Stardate 2374.09.05, 22:05 hours
Communication from Admiral Long at Starfleet Academy to Captain Gavison USS Charon
The Starfleet emblem flashed on the screen and then the image of Admiral Long came into view. He was an older man of Asian heritage, black hair greying at the temples and combed back neatly from his brow. There were deep wrinkles around his almond shaped eyes, and tonight there were also large dark circles underneath them. He was not dressed in his bright red uniform, but instead had on a black kimono and the back ground appeared to be his private quarters.

He cleared his throat slightly and then spoke.

"Captain Gavison. I have just been informed that the USS Cerberus has fallen out of communication and scan views and that your bird has taken on the mission of finding out why. Normally I would not take any action in a situation like this, being the Commander of the Academy it is not my place, and I am not currently taking an official action in this matter. I am sending you this on a purely personal level. My niece, Ensign Sojourn Lyvette was aboard the USS Cerberus..."

And here he pauses slightly, his face construing into a tight grimace.

"She wasn't even supposed to have been assigned to that ship, administrative error, and I assure you that situation is getting sorted out, but that is another matter." He shook his head and then continued.

"I realize that she is not the only soul aboard that ship, by any means, and that all of their lives are important. For you I am sure her life means no less or more than any other crew member, for me I cannot say the same. All I am asking of you Captain Gavison is to do your best on this mission. And that when you find her, to please have her contact me immediately. One further thing, as I said her assignment to Cerberus was a mistake, and I am having orders reissued for her, so as soon as possible please have her transfered to the nearest Star Base so she can receive her new orders. I hope my requests will not infringe with your mission.

Thank You.
Out"

The image of Admiral Long was replaced with his 'signature' under the emblem of Starfleet Academy.

Stardate 09.05.2374 – 1540 hours
USS Cerberus ASRV-83964:E-001
Mac clasped a hand to the girl’s shoulder, gave a gentle, reassuring squeeze, and left it at that. “Et’ll be a’right, Ensign,” he whispered, “Keep yer mind en th’ ‘ere an’ now, lass, an’ ever’then’ll be jus’ bloody brilliant.” With that, Captain MacTavish left the fresh from Frisco Ensign to her centering and moved to assist the rest where he could.
She was still too embarrassed to turn around, but had been drastically surprised when the Captain had not yelled at her. The moment she had started to loose her cookies she was certain that he would rip her a new one like he had the CEO. However, she was glad that he hadn't, even though her stomach was empty she was pretty certain she would have found some stomach acid left to spew on his shoes if he had. Instead he had tried to comfort her a little, and that did help.

She finished off the glass of water, then put it on the replicator and asked for another glass. Finishing half of that she then took a deep breath, smoothed out the front of her uniform, now wrinkled and damp from sweat, and turned around. By now everyone was busy working at the task MacTavish had assigned them, but there might have been a few glances in her direction even still.

Her knees were weak so she still grabbed ahold of things and moved slowly but soon found herself in a chair sitting in front of the computer.

"I'll start scanning the area, see if there is anyone else out here with us..." she said to Rowrl in a shaky voice.

The first few commands she tried to type into the computer came out wrong. She closed her eyes and took another deep breath then tried again and finally managed to begin the scans of the area.

The rest of the day was like that, scanning and scanning, reporting to Rowrl every now and then that there was nothing but the other pods. With every report feeling a mix of emotions. They were vulnerable in those pods she knew, so seeing that there was nothing meant that nothing was going to attack them. Then again on the other hand seeing nothing also meant that there was no rescue ship yet, that they were floating in space stuck in these bubbles.

Occasionally she would get up and get a cup of chamomile tea, or saltine crackers from the replicator. And with her slight shaking that just wouldn't fully go away she ended up with a pile of cracker crumbs on her lap and little wet spots where she spilled the tea now and then (somehow though she managed not to spill any on the computer, only her lap). Waiting for one scan she stared into the steaming cup of tea in her lap and commented to no one in particular,

"You know... on earth, they make Chamomile tea by seeping the petals of Chamomile flowers in hot water. The technique was first done in China......" and then her voice drifted off as she took another sip.

Stardate 09.06.2374 – 1220 hours
USS Cerberus ASRV-83964:E-001
=/\\\\= Incoming vessel detected=/\\\\= the computer intoned, =/\\\\= Starfleet transponder signature detected. =/\\\\=

Lyvette had stepped away from the controls and was curled up into a tiny ball trying to take a small break and get some sleep on one of the chairs when the message rang through the pod. Blinking her eyes she sat up a little straighter, not fully uncoiling yet.

Duncan quickly reviewed the information on the screen and couldn't contain the excitement in his voice as he turned to MacTavish; "By God, they found us, sir! It's the Charon!"
Oh thank heaven! She thought to herself and actually perked up some for the first time. Finishing off her uncoiling act she stood up and without even having to be ordered when back to the controls. She ran a quick scan of the survival systems of the little pod to make sure everything was still stable and then continued to do scans of the area to make sure no one was sneaking up behind them to ruin their rescue while she waited.

Stardate 09.05.2374 – approx 1830 to 09.06.2374 0600 hours
ASRV-83964:E-025, deployed from USS Cerberus

Shiarrael was reading a download of the technical manual of a Saber Class Starship. To familiarize herself with the type of ship the CD was going to be installed on, when she heard Lopez yell “Look out!”

Looking up from her spot on the floor by the foot of the Pod’s door (not enough seats in this 6 person shoebox for 8 people) She was in time to see Anderson trip on the GravSled that held the CD for the Charon and partially land on the Centurion. S’Talon grabbed Anderson and jerked him up and away from Sienae telling him something and then ordering “Rhiana, get the medical kit.”

Shiarrael turned and opened the compartment she was leaning against pulling out the medical kit and handed it to Rhiana as she rushed past her to get to the now slumped Centurion while S’Talon got her laid out flat on the floor.

Anderson then spoke for a little a bit to Captain MacTavish over the com. While Rhiana administered some medication to the obviously in pain Centurion, Shiarrael will get up from her spot and will open up one of the chairs into the sleeping position as flat as it will go and get out of the way as Anderson and S’Talon accompanied by Rhiana placed the now un-conscience Centurion on the chair/bed.

“I swear Anderson that you have 2 left feet. That is the 3rd time today you have tripped on the corner of the GravSled, just try to be more careful” Shiarrael will tell Anderson as he carefully maneuvered around the large obstacle of the CD.

After the Centurion was settled down, Shiarrael will resume her study of the Saber Class Starship. While sitting on the floor by the door. At least she is learning just how much power the Federation ships used, and just how much of that power was wasted. Already she was working out how best to maximize the function of the ship systems when she fell asleep.

Stardate 09.05.2374 – 1800 hours
USS Cerberus ASRV-83964:E-001


Commander Rrowl was in a terrible mood. Considering the current situation - trapped in a metallic casket with a handful of stinking monkeys - it was to be expected.

The kzinti officer had been elated with the original discovery that he had been assigned to MacTavish's command, and was well pleased to learn of their mission. Rrowl had neever assumed that the mission would go as planned; there would almost certianly be a chance to do glorious battle with Domionion forces, and he relished the thought.

Unfortunately, everything had gone downhill from there.

First, learning of the foul Romulans - Romulans! - that were to be assigned to the Cerberus. Then the true indignity of having to tolerate that sthondat of a Centurion, and her arrogant, pompous manner of ordering starfleet personnel - and his own men! - around as if she had any authority to do so. Fortune had smiled upon that kshat, of that there was no doubt - had they been under command of the Patriarchy, Rrowl would have long ago torn out her throat to the joyous applause of the crew.

Now, the Cerberus was destroyed, almost certainly due to sabotage. Rrowl had lost most of his department, including Valberg - a fine warrior, even if a human. Technically, the man deserved to die, Rrowl supposed; security was his personal charge, and if the ship had indeed been sabotaged, then Valberg had failed in that charge. Still, Rrowl was certain that the man, like the kzinti, would have vastly preferred a death in battle at the hands of Dominion forces rather than an ignoble end he had suffered. The big cat was of the opinion that he had deserved that chance, but a traitor had taken it from him.

With little to do but keep an eye on the pitifully poor sensor readings, Rrowl spent most of his time stewing on his anger inside of the cramped ASRV. If not for the stink of the humans, Rrowl would not have particularly minded the quarters themselves; Kzinti ships were notoriously cramped and small when comapared to those of the Federation; even the spartan cabins of the Cerberus had seemed large in contrast. However, sharing space with several of the monkeys highlighted the smells of their sweat and fear, and it rankled the kzinti's senses.

As Rrowl continued to stew, the message from the Romulans came in. The TAC chief could not help but overhear, and what he did hear made him shake with fury. To his credit, Rrowl waited until the communication had been cut before addressing MacTavish.

"Captain," he hissed the moment the link was broken, "surely you cannot take this kshat at her word?"

Enraged, Rrowl explained. "First, she freely admits that the Romulans" - the last word is spat - "could very well be responsible for the destruction of the Cerberus. Naturally, she denies any direct implication - as if we would expect her to say anything else!"

Seething, the kzinti continued, his tail lashing back and forth behind him. "I find it extremely convenient, captain, that this prat'ska already has a suspect in mind with nothing but the logs of the destruction and the reports of her own people as evidence! Even if this man is the one responsible, how would she know it, but that she is involved?"

The accusation spoken, Rrowl held his tongue. He wanted nothing more than to suggest that, if they were rescued, MacTavish see to it that life support on the Romulan pod were disabled. The Federation engineers and scientists could make the other cloaking device work - monkeys were nothing if not incredibly adept with devices. Unfortunately, he knew that such a reasonable precaution would never be accepted, and so, there was no point in making the argument.

Stardate 09.05.2374 – 1802 hours
USS Cerberus ASRV-83964:E-001 "Captain," he hissed the moment the link was broken, "surely you cannot take this kshat at her word?"

Enraged, Rrowl explained. "First, she freely admits that the Romulans" - the last word is spat - "could very well be responsible for the destruction of the Cerberus. Naturally, she denies any direct implication - as if we would expect her to say anything else!"

Seething, the kzinti continued, his tail lashing back and forth behind him. "I find it extremely convenient, captain, that this prat'ska already has a suspect in mind with nothing but the logs of the destruction and the reports of her own people as evidence! Even if this man is the one responsible, how would she know it, but that she is involved?
Curie sat still in her chair and listened, first to what the Centurion had to say (the whole pod could hear), and then what Rrowl had to say in response (likely even the Centurion could hear that loud pissed off growl). Her brow furrowed into a tight little knot when he finished. This wasn’t a science laboratory, and she wasn’t working on the genetic coding of some ancient flower, but she felt deep down in her guts that the same laws of logic, causation, and hypothesis still applied. Her mind worked furiously with the situation at hand, actually glad to have something interesting to think about, and ran itself into a wall at Rrowl’s comments.

Turning in her chair she faced the captain and the large cat like thing before her. She didn’t stand up, feeling for certain that her legs would not support her. In her lap she gripped the cup of luke warm tea in a death grip that threatened to implode the contents all over her, and she took a deep shaky breath.

“Sir…” and who that sir was directed at remained a mystery even to herself, “this may be a form of insubordination… and if it is I again apologize, however…” Her voice came out small and shaky at first. “Rrowl’s conclusion is fallible.”

That having been said she took a deep breath, the worst was over, now she had to get in her point before she was trampled, so she quickly let out the breath and started in on a small discourse with speedy words, all the while gripping her cup.

“To begin with, the Centurion did not admit that her crew could have been responsible for the disaster. Instead she stated that she felt that she would be considered one of the most likely suspects, and that she understood why that was. Second, she did not list this man of terrible hygiene habits as a likely suspect… instead she merely reported an incident that her crew found odd enough to report. In this I find her actions to actually be commendable. While I was puking she had enough of a sound mind to look into the matter herself, questioning her own people as to any unusual activity that they could remember. Even having the ingenuity to record the questioning. This is probably an action that the highest ranking official in each of the pods should have already engaged in. While it is likely that each and every one of us will again be questioned once we have been rescued, having those initial inquires recorded will only be of beneficial help in solving this horrific crime. Furthermore… as it is looking like the destruction of our ship has been due to sabotage it would likely be in the best interest of a rescue vessel to secure all of us survivors, we are all under suspect, not just the Romulans. It is my understanding that this crew was generally unfamiliar with each other having just been brought together for this mission. I myself only arrived a mere two days ago, just minutes before launching… The Romulans on board only complicates this investigation, as they might have their own agenda for causing a catastrophe and ending relations between the fleet and the Romulans, however I would bet that the Romulans are not the only one’s that would be interested in breaking that truce… and framing the destruction of a starship on them might likely do the trick…”

She took another huge breath and sunk back into her chair, her moment of bravery now over since she had said her bit.

“In my opinion that is… “ and bit her bottom lip, bracing herself slightly for whatever response might come.

Rhiana was sitting in one of the pods seat just trying to keep out of the way. A grilling by S'Talon while not torturous as it could have been and a it still might be was certainly not a desirable activity.

Rhiana kept racking her brains for the slightest item of information she could wring out of her own brain. A vary capable brain it was with one useful trick. She could with concentration remember everything she had sensed. However it meant going into a kind of focused meditation to replay events. She could not afford to skip though any of it and be thorough. She was in this state of concentration when she was suddenly disturbed.

"Get the medical kit"

Rhiana snapped out of her self-induced trance state and quickly ascertained what was needed by whom. She was probably the closest thing to a doctor on board this pod.

The Centrion was grimacing in acute pain. Shiarrael had grabbed out the first aid kit from somewhere. Leave it to her to know where things were.

"What happened?" She asked and she took out the small medical tri-corder and took readings. Just then the Centurion passes out. Not a good sign but perhaps for the best right now.

(replies.)

Rhiana takes the med-kit from Shiarrael's hand and opens it up to see what was in there for the pain. Taking out the Injector she slipped in a healthy dose of the pain killer and then one of muscle relaxant after set the proper dosage. She placed the ejector near the carotid artery in the Centurion's neck. That would get in flowing were it needs as fast as was possible under the circumstance.

Rhiana stays and monitors the Centurion's condition. Perhaps she should have stayed the course and finished up her doctor's degree, although she most likely would not have ended up here and now in any event. She would have to wait to finish her perusal of her own memories until later.

"S'Talon, I gave her a dose pain killer and muscle relaxant That should do the trick, but I will monitor her condition until she is awake again."

Stardate 09.05.2374 – 1800 hours
USS Cerberus ASRV-83964:E-001
Ef et’s no’ one fargin’ theng et’s a bloody nother, Jack MacTavish groused as he closed the comm channel to the Romulans pod.

"Captain," Rrowl hissed, almost in tandem with the tone indicating the channel had been closed, "surely you cannot take this kshat at her word?"

Mac could tell by the kzinti’s tone that he was a fair sight more than angry… an’ sure no’ ‘appy wi’ ‘avin’ tae be stoofed inta a wee metal box wi’ a bunch o’ monkeys, aye?… even before he turned to face his CTO and, by default, acting XO. Folding his hands behind his back, MacTavish turned and calmly took in Rrowl’s posture – the angrily lashing tail, the pinned back ears, and the savage, toothy snarl – then took a step forward into the big cat’s space and evenly met Rrowl’s firey gaze but said nothing… the firm set of the jaw and the unwavering focus of his eyes said enough… Anythin’ else, Mester Rrowl?
"First, she freely admits that the Romulans," the Kzinti spit out the word as if it fould his tongue to speak it, "could very well be responsible for the destruction of the Cerberus. Naturally, she denies any direct implication - as if we would expect her to say anything else!

I find it extremely convenient, captain,” the seething kzinti continued, his tail lashing back and forth behind him, “that this prat'ska already has a suspect in mind with nothing but the logs of the destruction and the reports of her own people as evidence! Even if this man is the one responsible, how would she know it, but that she is involved?"

The CTO fell into a fuming silence, then. There was obviously more on Rrowl’s mind in regards to this subject but, for whatever reason, he chose to let those remaining thoughts go unvoiced. Mac stood for a moment; his gaze still locked to the kziniti’s, waiting just long enough to ensure that Rrowl had nothing else to say, and then prepared to respond to his friend’s concerns.

“Mester Rrow…”

“Sir,” a meek voice interrupted, causing the Captain’s teeth to clench and his lips to draw into an exceedingly tight line across his face to hide that fact, “this may be a form of insubordination… and if it is I again apologize, however…”

Mac finally blinked, breaking eye contact with Rrowl, and turned to glance over his shoulder at the tiny scientist who had just recently emptied her guts. “Rrowl’s conclusion is fallible,” she stated.

Och, the Scot rumbled, taking a deep breath of his own that mirrored Lyvette’s as he slowly turned to face her now, this could bloody go on fer hours, then, coudln’et? Again, he couldn’t help but be reminded of Chatelle as, clutching her cup of tea in a manner almost identical to the way he recalled Chan cradling her cup of cocoa. The flat expression on his face never changed, of course, but Mac’s heart couldn’t help but smile – perhaps a bit sadly – as he eyed the young ensign and allowed her to continue.

“To begin with, the Centurion did not admit that her crew could have been responsible for the disaster. Instead she stated that she felt that she would be considered one of the most likely suspects, and that she understood why that was.”

He was pretty sure Lyvette had yet to take a breath.

“Second, she did not list this man of terrible hygiene habits as a likely suspect… instead she merely reported an incident that her crew found odd enough to report. In this I find her actions to actually be commendable…”

Behind him, Mac felt Rrowl tense… the Kzinti already felt as if his honor had been violated and now this she-monkey of a scientist was actually commending the enemy?... and so took another strategic step to keep himself between the two… There’s no’ any sense en ‘avin’ tae explain why Rrowl et yer ‘ead, lass, he thought, Sure an’ I ‘ope ye’ll be able tae qualify tha’…
Ensign Lyvette, as Mac had come to expect from the blue-suited lot, did, in fact, qualify each of her arguments and opinions as she proceeded, at length, with her logical break down of the situation.

“…The Romulans on board only complicates this investigation, as they might have their own agenda for causing a catastrophe and ending relations between the fleet and the Romulans, however I would bet that the Romulans are not the only one’s that would be interested in breaking that truce,” Lyvette sounded as if her analysis might be reaching it’s conclusion, “and framing the destruction of a starship on them might likely do the trick.”

She took another huge breath and sunk back into her chair. “In my opinion that is,” she added quickly, biting her bottom lip and bracing herself slightly for whatever response might come.

Mac had yet to move and, for a long moment, the only noticeable change in his stance or expression at all had been a half-amused arching of one brow and a half-irritated lowering of the other. His teeth clenched as his steel-eyed gaze shifted from Lyvette to Rrowl and, then, over the rest of those packed into the tiny pod before he offered a scarcely perceptible nod. “Th’ pair o’ ye’re finished, then, aye,” he rumbled rhetorically, his gaze again ticking deliberately between the junior science officer and the TAC Chief, “Grand! Thank ye both vera much fer offerin’ up yer opinions ere I’d ev’n asked, aye?

Mester Rrowl,” he said, his eyes finding the Kziniti’s once more, “Ef ye believe fer one fargin’ second tha’ me first inclination were no’ tae try an lay this whole bloody mess a’ th’ Romulans’ doorstep, ye dinnae know me as well’s I thought ye might’ve, lad. Fairhtermore, ef ye think I’m gonna swallow tha’ lo’ o’ sap from th’ Centurion wi’oot s’much as sniffin’ th’ bottle from which she poured et, I’d say ye’ve lairned nothin’ from our years wairkin’ t’gether. Be that th’ case, Lt Commander?” Mac smiled at Rrowl just then, challenging the kzinti to lie and tell him that, yes, Rrowl figured Mac had made a tactical blunder in his ‘soft handling’ of the communiqué from the Roms’ pod, “Ef so, I rec’mmend tha’ ye relieve me o’ me command ‘ere an’ now, aye?”

As quickly as the smile had appeared so, too, did it fade from the Captain’s face. “Per’aps ye’d’ve preferred me tae cut th’ Centurion off ere she p’rvided us wi’ the information – fenger pointin’ an’ smoke blowin’ aside – tha’ she did, aye? Give ‘er a reason, ef she’s no’ ‘ad one a’ready, tae truly cause some mischief?”

Breaking eye contact with the TAC Officer before he did so, so that the kzinti wouldn't take the gesture as a threatening one, Mac reached out a hand and clasped it to one of Rrowl’s massive shoulders. “There be a twistin’ of a sayin’ on Airth, Rrowl, older’n e’en Cameron, tha’ says ef yer gonna do th’ time, ye may’s well do th’ crime,” a tilting of his head towards the pod’s viewort directed the Kzinti’s gaze to where E-025 bobbed in the black, “Ef tha’ lo’ where ta think tha’ they were tae face some kind o’ lynchin’ b’cause o wha’s just ‘appened, lad, rather’n ‘avin’ a fair chance tae mount some sort o’ defense an’ pr’sent their own evidence tae suppairt et, whaddya think th’ chances o’ them floatin’ oot there an’ jus’ waitin’ fer it tae ‘appen’d be? Slim tae go’dam none, I figger… Ye know’s well’s I, Rrowl, ‘ow th’ Romulans thenk en situations like this… ef they truly thought they were done fer, they’d’ve no’ bothered ta repairt in’t all an’ mos’ likely’d’ve a’ready been tryin’ ta inch tha’ pod oota th’ fold an inta th’ arms o’ a waitin’ Warbaird.”

Jack turned his eyes to Lyvette, then, and he studied the girl for a moment before he continued. “An’ yew, Ensign,” he sighed, “fer all o’ yer pukin’ an’ wobblin’ aboot, seem tae ‘ave been keepin’ a keen ear onnat transmission, aye? When’d ye graduate, lass?”

((Assuming something like ‘Six weeks ago, sir’ or somesuch…))

Jus’ a beebeh, Mac couldn’t help but think even as he nodded his acknowledgement, Fresh oota Frisco an’ ‘er fairst tour sends ‘er straight tae hell.
“Did ye take anythin’ beyond th’ required courses fer TAC an’ Security, then? Any o’ the count’r-insurgency er invest’gation tracks, per’aps?”

((‘Ummm.. no…sir…” or sommat))

“Nae? Are ye sure, lass,” Mac queried, “fer ye seem tae ‘ave fairly strong opinions on tactical matters… an’, fer truth, ye may’ve touched on some o’ the vera points tha’ kept me from ‘avin’ Rrowl scuttle tha’ pod tae begin wi’. Ye may’ve missed yer callin’…” he smirked and folded his arms across his chest then “…or, per’aps no’.”

His gaze flitted from face to face, again, and, after another moment, fixed his gaze on Rrowl. “Lt Commander Rrowl,” he said, “Should I be consairned aboot this Stowbrieski bloke fer no other reason than th’ Roms’ve o’er’eard ‘im misspeakin’ a tairm like ‘butterfingers’?”

(( “No, sir. Such diversions are common place and, despite the recording…etc, etc, etc”))

“Aye,” Mac nodded, his eyes flicked back to Lyvette, “true enuff. Why, then, Ensign, if ye’d care ta offer yer opinion on this tactical matter’s well, might I be inclined tae ‘ave doubts aboot this lad ef all I’ve go’ tae go on are th’ ‘ints an’ allegations stairred up by a knot o’ Romulans tha’ I’ve no’ a lot o’ trust in tae begin wi’?”

((“I… you… uh… I don’t know, sir?”))

“O’ course no’,” the Captain nodded, his gaze drifting away from the science officer to fix, now, on the CEO. “Mester Cameron,” he demanded, “Wha’ was crewman Shytepants post tae be this marnin’?”

((Something to the effect of; “He should have been in Main Engineering, sir…blahblahblah…”))

“Main Engineerin’,” Mac repeated, regarding Lyvette and Rrowl again. His stomach turned as he asked the next question; “An’ ‘ow many tha’ were en Engineerin’ a’ th’ time o’ th’ breach made et off th’ boat an’ inta an ASRV?” He heard the computer chirp as someone accessed and reviewed the records from which that answer might be derived… and waited…

“Only Stowbrieski, sir,” came the somewhat tentative answer.

“Aye. Only Stowbrieski. How inna bloody ‘ell did an’ engineer, who by all rights shoulda been kelled wi’ th’e rest o’ ‘is shift, manage tae make it tae a pod wi’ th’ Marines,” he cast a questioning but meaningful glance to the tiny crew of his own pod, “Tha’s wha’s go’ me buyin’ a bit more o’ th’ Centurion’s bit than any other, aye?

Es et suspicious tha’ the Romulans’re th’ fairst ta bring et to attention? Does et per’aps lead me ta believe tha’ the Centurion an’ ‘er blokes may’ve been wi’oldin’ more’n jus’ th’ hint o’ Tal’Shiar involvement? Yer bloody well right et does! But, seein’ as ‘ow the Tal’Shiar an’ th’ Klingons both go’ their arses ‘anded to ‘em when they tried ta destroy th’ Founders ‘omewairld, I find et highly doubtful tha’ they’d pess wi’ Starfleets attempts tae go galivantin’ aboot the Gamma Quadrant. Nae, gentl’men, they’d much pr’fer tae sit back an’ watch us get our arses handed back to us so tha’ they could ‘ave the last I tol’ ye so…

Ef the Romulans did ‘ave anythin’ tae do wi’ this, ye c’n be sure tha’ et’ll be handled appropriately, but wha’ I’m thinkin’ es, as Ensign Lyvette’s pointed oot a’ready, tha’ whoe’er’s truly respons’ble en this wants us tae believe et’s so an’ ‘as made a damn fine show o’ et… e’en convincing th’ Roms themselves.”

((OOC: Okay… leaving this bit where it is for the time being… plenty of stuff to run with there, if you like, folks… Any questions comments or concerns hit me with a PM. Next up, we’re checking in on Stan and, shortly after that, we should be up to the point where Kel and crew can jump back in to the posting frenzy. Thanks for your patience….))

Stardate 09.05.2374 – 1800 hours
USS Cerberus ASRV-83964:E-001

“…and framing the destruction of a starship on them might likely do the trick.”

She took another huge breath and sunk back into her chair. “In my opinion that is,” she added quickly, biting her bottom lip and bracing herself slightly for whatever response might come.

Mac had yet to move and, for a long moment, the only noticeable change in his stance or expression at all had been a half-amused arching of one brow and a half-irritated lowering of the other. His teeth clenched as his steel-eyed gaze shifted from Lyvette to Rrowl and, then, over the rest of those packed into the tiny pod before he offered a scarcely perceptible nod. “Th’ pair o’ ye’re finished, then, aye,” he rumbled rhetorically, his gaze again ticking deliberately between the junior science officer and the TAC Chief, “Grand! Thank ye both vera much fer offerin’ up yer opinions ere I’d ev’n asked, aye?
While she had been speaking she had not paid much attention to the reactions her words were having on those in the pod. Once she stopped she noticed that the Captain had changed position, moving between her and the cat-thing, and that that creature looked a bit bristled. She shrunk more into her chair, and then when the Captain rebuffed them both for speaking out of turn she shrunk even further down. She only took a small breath of relief when Mac turned first to the Rrowl.

‘Mester Rrowl,” he said, his eyes finding the Kziniti’s once more, “Ef ye believe fer one fargin’ second tha’ me first inclination were no’ tae try an lay this whole bloody mess a’ th’ Romulans’ doorstep, ye dinnae know me as well’s I thought ye might’ve, lad. Fairhtermore, ef ye think I’m gonna swallow tha’ lo’ o’ sap from th’ Centurion wi’oot s’much as sniffin’ th’ bottle from which she poured et, I’d say ye’ve lairned nothin’ from our years wairkin’ t’gether. Be that th’ case, Lt Commander?” Mac smiled at Rrowl just then, challenging the kzinti to lie and tell him that, yes, Rrowl figured Mac had made a tactical blunder in his ‘soft handling’ of the communiqué from the Roms’ pod, “Ef so, I rec’mmend tha’ ye relieve me o’ me command ‘ere an’ now, aye?”

As quickly as the smile had appeared so, too, did it fade from the Captain’s face. “Per’aps ye’d’ve preferred me tae cut th’ Centurion off ere she p’rvided us wi’ the information – fenger pointin’ an’ smoke blowin’ aside – tha’ she did, aye? Give ‘er a reason, ef she’s no’ ‘ad one a’ready, tae truly cause some mischief?”

Breaking eye contact with the TAC Officer before he did so, so that the kzinti wouldn't take the gesture as a threatening one, Mac reached out a hand and clasped it to one of Rrowl’s massive shoulders. “There be a twistin’ of a sayin’ on Airth, Rrowl, older’n e’en Cameron, tha’ says ef yer gonna do th’ time, ye may’s well do th’ crime,” a tilting of his head towards the pod’s viewort directed the Kzinti’s gaze to where E-025 bobbed in the black, “Ef tha’ lo’ where ta think tha’ they were tae face some kind o’ lynchin’ b’cause o wha’s just ‘appened, lad, rather’n ‘avin’ a fair chance tae mount some sort o’ defense an’ pr’sent their own evidence tae suppairt et, whaddya think th’ chances o’ them floatin’ oot there an’ jus’ waitin’ fer it tae ‘appen’d be? Slim tae go’dam none, I figger… Ye know’s well’s I, Rrowl, ‘ow th’ Romulans thenk en situations like this… ef they truly thought they were done fer, they’d’ve no’ bothered ta repairt in’t all an’ mos’ likely’d’ve a’ready been tryin’ ta inch tha’ pod oota th’ fold an inta th’ arms o’ a waitin’ Warbaird.”

Jack turned his eyes to Lyvette, then, and he studied the girl for a moment before he continued.
For every bit that she had relaxed while Mac spoke to Rrowl she tensed back up immediately when the eyes of the Scotsman turned on her. ‘Curie you’ve gone and done it now. This isn’t Oxford, or even the Academy, you can’t go off spouting your opinions all the time just because you know you’re right. You got away with puking on his ship, you’re not going to get away with this. He is gonna rip you a new one, and then send you packing. Uncle Josh is not going to be able to weasel you out of it either, your going to be stuck trying to suck space…’ she thought to herself, her mind thinking twice as quickly as her mouth had gone just a few moments ago, which is actually impressive to consider.

“An’ yew, Ensign,” he sighed, “fer all o’ yer pukin’ an’ wobblin’ aboot, seem tae ‘ave been keepin’ a keen ear onnat transmission, aye? When’d ye graduate, lass?”
She blushed furiously. “Less than a week ago… sir…” her voice little more than a small squeek, although in her head it was screaming, ‘See! Eavesdropping… should have just kept your ears closed and done your job, but no, you always gotta prove that your right. Brandon thinks it’s cute, but this guy doesn’t…’

Jus’ a beebeh, Mac couldn’t help but think even as he nodded his acknowledgement, Fresh oota Frisco an’ ‘er fairst tour sends ‘er straight tae hell.

“Did ye take anythin’ beyond th’ required courses fer TAC an’ Security, then? Any o’ the count’r-insurgency er invest’gation tracks, per’aps?”
“Nay…” she shook her head, not wanting to sound like she was mocking his accent, “No sir. I was… I… we took an expedited course load sir, to graduate early, it’s a new program, me and some other students were part of the trial run see… so no I didn’t take anything beyond required courses in any departments…” she muttered, then to herself, ‘Shut up, your rambling, stop rambling, he doesn’t want your bloody life story…’

“Nae? Are ye sure, lass,” Mac queried, “fer ye seem tae ‘ave fairly strong opinions on tactical matters… an’, fer truth, ye may’ve touched on some o’ the vera points tha’ kept me from ‘avin’ Rrowl scuttle tha’ pod tae begin wi’. Ye may’ve missed yer callin’…” he smirked and folded his arms across his chest then
‘see you and your strong opinions. He’s gonna lay it on you now..’ then her inner dialogue stopped short. Was that a compliment, had he just complimented her? Really? Her jaw dropped open slightly and her eyes widened, he couldn’t have shocked her more if he’d just dropped his pants. She took a breath and licked her lips then shook her head a little and in her now famous tiny chirping voice replied: “No sir… my… my specialty is botany. You know… plants, flowers… “

“…or, per’aps no’.”

His gaze flitted from face to face, again, and, after another moment, fixed his gaze on Rrowl. “Lt Commander Rrowl,” he said, “Should I be consairned aboot this Stowbrieski bloke fer no other reason than th’ Roms’ve o’er’eard ‘im misspeakin’ a tairm like ‘butterfingers’?”

(( “No, sir. Such diversions are common place and, despite the recording…etc, etc, etc”))

“Aye,” Mac nodded, his eyes flicked back to Lyvette, “true enuff. Why, then, Ensign, if ye’d care ta offer yer opinion on this tactical matter’s well, might I be inclined tae ‘ave doubts aboot this lad ef all I’ve go’ tae go on are th’ ‘ints an’ allegations stairred up by a knot o’ Romulans tha’ I’ve no’ a lot o’ trust in tae begin wi’?”
“Wha? Oh…” Her mind was still trying to catch up on the conversation since she was still shocked she was alive, “Um… no I don’t believe so…sir.”

“O’ course no’,” the Captain nodded, his gaze drifting away from the science officer to fix, now, on the CEO. “Mester Cameron,” he demanded, “Wha’ was crewman Shytepants post tae be this marnin’?”

((Something to the effect of; “He should have been in Main Engineering, sir…blahblahblah…”))

“Main Engineerin’,” Mac repeated, regarding Lyvette and Rrowl again. His stomach turned as he asked the next question; “An’ ‘ow many tha’ were en Engineerin’ a’ th’ time o’ th’ breach made et off th’ boat an’ inta an ASRV?” He heard the computer chirp as someone accessed and reviewed the records from which that answer might be derived… and waited…

“Only Stowbrieski, sir,” came the somewhat tentative answer.

“Aye. Only Stowbrieski. How inna bloody ‘ell did an’ engineer, who by all rights shoulda been kelled wi’ th’e rest o’ ‘is shift, manage tae make it tae a pod wi’ th’ Marines,” he cast a questioning but meaningful glance to the tiny crew of his own pod, “Tha’s wha’s go’ me buyin’ a bit more o’ th’ Centurion’s bit than any other, aye?

Es et suspicious tha’ the Romulans’re th’ fairst ta bring et to attention? Does et per’aps lead me ta believe tha’ the Centurion an’ ‘er blokes may’ve been wi’oldin’ more’n jus’ th’ hint o’ Tal’Shiar involvement? Yer bloody well right et does! But, seein’ as ‘ow the Tal’Shiar an’ th’ Klingons both go’ their arses ‘anded to ‘em when they tried ta destroy th’ Founders ‘omewairld, I find et highly doubtful tha’ they’d pess wi’ Starfleets attempts tae go galivantin’ aboot the Gamma Quadrant. Nae, gentl’men, they’d much pr’fer tae sit back an’ watch us get our arses handed back to us so tha’ they could ‘ave the last I tol’ ye so…

Ef the Romulans did ‘ave anythin’ tae do wi’ this, ye c’n be sure tha’ et’ll be handled appropriately, but wha’ I’m thinkin’ es, as Ensign Lyvette’s pointed oot a’ready, tha’ whoe’er’s truly respons’ble en this wants us tae believe et’s so an’ ‘as made a damn fine show o’ et… e’en convincing th’ Roms themselves.”
And she actually smiled a little bit with that last compliment, and pulled herself out of her chair some, there was likely a sweaty imprint in the cushion that will never come out of it in the shape of her rear end. Then blushed deeply and with an almost worried glance at Rrowl averted her eyes back to the computer where she went back to keeping an eye on the vast amounts of nothingness around them.

Stardate 09.06.2374
USS Cerberus ASRV-83964:E-013
Stan David Stobrieski was beginning to think he might be in a little bit of trouble and, as a result, his mission in risk of being jeopardized…

”Hold that door, crewman!” The MACO Master Sergeant’s voice, he knew, should have been the first warning. Stan’s intent had been to have this escape pod all to himself, allowing himself a full cycle, at least, to let go of this solid form and recouperate from having maintained it for so long. It wasn’t his fault that this brutish bunch of Federation footsoldiers had been training in the gymnasium nearby when the solids had finally realized their fate and sounded their warnings. He had even tried to seal the pod’s hatch before the marines could board but the big female who appeared to be the one in charge was too quick and too powerful to stop in this form.

“I said hold it," she had repeated, looming over him in what he presumed was supposed to be an intimidating posture, "Don’t touch anything again or I’ll have your guts for garters.”
Stan figured that, if this little ruse of his was to be a continued success, he would have to play along and pretend he truly was afraid of the woman and her pack of Starfleet’s apparent brand of the Jem’Hadar. He had affected a nervously terrified expression, of course, and even remembered to cower away from her a bit… How intimidating would she think she was should I take the shape of a Terlyndian Saber Serpent, he had wondered, or any other number of such creatures that you solids have yet to even know? All of your muscle would become meaningless once the flesh was flayed from your bones, wouldn’t it?
MSgt McQueen set about barking orders to her marines, then, demanding that everyone strap in and prepare for the pod’s ejection. Stan did so, being careful to maintain the same skittish, frightened compliance that she expected. She demanded his name and he stammered it out, shakily adding the department to which Stan had been assigned, then barked at him to get out of her sight… If I did that, now, human, he had thought, it would become necessary to kill you all here in this pod. That wouldn’t do, would it? Had you died aboard the ship like you should have, none of this would be necessary.… and he obliged as submissively as he could manage.

Even once the tiny pod was safely clear of the explosion and the solids had shaken off the effects of the rather forcible lauch and the buffeting of the shockwaves that followed and they had called him out on the questionable hygiene that had, to this point, served as an effective repellant, he had obliged. It was a strange thing trying to mix indignity, self-conscious modesty, and submission into a single human expression, Stan found, but he managed it well enough. He made sure to not be too quick about stripping out of the fouled uniform and even requested a large towel with which to cover himself from the replicator before removing everything. Once the soiled clothing had been reclaimed by the replicator, Stan ordered some additional items from the replicator and made use of the limited refresher device that the solids used to clean themselves.

Yes, Stan David Stowbrieski was, unfortunately, coming to the end of his usefulness. As inferior as these solids were they were not completely stupid and it wouldn’t take them long to notice other things about him and his presence in the pod that, if allowed to be persued to their answers, would seriously impinge the engineer’s ability to carry out the next part of his assignment… Something will need to be done about this, I suppose, Stan, scrubbed clean and dressed in a freshly replicated set of coveralls, thought as he settled back into his seat and watched the others, one of these might even do nicely…
The comm crackeled to life shortly after that. First, that insufferable boor Captain MacTavish had made his obligatory ‘we’re alive, here are your orders, honor our fallen comrades’ speech, then orders from Chief Cameron to all remaining enginnering personnel to assist in synchronization and maximization of the scattered ASRVs’ systems. Founders be praised, he grinned, thankful that he was at least going to have a chance to slip out of the solids’ sight for a few moments, at least.

“I… I guess that… that’d be me, MSgt,” he snickered nervously as he pushed out of his seat and made for one of the pod’s maintenance panels, “don’t wanna get caught sleepin’ by the Chief and especially not the Captain, huh?” He slid the access panel aside and began performing the calibrations and modifications that LtCdr Cameron had specified.

Yes, Stan, your time is almost up, isn’t it? You’ll be dying your second death very soon, I think.
((OOC: Stan will be effective, respectful, and compliant during the remainder of the crew’s time aboard the pods. Following orders as they’re given, etc… More from Mr Stinky after the Charon’s arrival.))

Stardate 2374.09.06 - 1225 hours
ASRV-83964:E-001, deployed from USS Cerberus

“Attention USS Charon,” Jack began, “This es Captain Jack MacTavish, USS Cerberus. A warp core breach an’ failure of critical emergency systems ‘as resulted en th’ destruction o’ Starfleet vessel NCC-83964 an’ th’ loss o’ 132 crewmen abaird. Th’ remainin’ 15 ASRVs’ve been clustered as per battlefield recov’ry protocols an’ await yer int’rvention a’ coordinates bein’ transmitted tae ye…” He nodded to Duncan who wordlessly sent the coordinates to the approaching Saber-class frigate… “We’ve eighty-one Starfleet personnel an’ six repr’sentatives o’ th’ Romulan Star Empire fer recovery, along wi’ the remainin’ cloak an’ wha’e’er data me crew’s managed ta salvage from the library dumps prior tae the destruction o’ the vessel an’ a bit more tha’s been gathered en the past 24 hours per our own limited investigations.

Cerberus standin’ by fer further direction an’ recovery op’rations.”

(( reply from Charon assumed))

“Acknowledged,Charon,” Jack replied, “MacTavish oot.”

He nodded to Cameron who opened the general address channel that had, so far, kept the Cerberus’ tiny swarm of escape pods linked. “All hail open, sir,” the Chief confirmed.

“Crew o’ th’ Cerberus,” Jack began, “Cap’n MacTavish, ‘ere. As ye lot may’ve noticed by now, th’ USS Charon ‘as entered th’ sector an’ es en route tae pluck us from th’ ink. Giv’n th’ nature o’ our mission an’ th’ circumstances be’ind our current situation, I’d expect no less’n fer each o’ us tae ‘ave tae submit tae medical’s well’s tactical scrut’ny. Nor would I expect any less’n fer each o’ ye tae fully comply wi’ wha’ll be asked o’ ye once abaird our sister-ship, aye?

Et’s been a bloody ‘ard thairty-six hours fer us all, ladies an’ gen’lmen, an’ yer each tae be commended fer yer actions since settin’ foot upon me boat,” MacTavish paused for a moment, his gaze skimming over the five others in his own pod before continuing. There was, of course, the possibility that, with the destruction of his own ship scarcely two days out of Spacedock, that the remainder of the mission to which Cerberus had been assigned would likely be tasked to another Captain and Crew if it wasn’t scrapped all together… Mac bristled at the thought… “Th’ Charon should range us wi’in the next hour. Make yer preparations’s necessary an’ stay alairt fer any farither orders from Lt Cdrs Rrowl and Cameron en regards ta recovery an’ debriefin’ pr’cedures.

Ef ye ne’er ‘ear et from me again, Cerberus,” he rumbled, finally, “et’s been a right bonney honor tae’ve sairved wi’ ye.” MacTavish nodded to Chief Cameron, again, and, as the CEO closed the channel, Mac stalked back across the ASRV’s deck to retrieve his PADD and immerse himself back into the grim protocol of their circumstance… reports to write, logs and casualty reports to review...

"Captain,” Chief Cameron’s voice called from behind him, “I need to speak with you for a moment. It's urgent."

“Aye,” MacTavish chuffed as he scooped up the PADD, “When yer stoofed en an escape pod, Mester Cameron, mos’ thengs tend tae ge’ tha’ way. Wha’ es et?”

"First of all, sir, I would like to apologize for my behavior earlier,” the engineer said, “I know it was way out of line. But because of your kick in the ass, I was motivated to review the ship's telemetry, among other things, and I found something very disturbing."

MacTavish turned, at last, and regarded his CEO flatley. “Dinnae apologize tae me, Mester Cameron,” he replied, “ye said ye ‘ad somethin’ urgent…”

"Sir...someone sabotaged the ship. There's just no way that all the systems that failed could have failed simultaneously; there are just too many redundancies and safeguards for that to happen. So I looked a little deeper. Power fluctuations in the warp core and irregular antimatter flow in the intermix chamber occurred at exactly the same time. There's just no way for that to happen naturally. The warp core fluctuations will lead to irregular matter and antimatter flow in the intermix chamber, but for them to start at exactly the same instant, something has to initiate it. I remembered the same thing happening on the Enterprise-D when a student's science experiment went awry."

“Th’ condensed version, Cameron,” Mac barked, “I dinnae need a fargin’ refresher course on warp technology er a bloody history lesson!”

"It was nanites, sir.”

“Nanites,” MacTavish repeated, “are ye sure?”

“That's the only thing that would explain it, sir,” Cameron replied, “the only thing capable of causing those particular problems. It's not something that could be done through software or programming; the nanites would have physically manipulated the power current and the antimatter flow. Add to that the deactivation of the warp core's automatic ejection system and emergency forcefield containment system, and the deactivation of the Cerberus' main distress signal...there can be no doubt about it, captain. It was sabotage.

It's someone on the ship, sir. Nanites have a very limited operational life; they had to have been introduced after we left Spacedock. I'll need time to narrow down where they were introduced into the system; it could have been anywhere on the ship with computer access. Hopefully some Engineering people on the other pods have been doing some homework too and we can get it figured out quicker, but there's no way around it, sir. We have a traitor among us. And unless they decided to go kamikaze and die with the ship, I'd be willing to bet they're on one of the pods. Maybe this one, for all I know."

“I’m well aware tha’ et were sabotage, Cameron,” Mac fumed, “I’m pretty fargin’ sure tha’ e’en Ensign Lyvette there’s been able ta figger tha’ oot! An’ jus’ as sure, lad, et es someone on one o’ these go’dam pods… ye, Rrowl, one o’ the fargin’ Romulans… dinnae stand aboot tellin’ me thengs I a’ready know, monkey boy! Find me the bloody answers tae th’ bits we’ve yet tae figger oot, aye!” He slammed the PADD back down onto the seat.

“I wan’ irreffutible fargin’ proof tha’ et were nanites! I wan’ tae know where th’ bloody thengs came from, who bloody well manufactured ‘em! I wan’ tae know exactly who en th’ name o’ Bonney Prince Charlie brought ‘em abaird me ship! An’ fer the luv o’ heather an’ haggis, I wan’ those bloody answers e’re we s’much as ‘ave DS9 en our bloody sights! Am I makin’ meself abundantly clear?!?”

It had been a long time since Jack felt his temper beginning to get the better of him but, at this very moment, his rage was so acute that he could scarcely recall even the simplest of the management techniques that Arevaci had worked so hard to equip him with… Arevaci… Ye dinnae make et oot, either, did ye?… the blood sang in his ears and his temples pounded… his hands crushed themselves into fists as he growled at Cameron through clenched teeth; “Now get oota me fookin’ sight!”… Then, with no other outlet for his anger, Jack MacTavish spun and drove a fist into the unforgiving bulkhead of the shuttle… then another… and another...

((OOC: Oooookay… that was bound to happen… I think there’s enough there for the crew of the Charon to run with, aye? I imagine, if Mac doesn’t settle down and contact Charon TAC/SEC in regards to the findings thus far, Rrowl or Cameron will coordinate… I figger it’ll be trips to medical and FULL debriefings for all Cerberus crew once reeled in by Captain Gavison’s lads.))

Stardate: 2374.09.06
The Charon – Bridge – 12:25 hours
“We’re being hailed, Captain,” Kennedy stated, his hands flying across the Ops controls in front of him, and to the front right of the Captain’s chair. “It’s one of the ASRVs.”

“Open a channel, Lieutenant,” Gavison said in a low voice filled with tension.

“Channel open, Sir.”

“Attention USS Charon. This es Captain Jack MacTavish, USS Cerberus. A warp core breach an’ failure of critical emergency systems ‘as resulted en th’ destruction o’ Starfleet vessel NCC-83964 an’ th’ loss o’ 132 crewmen abaird. Th’ remainin’ 15 ASRVs’ve been clustered as per battlefield recov’ry protocols an’ await yer int’rvention a’ coordinates bein’ transmitted tae ye…” He nodded to Duncan who wordlessly sent the coordinates to the approaching Saber-class frigate… “We’ve eighty-one Starfleet personnel an’ six repr’sentatives o’ th’ Romulan Star Empire fer recovery, along wi’ the remainin’ cloak an’ wha’e’er data me crew’s managed ta salvage from the library dumps prior tae the destruction o’ the vessel an’ a bit more tha’s been gathered en the past 24 hours per our own limited investigations.

Cerberus standin’ by fer further direction an’ recovery op’rations.”
Gavison sighed at the sound of the ornery Scotsman’s voice. He’d been afraid that Jack would have followed the old seafaring rule of going down with one’s ship—a practice Starfleet had worked to abolish since the inception of the War had put the number of qualified captains on the decline. The report that Mac had relayed concerning the Cerberus’ losses weighed heavy on the captain’s soul, but there were survivors to worry about at this point, and Kel was more than a little eager to find out what had happened to their sister ship.

“Captain MacTavish, this is Captain Kelsey Gavison,” Kel entered the communication with formality. “It is good to hear your voice. Prepare to be transported aboard the Charon as soon as we’re within range. We’ll have all of the survivors aboard within the hour.”

(OOC: a response, if so desired…)

Once the channel was closed, Kelsey turned his focus to the bridge crew. “Lt. Kennedy, on screen when within range. Then begin immediate coordination with Doc Hamilton to prepare a triage in the shuttle bay. I want to make sure that every one of those that are brought aboard have a clean bill of health before they’re allowed to wander my ship. Captain MacTavish will have the diplomat’s quarters. I want a meeting with Mac and his senior staff in the Observation Lounge as soon as they’ve had a chance to settle. All senior staff will attend.

“Mr. Kato,” Kel switched his attention to the science officer. “Tone those scans. I want to know every detail of those in the ASRVs, as well as the surrounding space. You find any debris from the Cerberus and I want it brought on board for further analysis by yours, and Chief Jones’ team.”

“Talon, you know what to do.”

Rising from the chair, Kelsey glanced over his shoulder to where his XO sat at the starboard wall. “Mr. Fletcher, you have the Bridge. I want to know the instant the rescue operation is a success.”

Striding from the bridge, Kel entered his ready room, waiting for the telltale sound of the doors closing before he dropped his fists to the table top and let his head fall. He hadn’t really known what he’d find upon reaching the coordinates, and he hadn’t realized it until he’d heard Mac’s voice, but he’d actually thought all of them would be gone. Vanished, or dead, or something of the sorts. He felt a relief that he hadn’t known he’d needed, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to show that side of him to the crew.

After a time, Kelsey moved around to the replicator and ordered himself a coffee. With it in hand, he returned to the head of the table where he seated himself. He’d been intent on closing his eyes a while, temporarily forgetting the events of the past couple of days. Instead, he found notification on the computer that a high priority message was waiting for him. He stared at it long and hard for some time, unsure of whether he wanted to trouble himself with it, or not. Starfleet politics were droll, and tiresome. Looking a rescue in the face, the last thing Kel wanted to do was deal with a politician’s inquiry when he had no answers.

He considered ignoring it for the space of five minutes while he sipped the coffee. It had been some time since he’d had to deal with any on a personal level, and that’s just the way he wanted to keep it. Unfortunately, in the face of what had just occurred he knew he could only avoid it for so long, and Kelsey wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.

Activating the message, Captain Gavison watched detachedly until it was over. He considered the request and wondered at the response he’d be sending. In his years of service he’d sent many a letter informing family of their loss. No matter the number, it was never an easy thing. The only thing he could hope was that the girl was alive, by some miracle, and that Talon’s security measures helped turn up something.

Back on the Bridge, Lt. Kennedy was working through the logistics of establishing a quarantined triage in the shuttle bay, working with Engineering on the logistics of transporting all of the survivors in the timeframe that the captain had promised, and integrating security’s measures into the whole operation.

Once the channel was closed, Kelsey turned his focus to the bridge crew. “Lt. Kennedy, on screen when within range. Then begin immediate coordination with Doc Hamilton to prepare a triage in the shuttle bay. I want to make sure that every one of those that are brought aboard have a clean bill of health before they’re allowed to wander my ship. Captain MacTavish will have the diplomat’s quarters. I want a meeting with Mac and his senior staff in the Observation Lounge as soon as they’ve had a chance to settle. All senior staff will attend.

“Mr. Kato,” Kel switched his attention to the science officer. “Tone those scans. I want to know every detail of those in the ASRVs, as well as the surrounding space. You find any debris from the Cerberus and I want it brought on board for further analysis by yours, and Chief Jones’ team.”
Kato 3 nodded at the Captain's orders, but did not look away from his console. "Aye, sir," he answered firmly. "With the recalibrations, our scanners are working like a dream. I'll record anything unusual I find and have a report ready for you within the hour."

“Talon, you know what to do.”

Rising from the chair, Kelsey glanced over his shoulder to where his XO sat at the starboard wall. “Mr. Fletcher, you have the Bridge. I want to know the instant the rescue operation is a success.”
As Captain Kelsey Gavison left the bridge, Kato continued scanning, feeding all the information he was gathering into his console. As he refined his scans, he quickly made note of all the pertinent information...

15 ASRVs, cluttered in battefield formation...a few of them looked as if they had taken some light damage - probably the pods that were closest to the ship when whatever happened to it resulted in its destruction. As the Charon neared the pods, the scans more refined, he identified the pods one by one.

"ASRVs designated E-006, 008, 012 and 019 have all suffered minor damage from the blast," he announced to the bridge crew. "Pods 006 and 019 each have been losing power quickly because of the damage. Their essential systems would have failed in a few days; it's a good thing we found them when we did.

"Someone should inform medical when those pods arrive - I wouldn't be surprised if the air was starting to get thin in those pods. Medical might want to look over those individuals.

"I'll continue scanning for debris. I'm picking up some, but most of it isn't any larger than simple space trash; probably just pieces of the hull. If the captain wants all of the debris possible brought in and studied, I'd recommend trying to tractor any that we come in range of - space debris drifts easily. I'll feed the coordinates of any and all debris of the Cerberus I find into the helm console..."

He continued scanning, but the search for debris wasn't promising. It had probably all drifted off in different directions. There would be some that had drifted in the same direction as the pods, but it was likely all over the sector by now. And if a comet or solar wind swept through the area, any hope of finding significant parts of the Cerberus would be lost. Kato shook his head in frustration - the best they were likely to have was some pieces of the hull that had drifted along with the ASRVs.

And it was unlikely that they'd figure out what caused the destruction of the Cerberus from that.

Stardate 2374.09.06 - 1230 hours
ASRV-83964:E-001, deployed from USS Cerberus
It had been a long time since Jack felt his temper beginning to get the better of him but, at this very moment, his rage was so acute that he could scarcely recall even the simplest of the management techniques that Arevaci had worked so hard to equip him with¡K Arevaci¡K Ye dinnae make et oot, either, did ye?¡K the blood sang in his ears and his temples pounded¡K his hands crushed themselves into fists as he growled at Cameron through clenched teeth; "Now get oota me fookin' sight!" Then, with no other outlet for his anger, Jack MacTavish spun and drove a fist into the unforgiving bulkhead of the shuttle¡K then another¡K and another...
Curie had been stretching out some after her brief sleep had been interrupted by the wonderful news that someone was coming to get them, when she heard the CEO, she still couldn¡¦t really nail his name down, approach Mac. Lengthening her short frame as far out as it could go, without poking out someone else¡¦s eye she listened to what they said. Nanites. But of course, that made sense. Done with stretching she slowly eased herself back into the chair at the control panel she had sweated her butt print into, and then stopped as she heard Mac nearly explode. She tensed and waited, pretending to be looking at the screen in front of her as if it said something interesting. Then it happened, he did explode.

She had seen it coming, but that didn't make it any easier to live through. Closing her eyes tightly and took another deep breath. Violence was something she did not deal with well, especially violence stemming from such anger. Memories echoed in her head as she heard his fist pound against the bulkheads. Her stomach threatened to turn over again and she took a deep breath and tried to center herself before she ended up puking on Mac's pod again.

Curie, calm yourself down right now. You can't let this get to you. It isn't like before. This is different. He¡¦s upset, your upset, everyone is upset, and everyone had the right to be upset. He isn't drunk, or drugged up on something, he's just upset. It's not directed at you. He isn't Brandon, he's your commander. Let him have his moment, you don't have to get involved beyond just doing your job.
The voice of reason sang through her head, and it helped some, but until Mac stopped she could not concentrate on anything. She thought of the memories, reliving every painful moment, emotional and physical. Then suddenly her mind shifted, and she wondered if Brandon had heard about her ship. This concept terrified her even more than Mac's pounding. But it brought her back to reality. She had to keep herself in check, to continue with the mission and get them aboard the Charon so she could find a com unit capable of sending him a message, before he went and did something stupid.

When Mac finally finished assaulting the poor little Pod that had saved their lives, she opened her eyes, took a deep breath and turned around. Her dark eyes met his, they were big and brimming with tears, but she managed to speak somewhat smoothly, though quietly.

"Your hand sir. I believe it needs medical attention." She said, nodding toward his hand, which had been pretty violently abused by it's owner.

((OOC: I am assuming that Mac punched the bulkheads pretty hard and that his hand is either swelling slightly, if not bleeding a bit from a busted knuckle, I¡'ve seen a few guys do stupid things like that in my life... lol... and so has Curie))

"If you don't mind, I'll get the med kit... and some ice." She didn't really wait for him to respond, instead she stood up and moved toward the wall where the med kit was hanging. "If anything we need to bandage it, the air in here is recirculated, there are filters, but they've been running for over a day now, and I wouldn¡¦t want to guarantee how well they are working. This place has six people running into each other in it, and I don't really want to think about how many germs and bacteria are floating around that could easily get into that and infect it. And somehow I don't see you as one that would take care of it once we get on the Charon and out of the medical unit, so it is probably best to take some preventative measures now so you won't have to take a trip to the sick bay during the debriefings." She returned with the med kit, and asked the replicator for a cup of ice. And if he is willing she will ice the hand for a few minutes then bandage the busted knuckle with the tenderness of a nurse.

"There you are sir. Ready for duty again." She offered a slight smile, packed up the med kit and moved to go back to her work. Desperately trying not to think of what Brandon will do with bad news about her.

((OOC: If he decides not to cooperate with the Ensign I can certainly go back and edit as necessary ))

Stardate: 2374.09.06
USS Charon, Bridge – 12:30 hours

Rising from the chair, the captain glanced over his shoulder to where his XO sat at the starboard wall. “Mister Fletcher, you have the Bridge. I want to know the instant the rescue operation is a success.”

"Aye, sir," Fletcher responded, then slid into the command chair as Captain Gavison exited the bridge. "All right, people," Jonathon spoke. "We have our orders, let's get our people home."

As the Charon's XO glanced at the readouts, he gave a few refining orders. "Mister Kato, take a closer look at the damaged pods, and let me know if any are serious enough to warrant quicker action on our part. Mister Kennedy, reopen the channel to Captain MacTavish."

Once the TAC nodded that the task was complete, Joanthon spoke. "Captain MacTavish, this is Commander Jonathon Fletcher of the Charon. Sir, obviously your pod will be given top priority, but beyond that, I'd like to prioritize the rescue operation in terms of injured personnel. Our science officer is checking now for damaged vehicles, but in the meantime, we'll be broadcasting a general message asking that your people notify us of any seriouly injured personnel that may need immediate attention."

OOC: allowing for a response beyond "sure, whatever" if MacTavish is so inclined
Fletcher answered before cutting the channel. "Very good, sir. We'll see you shortly. Fletcher out."

Once that was completed, the XO had a new task for the OPS officer. "Mister Kennedy," he ordered, "open a new channel. General broadcast frequency, please."

Upon getting the signal, Jonathon made his general address. "Attention, crew of the Cerberus. This is Commander Jonathon Fletcher of the USS Charon. We have your location and are moving to pick you up; please stand by for transport. Upon arrival, you will be checked out by our medical staff, then assigned temporary quarters.

If you or any of the other occupants of your escape pods require immediate medical attention, please notify us, so that we may designate you as priorty. Otherwise, sit tight, we will get to you as quickly as possible. Fletcher out."

The commander took a deep breath, then relaxed a bit. Poor bastards, he tought to himself. Adrift like that, hoping for the mercy of strangers.
"Mister Kennedy," he addressed the operations chief, "We'll need accomodations for nearly ninety personnel. I am well aware that we don't have that kind of room, but do the best that you can. Notify our junior officers that they will be temporarily relocated; use their berths to host the Cerberus' senior staff. Try to get junior officers into cabins if you can; we can add cots to the existing quarters and squeeze in a few that way. The crewmen will have to make do with cargo bay two. Get the replicators working overtime to at least get them some bunks.

I expect that you won't be able to do everything you need from here; you have my leave to exit the bridge to fulfil your duties."

OOC: assuming an affirmative
As Kennedy stood, an ensign that Fletcher was unfamiliar with slid in to take the console. Regular angels of mercy, that's us.

Stardate 09.06.2374
USS Cerberus ASRV-83964: E-013
As the hours in the cramped conditions of the pod passes Brianna like a good leader leads by example. She gets up and stretches out does some Tai Chi to keep limber.

“Who’s next. Keep it simple just get the kinks out we want to conserve air."

Then Brianna will sit down and monitor her team for compliance. It was time to ride the situation out. What was that old saying; God grant me the courage to change things I can and the serenity to accept things I cannot change, and the wisdom to know the difference. She was wise enough to know there was nothing she cold do about this but get her team through this as easily as possible

Stan Stowbrieski now clean and in a fresh uniform sits quietly out of the way and that is fine with her, though she keeps watch while she is awake. When she plans to sleep she turns to her senior corporal and quietly tells him to keep an eye on the man and pass that on to the team. She doesn’t like the man at all and as soon as they get freed from the ASRV she will put him on report, better yet have him taken into custody. He would be made to pay for almost stranding her team on the ship, trying to take off with only him in the pod, while there were plenty others there that need to get into escape pods. More than that, he continued trying to close the door on them even after she told him to hold the door. If Mr. Stowbrieski thought she didn’t remember that, he would be in for a hard knock when she got off this pod.

Brianna kept food to a minimum. Her normal activities sharply curtail due to the current confined circumstances. Her team all settle in with no problems they were a great team hand picked and trained by her. The Devil Wolves was the name they had taken and had chosen a particular badge to indentify them which was the head of a snarling wolf coming straight at you, very like Brianna’s clan badge, The Wolf of the McQueen’s. Some called her team, McQueen’s Wolves.

The routine was only once altered when information was sent down the pipeline and Stan getting up and make some adjustments that were apparently requested. Everything seemed to be going well at least for her team. As the hours passed the lone Engineering crewman didn’t look well. He was sweating, and looked uncomfortable. Even after short naps he looked fatigued and his condition turned steadily worse. While she didn’t like the man she wasn’t going to let him sick up without at least addressing the matter. The one thing she really regrets is losing is her clan plaid and cairngorm brooch she had gotten from the homeland of her clan. They were probably blown to smithereens out somewhere in space. Replicating them just wouldn’t be the same.

Brianna picks up the med kit from the pods emergency supplies finally and made her way over to where Mr. Stowbrieski sat, addressing him, “Crewman, you don’t look well. If that is so take something for it and I will inform them up the line. One of my men is a medic if you need something more, let me know.”

Brianna true to her word reported to the bridge pod. “The is Mst. Sgt. Brianna MacQueen on the USS Cerberus ASRV-83964 escape pod. I am reporting that the Engineering Crewman Stan Stowbrieski appears to be ill” I have a medic with my team so we will try to handle it as well as possible here, but would appreciate and suggestions any medical personnel can give us.”

Brianna then settled back for the long run keeping an eye on Mr. Stowbrieski's condition. He looked no better as time went on in fact, if anything, he looked worse.

Stardate: 2374.09.06
USS Cerberus ASRV-83964:

"Attention, crew of the Cerberus. This is Commander Jonathon Fletcher of the USS Charon. We have your location and are moving to pick you up; please stand by for transport. Upon arrival, you will be checked out by our medical staff, then assigned temporary quarters.

If you or any of the other occupants of your escape pods require immediate medical attention, please notify us, so that we may designate you as priority. Otherwise, sit tight, we will get to you as quickly as possible. Fletcher out."
Brianna gets on the communicator and reports to the Charon. This is MACO Mst Sgt. Brianna McQueen on the USS Cerberus ASRV-83964: Mr. Stowbrieski is not doing well at all. There has been no improvement in his condition. In fact he looks worse, Just letting you know for your infomation, according to Mr Fletcher’s announcement about prioritizing pods, Sir.