the station.

“Our sister ship in this mission has gone missing, and we’re going to find her,” he began over the intraship communications. “As of 15:17 hours this afternoon, the Cerberus was reported missing. There has been no communication from her, or any of her crew, since. This ship is now in yellow alert and will remain so until further notice.”

Ending his broadcast, Kel looked over his senior staff. “I don’t know what awaits us when we get there, so be on your game.

“Warp six, Lt. Mas’Riat.”

Stardate: 2374.09.03
Cerberus – Bridge – 0601 hours

Sienae and S'Talon stayed out of the way observing.

/--\\\\ We’re disconnecting the umbilical, Captain. /--\\\\

“Conf’rm detachmen’, Lieutenan’ P’Tammah,” Mac ordered in a steady voice from his seat behind ops control.

“The umbilical has been detached, Captain,” Vaela P’Tammah stated after pressing a couple of buttons on the flight control console.

“Stations conf’rm green status,” Captain MacTavish continued.

“Tac confirmed,” Rrowl growled from his post.

“Ops confirmed,” replied Lt. Amy Dixon.

“Engineering confirmed,” Chief Cameron added.

“Then, by all tha’s ‘oly, take us ou’, Mistair P’Tammah.”

“Aye, Sir.”

/--\\\\ “Good luck, Captain.” /--\\\\

Sienae watched the bridge staff, the veterans and virgins, so to speak.

“We’ve cleared the pylons, Captain,” Vaela stated as she continued to enter data into her console.

“Entair course, an’ engage, Ensign. Warp four,” Mac leaned forward slightly.

“Aye, Sir.”

Within seconds the ship leapt forward, the screen showing the stars about it lurching—the only indication that they were in motion—and then, the stars slipped into a plethora of white streams as the ship entered warp.

“We done here, Captain?” Hash threw protocol to the wind. “I’ve got a butt-load of work to do thanks to the incompetence of the engineering staff. Some fool decided to turn off an anti-grav dolly before removing his leg from the vicinity—idiot.”

The captain’s response was the signal for the ceremony of it all to end. The senior staff were free to return to their duties, or remain on the bridge as they saw fit.

“Congratulations, Captain,” Sienae offered as the ship went into warp. “Thank you for inviting us to join you for the launch.” Sienae then salutes the Captain and the bridge along with S’Talon,

Sienae then turned to The CEO. “Lt. Commander Cameron I do need to meet with you, say, 2 days from now, in the evening, that will allow time for things to set settled into a routine. I wish to discuss with you the modifications that we have made to the Cloaking Device.”

Stardate: 2374.09.05
Cerberus – The Centurion’s Cabin – 1045 hours

/--\\\\ Lieutenants Khellian and Pardek, report to the Centurion’s cabin. /--\\\\

Sienae withheld her smile as the two promply appeared at her cabin within minutes.

“/--\\\\ Enter. /--\\\\ She commed to them. As they entered they saw The Centurion seated at the table, her chair half turned as she stared out into space.

“Sit down, we need to talk.” When they were seated at the table, Sienae turns from perusing the view from her window and looks to them. “So far everything has been running smoothly, but we can not be sure it will stay that way. I trust you two, along with S’Talon, I have come to know you and each of you has proved your loyalty and dedication. I want you two to do diagnostics on the CD every 4 hours and have the results officially recorded.” That statement meant that she did not fully trust the two other male Romulans in the group. “You are both well aware that there are factions within Romulus that would like to see this mission fail. And there are others outside of Romulus, as Rhiana knows my last ship was all but destroyed by agents of the Dominion.”

“I have a feeling that you two feel as I do. That it is time for the RSE to join forces with Starfleet to fight this menace to the alpha quadrant.”

(Replies and comments)

“Tonight I will be meeting with the CEO and I will want you there. I will be asking the he also do random checks on the CD. Much damage could be done to our tenuous position should anything go wrong with the CD. While you do your checks make sure you invite those crewmembers whom we have trained to be with you when you do so. I will be asking Lt. Commander Cameron to see there is at least one of the SF crew we trained on duty day and night.”

“When you leave here I want you to go to Engineering and do an Nth level diagnostic and log it in. Also, I got a memo from the CMO as to appointments for medical exams. Luckily they will not interfere with the scheduled diagnostics. Yes, Rhiana, now that we are underway I will go to see the Doctor.”

As for this afternoon at 1200 I want you to bring the CD for the Charon here so we can get it modifed, S’Talon will be doing the diagnostics at 1300.”

“I want you two to be alert, there could be Tal Shiar operatives on board. “Now you need to get to Engineering and get those diagnostics done.

Stardate: 2374.09.05
Cerberus – Centurion’s Cabin – 1515 hours

Sienae and the females of her team were just finishing closing up the CD and S’Talon, now back from his diagnostics of the CD was pouring out small glasses of Romulan ale and handing them to the others, keeping one for himself. “Here is to a successful joint venture.” He lifted his glass and drank the deep blue contents.

“Indeed,” replied Sienae tossing back the blur ale.

“This is yer cap’ain speakin’,” MacTavish said with a touch of grimness to his tone as he activated the ship-wide relay. “This is no’ a drill. Abandon ship wit’ pos’ haste. I repea’ this is no’ a drill.”

The computer’s voice took over from there, repeating the phrase, “Abandon ship. All personnel are to report to the ejection pods on their deck. Abandon ship.’

“Take the CD!” Sienae shouted and she grabbed up her PADD/computer. By the time Sienae, Shiarrel and Rhiana made it to the corridor shepherding the CD he was back with them with them. Together with their watchdogs they made it to an escape pod. It was cramped with the CD which the had to quickly lash down, knowing there were no grav dampeners on the escape pods. One of the SF security detail punched the button that sent them carreening into space away from the Cerberus. Beside getting their computers and the CD, S'Talon still had the bottle of Romulan ale.

/--\\\\Chirp/--\\\\

“This is Centurion Sienae i’Mhiessan Khnialmnae. I have with me Lt. S'Talon i'Iuruth D'mora,
Lt. Rhiana (ree-ah-NAY) i'Ramnau Khellian, Lt. Shiarrael i'Ramnau Pardek and the four security guards detailed to us, with us. We also have the Cloaking Device for the Charon safely aboard.” She paused, “Have you heard if the rest of my team has checked in? They were not with us when your command to abandon ship sounded.”

Sienae then passed the com to the highest ranking crewman of the security team so he could report in.

Stardate: 2374.09.03
USS Cerberus - Deck 5, 1030 hours

Leaving engineering on deck 1 Shiarrael, steps out of the door and takes a few steps when she notices that the guard that usually follows her was missing. (Where is my tail?) She will press the com badge and say,

=/\\\\= Please put me through to the Officer of the day in the Security department.=/\\\\=

When the officer of the day answers. Shiarrael, who had continued to walk towards the Jefferies Tubes, will reply.

=/\\\\= This is Lieutenant Shiarrael i'Ramnau Pardek of the RSN, The guard that normally follows me is missing, Can you please inform him or her that I’m on my way to the Mess Hall on deck 3. I will be using Jefferies Tube number 4 if they want to meet me there. I will be using the same route as yesterday. That is all. =/\\\\=

That part done she will go to tube #4 as she approaches she notices a rather slovenly heavyset human with unshaved cheeks, bloodshot eyes and a dirty uniform slouch out of the same tube she was going to. Seeing such a MESSY person Shiarrael will back up and give him plenty of room to pass (Eeewww) (and as a result backs into Anderson who was running over to catch up with her) a quick side step to let the force of Anderson’s hurried pace pass by her AND put more space between that messy human in engineering gold and herself.

An out of breath “pardon me ma’am” from Anderson will greet her ears.

Watching the technician slouch his way towards engineering (there is no way such a disgrace would have been allowed in ANY engine room she ran) she will turn towards Anderson.

“Next time you feel the need to leave, please arrange to have your post covered before hand this way you can not be accused of not carrying out your assigned duties”

With that said she will change to another Jefferies Tube.

‘Why are you changing the route Lieutenant?”

“I do not want to use the same device that, that….disgusting creature just used, it is not my place to question the kind of personnel a Star Fleet caption allows onboard his ship. But that person is a disgrace to Star Fleet and all personnel who wear the gold of engineering”

With that said she will turn on her PAD and write a quick note to the Centurion about not letting that messy human ANY where near the cloaking device, she does not want any debris from IT in the device, no telling what may happen and is there any way to get it barred from engineering in general? As the left stopped at the appropriate floor she hits the send key to send it on its way.

As they step out onto deck 3 and approach the door to the Mess Hall they could hear an argument in full swing.

Opening the door will reveal Sub-Lieutenant S'Tokkr e’Dorek`a Deletham yelling at his security tail.

“I do NOT need anyone following me around everywhere I go so leave me alone! This is the last time I’m telling you this. If you do not quit following me I’ll”

“You will do what? SUB-Lieutenant S'Tokkr e’Dorek`a Deletham”

Shiarrael had straightened up to Ram rod straight and assumed a very serious manner and appearance, quit at odds to her normal relaxed manner, her quite voice will cut across his tirade with deadly precision. Looking at him full in the face, with unblinking eyes. One eyebrow lifting up is the only movement on her face.
“Do I need to remind you that we are guests onboard this ship? It is not your place to question the orders from a Ship’s Commander. To do so invites a quick trip to the airlock without any protective gear, Or to become the target of a Phaser squad on the practice range. You owe the security guard assigned to you and the ships commander an apology and I would suggest that you stay in your quarters until farther notice. Do I make myself clear Sub-Lieutenant S'Tokkr e’Dorek`a Deletham?”

She will continue to stare at him with unblinking eyes noticing that he is swaying, and sweating. “Are you Drunk?” she will ask in a dangerous voice, “Because if you are there will be hell to pay sub-lieutenant”

“No I’m Not drunk Lieutenant, The only drinks I have had is some coffee” as he fidgets a bit more.

“Just some Coffee? Tell me just how much COFFEE did you drink and what was added to it?”

“About 10 to 12 beakers, just coffee with sugar and what is it to you? Why are you poking your nose into what I drink while off duty?” He is sweating a bit more and is looking a bit pale.

“Well now Sub-Lieutenant I do believe you need to pay a visit to the Ships doctor. I have just received a message as have you had, that it is now time for us to get examined by him and his agents. I do believe that you just volunteered to be the first vict….um patient.” As she said the last part an evil grin slowly developed. S'Tokkr was not in engineering when the “good doctor” ran down the captain, so had no idea what he was in for.

“No I do not need to pay a visit to the doctor, I feel fine” with that he straightens up will push past her heading to the door. But somehow, he ended up facing the floor. As he gets up Shiarrael will not give him an assisting hand up.

Disgruntled, S’Tokkr gets back up and turns to walk out the door Shiarrael will follow closely so that when he moves to shove another person out of his way, and he does, he will again end up “Kissing the deck”

“I know you like space ships, but kissing the deck is something you should not do in public, People will start to think you are a bit strange.”

The evil smile has not yet left her face. And her voice is as sweet as honey she adds.

“You are going to sick bay NOW I will walk you there myself since I do not believe, you are able to reach it on your own”

she will help him up this time keeping a firm hold his arm with both hands (one hand on the lower arm and the other on the upper arm) her ever present PADD goes under her arm, she will steer him to the door. In the process she mentally notes the number of disappointed looks and a couple of grins from the ones who caught on as to how he went down both times.

“Anderson Can you please show us the shortest route to Sick bay? And will you ummm what is your name?” she asked the officer who was assigned to follow S’Tokkr.

“Clark ma’am” is the reply she gets,

“Thank you Clark, if you can, please hold his other arm? We do not need any more mishaps along the way” in that fashion they make their way to sick bay. Getting more then a few odd looks from people passing by the odd group. S’Tokkr struggles a bit, but with both arms held it does him no good.

When the door opens into sickbay the Good Doctor will see a female romulan and a human male security officer restraining a male romulan who is looking pale, is a bit twitchy and is sweating.

Ensign Braff looked up expectantly from the article he'd been perusing across the Federation Medical Relay as the door hydraulics sounded. To his credit, his raised eyebrows were the only indication that he was surprised at the guests. Moving around the counter, he motioned to one of the nurses, indicating that she should join him in meeting the Romulan's and the security staffer.

“I believe he is suffering from too much coffee and he might need to be restrained till it wears off, if it does not kill him first. Are you able to help with this type of issue?” The female Romulan politely ask while still smiling.

"Coffee?" Braff's brow furrowed. "Are you sure?"

"It doesn't matter whether she's sure, or not, Ensign Braff," Jon Hash emerged from his sequestered preparations, a scowl on his face. "What matters, is if you're capable of an iota of clear thought."

Lt. Hash eyed the patient with narrowed eyes for a second before motioning towards one of the monitoring beds against the wall.

"Put his twitchy butt down there," Jon growled and watched as the security personnel led the female Romulan in depositing the afflicted male on the slate gray bed. After the man had laid back, his pale face drawn in consternation, Hash glanced at the still Braff, actually performing a double take before resting his disbelieving stare on his subordinate.

"Oh, you aren't just standing there staring like some teen punk seeing a pretty little thing in her bathing suit for the first time, mouth all uh-open, eyes uh-buggin'! Get over there, and turn on the bioscans. By the Klingon gods! I'm surrounded by impotence!"

Striding across the floor to the bed side, Hash did just as he'd instructed Braff to do, beating him to the deal by mere seconds.

"It's a wonder you Romulans even have an empire--brought down by coffee. Why the Federation never used caffeine pills to bring our wars to an end, I'll never know." Jon turned to the female Romulan apparently completely unaware that he'd just insulted everything about the Romulans. "You can skidattle, Miss Romulan. I'll take ree-eel good care of your man."

As far as Hash was concerned, he was done. The ill Romulan's vitals were fine, Braff would get him on a drug shortly to give him an even keel, and Jon wanted as little to do with the Romulans as possible, so as soon as he'd determined that his subordinates could handle things, he strode purposefully back into his office, intent on ignoring the remaining Romulan.

"Uh," Braff smiled awkwardly at the Romulan and security officer. "I'll--um--I'll let you know when he's stabilized."

“Thank you Ensign Braff” she will reply with a polite half bow to the Ensign she will add “Sub-Lieutenant S'Tokkr e’Dorek`a Deletham does not belong to me, he is not a slave. I will report to the centurion that he is in sickbay.” with a glance in the direction the Doctor had disappeared she will then turn to leave the room.

Stardate: 2374.09.05
Charon - Bridge– 22:19 hours

((ooc: assuming it took only moments for the Cap to give the order to Mas'Riat))

"Warp six, Lt. Mas'Riat."
Mas'Riat nodded once. "Engaging, Captin," she replied, her voice far steadier than her insides, which quivered.

The panels before her, lit and glowing, were entirely foreign to her. All those test runs she had performed, she had done so having configured the controls to her memory, to those of the stolen craft she'd escaped in, and this was defintiely different.

But it wasn't alien to her. There was something there, in the layout and the concept, that she understood, something that called to her. Something that called to her past, and she felt the cold, dead hands of Davorious Tek upon the back of her neck, felt the roughened skin of the jem'Hadar hands that had punished her for so many years, and she burned.

Her fingers played over the controls, sliding over the touch-screen panels before her as Cathica Mas'riat, unfamiliar with Starfleet ships and protocol, distanced herself from emotion. she became only thought, only impulse, and through half-closed eyes felt herself shift mentally, felt herself becoming something entirely different.

She seethed.

No longer were the digits on her hand mere fingers, they became the conduit, and she transferred all purpose through them.

Mas'Riat felt the ship move, felt it push through the darkness of space, gaining momentum as the conrols were manipulated. The screens fed her information, displayed her new path.

She watched as they hit Warp Six, and stared at the large screen ahead of her, where the stars were butmemories. THey moved too fast for the light, too fast for memory. She felt the hand of Davorious Tek release her throat, and she breathed again.

Stardate 2374.09.03 - 0601 hours
USS Cerberus - Bridge
Duncan kept a watchful eye on all Engineering status boards as umbilicals were detached and the Cerberus became fully self-sufficient. All boards still showed green and fully operational as the captain called for a status report.

“Stations conf’rm green status,” Captain MacTavish barked.

Tactical and Ops confirmed readiness, then Duncan chimed in "Engineering confirmed."

He continued to monitor his boards as everyone reported their readiness. And at MacTavish's command, the Cerberus began her slow and graceful exit from spacedock. The thrusters purred like a kitten as the ship got her legs and began to move off. Duncan couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and jubilation as the journey began. This is it! he thought excitedly to himself. This is what it's all about.
He looked around and saw the same barely-contained excitement on the faces of the bridge crew, and even the Romulans looked proud to be a part of the moment. The doctor looked less than thrilled, but Duncan guessed that everyone was entitled to their own opinion.

“We’ve cleared the pylons, Captain,” Vaela stated as she continued to enter data into her console.

“Entair course, an’ engage, Ensign. Warp four,” Mac leaned forward slightly.

“Aye, Sir.”

Duncan watched warp core output carefully as the ship leapt to warp speed, and sure enough, the core and the warp engines performed beautifully, propelling the ship forward at speeds once thought impossible.

He watched his board for a few more moments to make sure that everything was still operating normally, and upon noting with satisfaction that it was, he got up from his seat.

"I'll be in Engineering, Captain," he said as he headed for the turbolift.

"Aye, where else w'ld ye be?" MacTavish retorted.

Duncan chuckled as he left the main floor, and was suddenly stopped by Centurion Sienae.

"Lt. Commander Cameron I do need to meet with you, say, two days from now, in the evening; that will allow time for things to set settled into a routine. I wish to discuss with you the modifications that we have made to the Cloaking Device."

"That will be fine, ma'am," Duncan replied. "A fine piece of machinery you have there. I look forward to it."

He returned the slight nod she gave him, and continued into the turbolift. I'll check in on the team, set up a proper shift rotation...then it's time for some sleep. He hadn't slept in almost 48 hours, and he was tired despite the excitement.

Stardate 2374.09.04 - 0800 hours
USS Cerberus - Engineering
Duncan was already re-evaluating shift rotations as he addressed the crewman standing before him. He had been reviewing the personnel files on his Engineering staff, and he had noted some distressing entries regarding this one. It seemed that Crewman Stan Stowbreiski here couldn't see fit to put on a clean uniform or even take a shower for that matter, an allegation that was borne out true enough by the odor currently assaulting Duncan's nostrils. Good thing I skipped breakfast, he thought as his olfactory nerves slapped him in the head for making them endure this abuse.

"Crewman Stowbreiski...I'm not sure what standards you've been operating by up to this point, but your appearance...and your hygiene...are unacceptable. I've had several complaints from your fellow staff about it. I hate to get into your personal habits, but we're on a starship, mister. It's close quarters, and you have an obligation to keep up some sort of personal hygiene regimen so as not to offend those you work with. I'll try to respect your personal freedoms up to a point and assign you to the less populated areas of the ship until you address the issue."

Duncan could have sworn he saw satisfaction in the crewman's face at this pronouncement.

"That doesn't, however, excuse you from said obligation. Now I have a lot to do over the next few days, but you and I will meet tomorrow night, at say 1700 hours, to see if we can't address this and make everyone happy." He figured he could get the meeting out of the way relatively quickly and still have plenty of time to meet with the Centurion.

"Dismissed."

Duncan noted the indifference on the crewman's face as he departed, and made a mental note to have a word with Stowbreiski about his attitude as well. My God, he thought. As if I don't have enough to do without teaching Bathing 101 to Crewman Homeless over there. But other matters occupied his attention at the moment, and his nose was so grateful that the man was leaving that he didn't give it much more thought.

He called up a staff rotation list on his PADD, and made the necessary changes to keep himself and Stowbreiski out of Engineering at the same time until he had his meeting with the man. He then proceeded to the Engineering conference chamber for the scheduled meeting with his first-shift staff about the captain's concerns.

Stardate 2374.09.05 - 1515 hours
USS Cerberus - Deck 2, Conference Room
Duncan took his break in the vacant conference room, enjoying a cup of coffee and going over Engineering reports on his PADD.

Everything seemed to be coming together nicely. Over the past couple of days, he and his team had managed to address just about all of the minor engineering problems that afflicted the ship, and had even been able to make some improvements. They had cut the cloaking device's power drain by over fifteen percent, and he looked forward to reporting that to Centurion Sienae during their meeting this evening.

Duncan himself had made some modifications to the EPS management system based on the theories put forth at the conference at Starbase 7, and the result was a 12-percent increase in its efficiency. Figura had made good contributions to increasing warp core output capacity, and a satisfactory regimen had been put in place for shutting down power to unused parts of the ship and having the Tactical and Weapons sytems operating at above-peak readiness and capacity. All in all, the Cerberus Engineering department was at the top of its game. Hell, even the impending meeting with Crewman Stinkbomb only seemed a minor irritation at this point.

Duncan sipped his coffee and laid the PADD down for a moment, gazing out the conference room windows at the stars slipping by. Well, seems like we're off to a good start, he thought. He had reported the positive status updates about the ship's battle readiness to the captain earlier in the day, and MacTavish seemed grudgingly pleased. I wish Scotty and the captain could have met, he mused. They would have--
His thoughts were interrupted by a shudder running through the ship, and the gentle thrum of the warp core suddenly changed. He got up, tossed his coffee cup in the recycler, and was already in the corridor when the jolt of what could only be an explosion jarred him to the side. It was immediately followed by the harsh klaxon of a Red Alert.

He began sprinting down the corridor, and was overtaken by Commander Rrowl just as he entered the turbolift. "Bridge!" Duncan shouted at the computer. As the 'lift began to move, he looked at Rrowl. "Any idea what's going on?"

The hulking Kzinti shook his fearsome-looking head. "Doubtless we are about to find out," he growled.

They emerged into barely-controlled chaos. Damage reports echoed across the bridge, orders and replies fighting to be heard over the blaring klaxons.

Duncan just caught the tail end of Montague's frantic report to MacTavish over at the Engineering console. "Negative, sir!" he heard Montague yell. "The ejection sequence isn't responding!"

Monatague saw him coming and quickly stepped aside as he approached the console. Taking the readings in with a glance, Duncan saw that the warp core was going critical, and they had less than a minute before it blew. He saw that the ejection systems were indeed offline, and his fingers flew over the console in a blur born of desperation as he tried to bypass the ejection safeguards and eject the core manually. It still refused to eject. He tried to erect an emergency forcefield around the core, but that also failed. What the Hell is going on here?! he wondered frantically. There's no way all these systems could have failed all at once!
There was no more time. He turned to MacTavish with a look of frantic despair in his eyes. "Captain, we're lookin' at a breach in 30 seconds! There's nothing I can do!"

Duncan saw MacTavish look around with fire in his eyes, but the captain wasted no time. "This is yer cap’ain speakin’,” MacTavish said with a touch of grimness to his tone as he activated the ship-wide relay. “This is no’ a drill. Abandon ship wit’ pos’ haste. I repea’ this is no’ a drill.”

As the computer began issuing the Abandon Ship commands, Duncan grimly recalled evacuation procedures he had hoped to never use and ran for the escape pod hatch, along with the rest of the bridge crew.

Everything that happened afterward was a blur: the sealing of the pod, the jolt of launch, the blinding light of the explosion that killed the Cerberus. The tortured comments of the other bridge crew members and the subdued communication from the other pods were lost on Duncan as he raged within. Not again! Please, God, not again!
Horrible memories of the Bozeman, the Excalibur, the Battle of Sector 001, and now the death of so many again, the death of the Cerberus...

Duncan floated in a sea of despair, just as the lonely pod floated in the black sea of space.

Stardate: 2374.09.05
USS Charon - CTOs Office – 22:18 hours
Lt Cmdr Talon was sitting before his terminal looking over the security procedures he was implementing to handle the presence of the Romulans being aboard the ship. He had a security detail assigned and a rotation schedule set, it all looked good to him. He had extra security assigned to key locations throughout the ship. He nodded his approval as he hit the button to finalize it and send it to his junior officers so they could inform their subordinates.

/--\\\\\\\\ This is Captain Gavison… Report to your stations. We are leaving berth. I repeat: report to your stations immediately. The Charon will be under way in less than fifteen minutes, or I’ll skin the man holding me up.” /--\\\\\\\\
Talon frowned and stood up quickly, this was not good. He strode from the room headed to the turbo lift for the bridge wondering what had happened to make the Captain change plans so suddenly.


Stardate: 2374.09.05
USS Charon - Bridge – 22:19 hours
He stepped out of the turbo lift and stepped to the tactical station dismissing the junior officer there who turned to leave the bridge. He was just in time for the Captain briefing on what was going on.

“Our sister ship in this mission has gone missing, and we’re going to find her,” he began over the intraship communications. “As of 15:17 hours this afternoon, the Cerberus was reported missing. There has been no communication from her, or any of her crew, since. This ship is now in yellow alert and will remain so until further notice.”

Ending his broadcast, Kel looked over his senior staff. “I don’t know what awaits us when we get there, so be on your game.

“Warp six, Lt. Mas’Riat.”
Talon was stunned for a moment, the Cerebeus was out of communication? Something had happened; The Romulans. This was of course his first thought and he had no compunction about speaking his mind.

Mas'Riat nodded once. "Engaging, Captain," she replied
“Captain?” Talon began, “you think it could be the Romulans? Maybe they sabotaged the ship?” All kinds of thoughts raced through his own mind but that one kept coming to the forefront. The ship might be lost, or maybe only damaged, either way he could not rule out the one factor that stood out to him; Romulans are not to be trusted.

(Room for interaction)

"All tactical and weapons stationed standing by sir." Talon reported as he checked his ready board.

Stardate: 2374.09.05
The Charon – Bridge – 22:19 hours “Captain?” Talon began, “you think it could be the Romulans? Maybe they sabotaged the ship?”

Kel’s face remained the tight, furious expression that he’d been wearing since his meeting with Sisko. He’d been running scenarios through his head; scenarios born of vivid imagination, experience, and hatred. He’d already played it out: the Romulans installing the “cloaking device”, securing their escape route through one of the pods, and then incinerating all political relations with the Federation with one click of a button—or one countdown timer. It was inevitable with his history, and no amount of dismissal from Benjamin Sisko could alleviate that particular gut feeling. All the same, he had a responsibility. He had to grudgingly admit the responsibility to his crew to keep an open mind; even if it was nothing more than appearance. As the captain, if he established a preconceived notion in the minds of his subordinates, they would more than likely follow suite. Despite his desire to put all of the blame on the shoulders of those blasted pointed-eared killers, he needed the objectivity of his officers in order to survive.

“There is nothing to indicate that the Romulans had anything to do with…this. Hell, there’s nothing indicating what happened.

“We go in with our eyes wide open, people. We find out where Mac and his crew are, and we bring them home. Make sure that weapons are fully operational, Talon. Mr. Kato, I want our scanners tested in full. Science is going to likely be performing both long range, and short range scans of various types. The Cerberus has vanished from Starfleet sensors…Whatever caused that will be our responsibility to uncover.”

Stardate: 2374.09.06
The Charon – Bridge – 12:08 hours
The view screen showed the black, emptiness of space with all too much reflection of Kelsey’s insides. Where is she? he wondered as he peered out into the inky blackness. This region of space seemed particularly empty for the lack of the Cerberus.

“Talk to me, people,” Kelsey intoned in a voice that was nearly a growl. “What are the long range scans telling us? Where’s Mac?”