Stardate: 2374.09.06
The Charon – Captain’s Ready Room – 0700 hours
Waiting, Rhiannon tugged out an invisible wrinkle in her black uniform. She double checked her glengarry that sported the MacQueen’s tartan, black strips on red, (a hat much like those worn by pipers that sits fronts to back on the head- not the round scot’s bonnets.) and touched the button to signal she was out here to see the Captain.

She had delayed reporting in as the Captain had been deeply involved in rushing to the rescue of the Cerberus, which had been reported missing.

“Who is it?” As the expected query came Rhiannon replied.

“Gunnery Sergeant Rhiannon MacQueen, reporting in for MACO Team Beta.”

“Enter,” came the reply, though the voice did not sound like the owner really wanted to be disturbed.

The door opened and Rhiannon stepped in, she had an impressively fine figure for a woman, 6’2” in her stocking feet, Junoesque in stature, or one might say an image of Brunhilda, due to her viking ancestry. Rhiannon was fighting fit which only accentuated her obvious feminine curves which the stretch material of her regulation black suit revealed so well. Her glorious head of red gold hair was done in a French braid down the back of her head and then the long braid was folded in half and secured with a clip, simple and utilitarian. Intense aquamarine eyes stared out under the red wings of her eyebrows in a face the was beautiful as well as being charismatic. Added to that was the look in her eyes that revealed a depth of character to those who looked beyond their brilliant cerulean surface, eyes that could go glacially hard or stormy.

She saluted with a snap of her wrist. Stepped up to his desk and presented her PADD with the orders for Beta Team displayed on the screen.

“My orders, Sir

It had looked like the Captain had not slept that night. Truth be told, Rhiannon had trouble getting to sleep last night, worrying about her twin sister, who was a MACO Master Sgt. aboard the Cerberus. They were close, very close, some said they had a psychic connection between them, and by a strange coincidence of their birth they were both a 7th daughter of a 7th daughter, and to hear the old folks that meant they were fey. Their mother had to have a C-section for it was found that their umbilical cords were wrapped about each other as a result they were both lifted out at the same time.

“Capt G’s replies and actions, whatever transpires)

“Sir, might I inquire, what is known of the Cerberus’s disappearance.” Normally it was none of her business and she would have not asked, but... “My twin sister is the NCO of the MACO’s on board the Cerberus,” she quickly adds to by way of explaining why she was asking.

She had been a Master Sergeant, but to get a berth on the Cerberus, who did not need another Mst. Sgt., she had taken a demotion in rank to get the position. This would be the first time in their military career they would have been posted together; no, they would be posted together. She did not want to think otherwise. Her sister would be fine, she knew it.

(Capt’s reactions.)

Whatever the Captain says is lost on Rhiannon who has turned her eyes toward a growing cluster of ASRVs, far from their position, but getting closer by the moment, eyes that are seeing outward beyond the ship and inward.

(Captain’s reactions.)

Stardate: 2374.09.06
ASRV-83964:E-025, deployed from USS Cerberus – 1300 hours

The last 36 hours were a bit boring. The only break to the boredom was the Centurion playing her strange instrument and after that Anderson fell on the Centurion setting off one of her attacks. She was medicated by Rhiana and slept until 09.06 at 0600 S’Talon was busy with his laptop computer doing something. Rhiana meanwhile looked to be in a trance. The 4 security officers assigned to the group slept in rotation and watched the 4 Romulans in turn. “Not much trouble the sneaky bastards could cause on an ASRV” That last remark came from the new security officer Brian Jacques who was assigned to follow after Rhiana.

Shiarrael had finished the manual for the Saber Class in a few hours. After that she slept, ate a light meal did a few stretches, then ran a scan on the ships systems. Finding all was operating within acceptable parameters, she will settle down and “re-read” the manual. In reality she will listen to the humans natter between them selves. Jacques is a complainer, always saying negative stuff and blaming everyone else for his woes. The Romulans were on the top of his list. He did however keep his voice down. Anderson was a quite one, mostly short sentences and was very observant. Lopez was one to laugh a lot and liked telling jokes, off colored to be sure. She was pressed hard to keep quiet on the funnier ones. Kishimoto was a lot quieter than Anderson, she was assigned to the Centurion and she seemed genuinely concerned about the Centurion’s conditon.

Shiarrael was on duty when the transmission from the Cerberus is received =/\\\\="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, and 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."=/\\\\=
“It looks like we are to be picked up” She will say out loud. Toggling the switch to reply. Shiarrael will reply in turn using the format she heard from the pods ahead of her.

=/\\\\= “This is Lieutenant Shiarrael i'Ramnau Pardek on the USS Cerberus ASRV-83964: E-025. One medical situation, but stable, non-life threatening, No other issues at this time.” =/\\\\=

According to the manual the Saber class was a lot smaller then the stream runner class. (Just where are they going to put everyone?) Getting up from her seat she will move over to Rhiana to see if she was asleep or meditating. Either way she will be woken up. S’Talon closes his laptop.

Stardate: 2374.09.06
The Charon – Captain’s Ready Room – 07:00 hours
Kelsey Gavison had been up for two hours by the time the ready room’s computer chirped indicating he had a visitor. He'd long since done away with a yeoman—no sense putting someone’s life at risk just for a little luxury; besides which, he never really felt like he deserved to be waited on. So, without a yeoman, it had to be something to do with the Cerberus. At least, one could always hope.

“Who is it?” Kel’s voice was weary due to a lack of sleep since he’d received this assignment.

“Gunnery Sergeant Rhiannon MacQueen, reporting in for MACO Team Beta.”
He’d heard that the MACOs had made it on board just before they’d departed from DS9, but hadn’t seen any sign of them, and had been so busy with the details of tracking down Mac’s ship that he’d completely forgotten their presence on board his own.

“Enter,” he commanded, unintentionally allowing a little of his disappointment at the lack of news on the Cerberus to seep into his gravel-filled voice.

The captain barely took notice of the statuesque sergeant as she swept into the room—his eyes had returned to the computer readout displaying the scans from Science and TAC over the third shift. He could tell that she’d saluted my the blur of motion on his peripheral, and when she’d finished he settled back in his chair and looked at her through brooding, deep set eyes.

“My orders, Sir.” MacQueen stepped forward and placed a PADD on the table in front of him, sliding it to within easy reach.

Kelsey remained still for a moment while he considered her. In his estimation she looked on edge—not nervous, but…coiled; as though ready for immediate action. As a matter-of-fact, Gavison wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d learned that she’d been ready to spring since birth, and at the same time, he knew that her countenance was more of a newly acquired flavor.

“I know what your orders are, Gunnie,” he said in a low voice. “Is there something else I can help you with?”

“Sir, might I inquire,” MacQueen started right in; there was no bashfulness in this woman. “What is known of the Cerberus’ disappearance? My twin sister is the NCO of the MACOs on board the Cerberus.”

“Right now, Gunnie,” Kelsey said in an even tone, watching the mettle of her face with a scrutinizing gaze. “We know absolutely nothing. The Cerberus disappeared from all Starfleet sensors…” He would have continued, but the picturesque MACO was staring out the window to the left, a faraway look in her eye. Kelsey gave her but a few seconds to daydream about what he knew from experience was the worst of nightmares before clearing his throat and rising. “Unless there’s more to your inquiry, Gunnie, I’ve a full day ahead of me. You’re welcome to join us on the bridge once we reach the Cerberus’ last known coordinates.”

Stardate: 2374.09.06
The Charon – Captain’s Ready Room – 13:19 hours
/--\\ Bridge to Captain Gavison. /--\\

Kelsey blinked away the glazed memories of loss and swallowed the hatred that soured his pallet as the commlink chirped.

“Gavison here.”

/--\\ The Cerberus survivors are all aboard. The few wounded have been transported directly to sickbay where Doctor Hamilton is looking in on them, and the surviving senior officers have been shown their quarters. /--\\

Kel rose from his seat and made his way towards the door. “Acknowledged,” he muttered in response to Kennedy’s report. “I want that meeting with Mac and his officers right away, Mr. Kennedy. Clear the mess hall, and make sure that there’s something on the table for them to refresh themselves with.”

The door slid open revealing the bridge. Lt. Kennedy wasn’t present, having been sent about his duties by Commander Fletcher, but Jonathan was there. Kel strode purposefully across the room to the turbo lift as he finished up his orders and received confirmation from the Ops head.

“Mr. Fletcher, Talon, Mr. Kato, and Jones, you’re with me. Mr. Mas’Riat, you’ve the bridge,” Kelsey would have preferred to have left someone with more experience in charge, but he needed these with him to hear Jack’s report. The more minds at work to determine what had occurred, the more likely they were to come out of this mess on top.

Ten minutes later, Captain Gavison entered the mess hall, his senior staff following in his wake. On most starships, the crew was allowed to decorate the mess hall as they saw fit: the Charon’s was a memorial to those lost in battle. The names of those known by the crew who’d fallen to the Dominion-Cardassian alliance were glued to the surfaces of the walls on replicated brass plates. It hadn’t been Kelsey who’d directed them to do so, but he wholly approved of the décor. He distinctly remembered the ensign who’d placed the first plaque in memory of his brother who’d been killed during the Battle of Kador III. Others had quickly followed, but it wasn’t until Kelsey had placed the plaque of that very ensign who'd started it all had it become tradition on board the Charon. This was a crew that would always remember. It strengthened their resolve, tempered their mettle, and gave them something to chew on as the pain of the war continued to develop.

Amongst this morose memorial sat Jack MacTavish and his officers, one of which Kelsey recognized.

“Mac,” Gavison stopped in front of his old friend and embraced him, immediately dissolving all formalities in the room as they ended the welcome with a warrior’s clasp and grim smiles. Nodding to the large security officer, Kel offered him a serious expression, careful not to show his teeth. It had been a long time since he’d seen Rrowl.

“There’s a lot to discuss,” Kelsey said as he motioned for everyone to be seated. “So, we’ll get the formalities out of the way forthwith.” The captain proceeded to introduce each of those officers who’d arrived with him, Lt. Kennedy having already made his introduction to Mac’s team when they’d beamed aboard. Once Jack had endured the same formality, Kel settled back in his chair, his brows coming together causing his haggard visage to become very foreboding.

“What happened, Mac? Was it the Romulans like so many of us already believe? Mr. Kato and Talon have been working hard to put the Charon’s equipment to use in order to help with the investigation, but I’ve already received missives from Headquarters wondering after our findings, and at the risk of sounding treasonous, what I want to report back to Starfleet is that the bastards that did this are cold, and dead.” Kelsey’s tone was wicked enough to send shivers up and down Lt. Kennedy’s spine. “There’ll be no tribunal, no Starfleet justice, here, Mac. This is Frontier Justice that we’re going to enact—“ The captain eyed each of those at the table in turn. “—and I defy anyone at this table to argue that particular with me.”

Stardate: 2374.09.06
The Charon – Sickbay – 12:51 hours
Lt. Jon Hash leaned against the wall, his arms folded across his chest, a bitter scowl on his face. Had he been able to save any of his cigars, he might have been chewing on one right then. It was something he did when bothered and contemplating that which was bothering him. He never lit up, that was far too obnoxious a thing to do on a starship, but he chewed them nonetheless.

He was watching the Charon’s medical crew at work, eyeing the semi-conscious Romulan that lay on one of the five beds positioned against the wall, her vitals showing over her head on the wall display. Her companions hadn’t been allowed to join her, being beamed aboard and escorted to the cargo bay with all of those survivors who weren’t being accommodated in crew quarters, much to their dismay. The Centurion hadn’t been in any condition to argue.

There’d been a few others from the Cerberus brought into sickbay as well. A couple of security personnel who’d been rattled and shaken when their ASRV had been caught in the blast shockwave, an engineer who’d looked like he’d taken the loss of his crewmates rather poorly, and a science officer who was recovering from dehydration. But Jon wasn’t interested in any of them; it was the Centurion that held his attention, that had his brow furrowed, his jaw clenching and unclenching, and his blood boiling.

He had to remain impartial, capable of administering aid when aid was needed, but right then he was debating providing the woman with a stimulant so he could shake a confession out of her. Something deep inside told him how ridiculous such a desire was, and it was that small voice of reason that kept him against the wall.

“All vitals are stable,” one of the medical technicians stated matter-of-factly as he compared the vitals to the library records on the PADD he held in his hands.

“She isn’t dying, you moron,” Jon pushed away from the wall and strolled across the floor in a wide circle, as though getting too close to the woman would break his resolve to remain impartial. “She was knocked over by a clumsy oaf of a security detail. Check the condition of the muscles in her back, if you can find it without looking at that damned book, that is. It’s my understanding that she hurt her back due to that imbecile’s pigeon-toed dance.”

The technician stared at Hash with raised eyebrows as though he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. Blowing air between his clenched teeth, Jon walked purposefully towards the man, every bit the picture of disgust.

“You are, apparently, either hard of hearing, or the mere presence of my genius has left you in an unprecedented stupor,” Grabbing the man by his elbow, Jon directed him towards the examination table. “Get your playmate over there, and the two of you move this Romulan centurion to the table so we can do a full body scan. A f-u-l-l b-o-d-y s-c-a-n, you know?” Jon articulated the last sentence especially carefully and slowly so as not to confuse the tech.

“Excuse me?” The man’s expression had sweetened to one of ripe dismay. He glanced about, perhaps looking for a sign of his commanding officer, Chief Hamilton, but seeing how the Chief was off with that sick engineer in the dental area (he’d been concerned about contaminating other patients with whatever illness the man had contracted), the technician found himself alone with the unorthodox lieutenant and two other crewmen.

“For the love of all of the Klingon gods,” Jon barked. “Just get that damned woman on the table!”

The response time still wasn’t what Hash had hoped it would be, but had Centurion Sienae woken entirely from her hazy dream at that moment, she would have found herself being moved to the table in the center of the room. Once there, Jon initiated the full body scan. He didn’t know what he was looking for specifically—part of him wanted to find some portion of a swallowed explosive detonation device, part of him wanted to actually figure out how a simple accident in an escape pod could result in the woman being incapacitated, and in need of sedatives. Age-old relations bred hatred in a number of people, but pure and simple scientific curiosity could beat tradition into dust in a heartbeat.

“Well, spank me and call me Shirley,” Jon muttered as the readings came in while the device passed repeatedly up and down her body. Peering at the musculature that had been created in holographic detail hovering over her body, the doctor reached up and turned her generated body on its side with a simple flick of his wrist.

“Here,” he said, circling a cluster of nerves near the spine so that the medical technicians could see what he was talking about. “What’s that?”

“Severe nerve damage,” the first man responded quietly.

Jon paused for a moment and gave him a confused look. “Can’t understand a simple command, but he seems to be somewhat educated in medicine nonetheless. Wonders never cease.

“Yes, Jasmine, it appears to be nerve damage, and I’d agree with you in the categorization of its severity, though should you ever tell anyone what I just said, I’ll hide your uniforms so you’re forced to prance around the decks of this boat wearing your lacy pink undergarments. And trust me when I say no one wants to see that.”

Hash turned back to the holographic display and “grabbed” that section of Sienae’s back, expanding it to show more minute detail.

“Can you heal it?” The technician had apparently forgotten his most recent lambasting as he peered over Hash’s shoulder at the destroyed nerves.

“Good lord, Jasmine,” Jon cocked an eyebrow at the man. “Your breath on my ear is sending tingles up and down my spine, but the odor coming off your breath is enough to cause me to hurl. Back off, girlie! Dinner first, and then maybe, if you’re lucky, I’ll let you clean between my toes.

“Much better. Now, let’s talk repairs, shall we?” Hash turned his attention back to the Centurion’s displayed back. “With nerve transplants, and a very intrusive surgery we could gift the woman with six to ten follow up visits filled with painful growth stimulants that would likely result in her being exhausted and without an appetite, but that’s wholly contingent on being given access to state-of-the-art surgical equipment the likes of which this boat doesn’t even come close to having on board.”

“So, there’s nothing we can do?” Another of the technicians asked, her eyes wide with fear at the reprisal of her counterpart’s humiliation.

“Nothing we can do?” Jon muttered, his eyes now narrowed at the real Sienae’s pale face. “Oh, don’t give up on the patience just yet, Sister. We could always dose her up with truth serum and jam so many questions down her throat about all of those people who died on the Cerberus—“

“Doctor!?” The woman’s mouth dropped open at the suggestion.

“What?” Jon continued to stare at the Romulan, his face impassive.

“Not without Captain Gavison’s orders, certainly!”

“Not without…” Jon frowned. He wasn’t in his sickbay. “No, Centurion Khnialmnae, I’m not going to interrogate you. That particular pleasure belongs to Captains MacTavish and Gavison. I am, however, going to make damn sure you’re fully cognoscente and ready to stand before them when they call on you.

“Jasmine!” Jon glanced about until he’d found the first technician he’d tortured. “Bring me some stimulants…” Lt. Hash proceeded to give orders on how to prepare the concoction that would provide the Romulan with relief for her pain as well as that which would wake her from her dazed slumber. In time, those in the sickbay had responded well enough to provide him with a hypospray of his own special brew, and another filled with enough stimulant to pop her off the table.

“First, let’s wake her,” Jon said as he leaned over Sienae and pressed the hypospray device to her exposed throat. Settling back he watched her come to, the realization of her pain evident on her face.

“This is the part where I’m supposed to be polite and ask you how you’re feeling,” Hash sneered. “But, I already know you hurt like hell. I saw what your service to the Empire earned you, Centurion. A crap post that no one in the Romulan Empire would volunteer for, and a lifetime of crippling pain. I wish I could say I felt sorry for you—ah, who m’ kidding: I don’t really.”

Leaning forward, Jon pressed the hyposray against her neck once more, this time it was the one filled with the pain killer. As he leaned close, he whispered, “If I find out you were responsible for killing the Cerberus, the pain you feel in your back will be but a small taste of what I’ll visit upon you, Centurion Sienae I’Mhiessan Khnialmnae. This I promise you.”

The dosage shot into her system backed by the power of the device, coursing through her veins to attack her damaged back within a couple of seconds of the injection. During that time, Lt. Hash moved away from her and replaced the medical devices he’d used on the tray near the table. Turning to the two security personnel who’d sat idly by witnessing the whole thing, already having been treated for their minor injuries he growled, “Return her to her people, and keep a close eye on her. I don’t imagine that the captains are going to want my work undone anytime soon.”

Kelsey remained still for a moment while he considered her. In his estimation she looked on edge—not nervous, but…coiled; as though ready for immediate action. As a matter-of-fact, Gavison wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d learned that she’d been ready to spring since birth, and at the same time, he knew that her countenance was more of a newly acquired flavor.

“I know what your orders are, Gunnie,” he said in a low voice. “Is there something else I can help you with?”

“Sir, might I inquire,” MacQueen started right in; there was no bashfulness in this woman. “What is known of the Cerberus’ disappearance? My twin sister is the NCO of the MACOs on board the Cerberus.”

“Right now, Gunnie,” Kelsey said in an even tone, watching the mettle of her face with a scrutinizing gaze. “We know absolutely nothing. The Cerberus disappeared from all Starfleet sensors…” He would have continued, but the picturesque MACO was staring out the window to the left, a faraway look in her eye. Kelsey gave her but a few seconds to daydream about what he knew from experience was the worst of nightmares before clearing his throat and rising. “Unless there’s more to your inquiry, Gunnie, I’ve a full day ahead of me. You’re welcome to join us on the bridge once we reach the Cerberus’ last known coordinates.”

The face turned to his, but the eyes did not see him. "Yes Sir, I will be there, Brianna is fine."

She saluted and departed his ready room with a snappy about face. Only a woodsie aroma left in her wake was evidence she had been there.

Stardate: 2374.09.06
The Charon – Sickbay – 12:51 hours
There’d been a few others from the Cerberus brought into sickbay as well. But Jon wasn’t interested in any of them; it was the Centurion that held his attention, that had his brow furrowed, his jaw clenching and unclenching, and his blood boiling.

He had to remain impartial, capable of administering aid when aid was needed, but right then he was debating providing the woman with a stimulant so he could shake a confession out of her. Something deep inside told him how ridiculous such a desire was, and it was that small voice of reason that kept him against the wall.

“All vitals are stable,” one of the medical technicians stated matter-of-factly as he compared the vitals to the library records on the PADD he held in his hands.

“She isn’t dying, you moron,” Jon pushed away from the wall and strolled across the floor in a wide circle, as though getting too close to the woman would break his resolve to remain impartial. “She was knocked over by a clumsy oaf of a security detail. Check the condition of the muscles in her back, if you can find it without looking at that damned book, that is. It’s my understanding that she hurt her back due to that imbecile’s pigeon-toed dance.”

“You are, apparently, either hard of hearing, or the mere presence of my genius has left you in an unprecedented stupor,” Grabbing the man by his elbow, Jon directed him towards the examination table. “Get your playmate over there, and the two of you move this Romulan centurion to the table so we can do a full body scan. A f-u-l-l b-o-d-y s-c-a-n, you know?” Jon articulated the last sentence especially carefully and slowly so as not to confuse the tech.

“Excuse me?” The man’s expression had sweetened to one of ripe dismay. He glanced about, perhaps looking for a sign of his commanding officer, Chief Hamilton, but seeing how the Chief was off with that sick engineer in the dental area (he’d been concerned about contaminating other patients with whatever illness the man had contracted), the technician found himself alone with the unorthodox lieutenant and two other crewmen.

“For the love of all of the Klingon gods,” Jon barked. “Just get that damned woman on the table!”
There was no mistaken the rancor in his voice it cut like a hot knife through snow. He was angry, as he moved about her bed Sienae could almost feel him, how her circled her bed like a Ter’ak, a hunting cat noted for it stealth and cunning and for unprovoked attacks. Luckily the pain medication was still in effect so when she was moved so unceremoniously she did not feel pain when she was set down less than softly. She could not blame them, she was sure the crew of both ships felt that the Romulans were responsible for the loss of the Cerberus. Only she could not be, as she had told MacTavish, she could vouch for S’Talon, Rhiana and Shiarrael, but no the others. So the Doctor’s wrath was understandable.

The response time still wasn’t what Hash had hoped it would be, but had Centurion Sienae woken entirely from her hazy dream at that moment, she would have found herself being moved to the table in the center of the room. Once there, Jon initiated the full body scan. He didn’t know what he was looking for specifically—part of him wanted to find some portion of a swallowed explosive detonation device, part of him wanted to actually figure out how a simple accident in an escape pod could result in the woman being incapacitated, and in need of sedatives. Age-old relations bred hatred in a number of people, but pure and simple scientific curiosity could beat tradition into dust in a heartbeat.

“Well, spank me and call me Shirley,” Jon muttered as the readings came in while the device passed repeatedly up and down her body. Peering at the musculature that had been created in holographic detail hovering over her body, the doctor reached up and turned her generated body on its side with a simple flick of his wrist.

“Here,” he said, circling a cluster of nerves near the spine so that the medical technicians could see what he was talking about. “What’s that?”

“Severe nerve damage,” the first man responded quietly.

Jon paused for a moment and gave him a confused look. Can’t understand a simple command, but he seems to be somewhat educated in medicine nonetheless. Wonders never cease.

“Yes, Jasmine, it appears to be nerve damage, and I’d agree with you in the categorization of its severity, though should you ever tell anyone what I just said, I’ll hide your uniforms so you’re forced to prance around the decks of this boat wearing your lacy pink undergarments. And trust me when I say no one wants to see that.”

Hash turned back to the holographic display and “grabbed” that section of Sienae’s back, expanding it to show more minute detail.

“Can you heal it?” The technician had apparently forgotten his most recent lambasting as he peered over Hash’s shoulder at the destroyed nerves.

“Good lord, Jasmine,” Jon cocked an eyebrow at the man. “Your breath on my ear is sending tingles up and down my spine, but the odor coming off your breath is enough to cause me to hurl. Back off, girlie! Dinner first, and then maybe, if you’re lucky, I’ll let you clean between my toes.

“Much better. Now, let’s talk repairs, shall we?” Hash turned his attention back to the Centurion’s displayed back. “With nerve transplants, and a very intrusive surgery we could gift the woman with six to ten follow up visits filled with painful growth stimulants that would likely result in her being exhausted and without an appetite, but that’s wholly contingent on being given access to state-of-the-art surgical equipment the likes of which this boat doesn’t even come close to having on board.”

“So, there’s nothing we can do?” Another of the technicians asked, her eyes wide with fear at the reprisal of her counterpart’s humiliation.

“Nothing we can do?” Jon muttered, his eyes now narrowed at the real Sienae’s pale face. “Oh, don’t give up on the patience just yet, Sister. We could always dose her up with truth serum and jam so many questions down her throat about all of those people who died on the Cerberus...”

“Doctor!?” The woman’s mouth dropped open at the suggestion.

“What?” Jon continued to stare at the Romulan, his face impassive.

“Not without Captain Gavison’s orders, certainly!”

“Not without…” Jon frowned. He wasn’t in his sickbay. “No, Centurion Khnialmnae, I’m not going to interrogate you. That particular pleasure belongs to Captains MacTavish and Gavison. I am, however, going to make damn sure you’re fully cognoscente and ready to stand before them when they call on you.
So much for bed side manner, thought Sienae. She would shrugg it off if she could but did not want to let the “Doctor” know she had head him

“Jasmine!” Jon glanced about until he’d found the first technician he’d tortured. “Bring me some stimulants…” Lt. Hash proceeded to give orders on how to prepare the concoction that would provide the Romulan with relief for her pain as well as that which would wake her from her dazed slumber. In time, those in the sickbay had responded well enough to provide him with a hypospray of his own special brew, and another filled with enough stimulant to pop her off the table.

“First, let’s wake her,” Jon said as he leaned over Sienae and pressed the hypospray device to her exposed throat. Settling back he watched her come to, the realization of her pain evident on her face.

“This is the part where I’m supposed to be polite and ask you how you’re feeling,” Hash sneered. “But, I already know you hurt like hell. I saw what your service to the Empire earned you, Centurion. A crap post that no one in the Romulan Empire would volunteer for, and a lifetime of crippling pain. I wish I could say I felt sorry for you—ah, who m’ kidding: I don’t really.”

Leaning forward, Jon pressed the hyposray against her neck once more, this time it was the one filled with the pain killer. As he leaned close, he whispered, “If I find out you were responsible for killing the Cerberus, the pain you feel in your back will be but a small taste of what I’ll visit upon you, Centurion Sienae I’Mhiessan Khnialmnae. This I promise you.”
The dosage shot into her system backed by the power of the device, coursing through her veins to attack her damaged back within a couple of seconds of the injection. During that time, Lt. Hash moved away from her and replaced the medical devices he’d used on the tray near the table. Turning to the two security personnel who’d sat idly by witnessing the whole thing, already having been treated for their minor injuries he growled, “Return her to her people, and keep a close eye on her. I don’t imagine that the captains are going to want my work undone anytime soon.”

Sienae swung her legs from the table and righted herself hoping that there was no flash of pain. When none came she put her feet on the floor and started to join to 2 security personnel, then she paused and turned.

“Lieutenant, it was not Anderson’s fault, there were 8 of us in the ASRV with the Cloaking Device and other things.” She looked Nash in the eyes the same way she did MacTavish. Many had trouble meeting her golden stare so unusual to see on the normally dark eyed Romulans.

"Doctor one other thing I would like to day. YOur anger is understandable but to focus down old paths may well be unjust as well as unfair. The truth in this matter has yet to be discovered."

“Thank you.” It was simply said with no inflection to make it sound mocking, “Jolan Tru.” Which sort of translated to “Good Day.”

As she steps into the room where the others are held she finds a place to sit. “I will live.”

Security had taken all their computers and even her personal two boxes. She wondered what they would think when they opened them up and saw what was inside. One box held a Japanese Kyoto and in a compartment under it were a set of 13 Japanese kimonos, the other box held two sets of Samurai swords, one for practice and the others were of imperial quality having been folded over 60,000 times, though Star Fleet Security would probably, not know that to them they would just be swords. Then there was her complete copy of the Bushido on her computer in Japanese and Romulan.

"Sorry I can not break the boredom with music, but perhaps Rhiana and Shiarrel can entertain us with recitations of Romulan erotic poetry."

Stardate: 2374.09.06
The Charon - Bridge – 1230 hours
"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.”
Lt. Cmdr Talon was still giving orders through his comm to his security personnel, setting up full details at the transporters, in Medical, and in the docking bays, when he over heard the XO’s orders to Kennedy and whirled to face the Cmdr.

“SIR!”, the Lyran stated forcefully, “I insist on full security details on all survivors. They should be quarantined until a full security and medical sweep is complete. I have assigned details to the Medical Bay, Transporter rooms, and docking bays. We must keep them contained until we find out what happened.”

(Response if any)

Talon will insist on his precautions and if the XO overrides him he will bring up the fact that security is his responsibility and that he will do what he feels is necessary.

He will leave the bridge to head the security detail assigned to bring the Cerebeus Command staff aboard. When he hears that some of the Romulans have been transferred to Medical he will assign extra men there. He will keep all uninjured survivors in the docking areas until they are cleared with a full security sensor sweep for weapons or other dangerous devices, and a full medical scan to determine if any are not what they appeared. He thought it highly likely that a Romulan saboteur could be disguised as a crewman.

Once all were aboard he would check in with the medical security team before heading back to the bridge to report to the Captain.

Stardate: 2374.09.06
The Charon – Bridge – 1319 hours
“Mr. Fletcher, Talon, Mr. Kato, and Jones, you’re with me. Mr. Mas’Riat, you’ve the bridge,” The Captain ordered as he came in and then headed off the bridge.
While they traveled to the mess hall where the Cerebeus Senior Officers had been sent, after being cleared of course, he filled in the Captain on his security measures.

- All survivors were being screened medically and for dangerous items.
- The Senior Staff were cleared already but several other crewmen remained.
- He still kept all survivors isolated and under guard until all had been checked out.
- He had extra men guarding the medical bay where at least some of the Romulans were having their injuries tended to. This didn’t seem to please him and he sounded as if they were aiding the enemy.

Stardate: 2374.09.06
The Charon – Mess Hall – 1330 hours
As they Charon’s Captain walked in to greet Capt MacTavish, Lt Cmdr Talon paused just inside the room and his eyes immediately went to the Kzinti standing there. Talon’s slit-like eyes narrowed and his hand instinctively went to the modified phaser in the holster hanging from his side. Seeing his people's hereditary enemy standing there only a few yards away caused a conflict within the Lyran. He had been raised to hate the Kzinti, had lost friends and family to the endless struggle that had raged for centuries between the two races, and he found it hard not to draw his weapon and burn down the Cerebeus’s officer right there on the spot.

A low growl began deep in his throat, a impulsive thing he couldn’t stop and the struggle to maintain his discipline was evident to anyone that might look upon him. He stood rigidly, fighting the urge to kill, to feel his enemy’s blood upon his hands.

The Captain’s words to the Cerebeus’s Commanding Officer did not register with the Lyran, so much concentration and control was needed to keep him from launching an attack at Lt. Cmdr Rrowl. The sound of his growl grew slightly to it couldn’t help but be heard by any of those present in the room.

Rescue operations had begun. They got updates on pods being tractored and brought on board one my one. Rhiana (Ree-a-nay)realized that they had not be among the first to be brought in she had the idea they were among the last ones tractored into the Charon. However before that the Centurion was beamed off the ship directly to the Medical facilities. Rhiana wss glad of that. She had not like keeping the Centurion under for so long.

Rhiana wanted to go with her and tell the doctor what was wrong but she was not allowed to, though she did protest to no avail. "I am the one that has been treating her. I am the acting medic."

"All of the rest of you will be confined to the Cargo Bay," can a reply, "until you are through with medical screening and security clears you.

"That could take forever," Rhiana thought

The remaining Romulans. were let out of the Pod one by one. Their PADDs were confiscated and they were isolated from the rest of the Cerebus's crew and watched closely by multiple security personnel. Rhiana took her clue from S'Talon's behavior who ignored their treatment and went about his business without acknowledging what was being done to them.

It was some while later after Rhiana found a comfortable enough place to sit that the Centurion was brought back looking better than she had been when she left. Rhiana would have loved to have known what they had done to achieve this state. If given the opportunity she would have to ask the medical staff what they used to help the Centurion.

Rhiana's head shot up as the Centurion mentioned erotic Poetry. She shot a speaking look to Shiarrael wondering if she had mentioned it to anyone. With a quickly lift of her brows. Shiarrael shook her head quickly, no.

"I had copies of many of the finest examples of Romulan erotic Poetry and Prose. I shared some of my files with Shiarrael" she responded promptly covering up her small hesitation before replying to the Centurion's question. I do believe that some of them may have been intercepted by Star Fleet security, but they were encrypted with a security algorithm of the 19th degree of my own making.

Other than the installation directions that had be downloaded by the RSN for this operation and some medical and private files there was nothing else on my PADD. Actually they just copied my "allowed" files to a new drive and installed it. The erotic prose and poetry was allowed to remain. I did a deep security scan on to make sure nothing was hidden on it that could be intercepted by others.

"S'Talon also had them all checked out as well before we got them back for Romulan Naval Security, though I just made double sure when it got back."

She gave a quick look at S'Talon as she said that. She liked the man he was solid and staunch. More than that she had also begun to trust him something that is not easy for RSN personnel. You never knew who someone really was. She tired to stay away from the affairs of the Tal Shiar and the Tal Diann. Sometimes it was better not to take sides so one did not get caught up in their altercations.

"S'Talon nodded briskly. "I would have expected you to Lt. Rhiana. A person is responsible for what is on their PADD. Whether they put it there or not."

"Yes Sir," Rhianna replies crisply. Then settled back down to wait.

Brianna McQueen waited with patience for her pod to be pulled and the team processed. However it was with a hard fought patience. The Crewman, Stan Stowbrieski, who had gotten sick during their sojourn in the pod was transported to sick bay. She had wanted to believe that he was making it up to perhaps get out of dealing with her when they got to the Charon. Not that that was going to happen, she thought grimly. However he got steadily worse and looked a wreck.

Brianna prepped her team before they were tractored in. WE will be thoroughly checked out by security and medical. You will comply with all their requests in a polite and respectful manner. If I hear of any problems. the offender will face me for a training session. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Mst. Sgt.," came the prompt response of her well train team. WE will get through there when we can, then we will have a debrief ourselves.

Brianna knew all of her team well, several had been with her for years. They could poke them or probe them and search every iota of information about them and unless someone was a shapeshifter, they were who they were. However there was that some niggle of possible doubt. Such a thing was possible and it made her uncomfortable.

Brianna lead her team out of the pod into what she had expected, lots of security and medical staff. "Keep the team together."

The first Security person she sees she hails with a call and a wave of her hand. She will step over to them if they do not respond promptly.

"Mst. Sgt. Brianna McQueen, of MACO team Alpha. I need to make an immediate report to the Charon's Chief Security Officer or the Cerebus's Chief of Security, Valberg whoever is available first, and if that going to take more than a few minutes then get me your highest ranking officer in here now." The "now" had two meanings by the tone of her voice the one "in here, now" and NOW, meaning move it."

Stardate: 2374.09.06
The Charon – Captain’s Ready Room – 13:19 hours
Docking bay - 13:27 -
/--\\\\ Bridge to Captain Gavison. /--\\\\

Kelsey blinked away the glazed memories of loss and swallowed the hatred that soured his pallet as the commlink chirped.

“Gavison here.”

/--\\\\ The Cerberus survivors are all aboard. The few wounded have been transported directly to sickbay where Doctor Hamilton is looking in on them, and the surviving senior officers have been shown their quarters. /--\\\\

Kel rose from his seat and made his way towards the door. “Acknowledged,” he muttered in response to Kennedy’s report. “I want that meeting with Mac and his officers right away, Mr. Kennedy. Clear the mess hall, and make sure that there’s something on the table for them to refresh themselves with.”

The door slid open revealing the bridge. Lt. Kennedy wasn’t present, having been sent about his duties by Commander Fletcher, but Jonathan was there. Kel strode purposefully across the room to the turbo lift as he finished up his orders and received confirmation from the Ops head.
Of to the side,of the Turbo Lift on the bridge, taking a guard stance, without direction. Rhiannon MacQueen waited throughout the retrieval of the ASRVs, she was in her blacks with her rifle in proper position. Her team, for now, were down in the docking bay on duty with naval security. Captian Galvison stepped out of his Ready Room, and quickly scanned his Bridge.

“Mr. Fletcher, Talon, Mr. Kato, and Jones, you’re with me. Mr. Mas’Riat, you’ve the bridge,” Kelsey would have preferred to have left someone with more experience in charge, but he needed these with him to hear Jack’s report. The more minds at work to determine what had occurred, the more likely they were to come out of this mess on top.
Rhiannon snapped a salute, “Captain, permission to rejoin my team.”

(Assuming this is granted)

Docking Bay - 13:27
After the Captain and key officers depart, Rhiannon takes the turbo lift down to the level of the docking bay being used to receive the crew of the Cerberus. She walks in on a familiar voice demanding, for lack of a gentler voice, to see a high ranking Security Officer.”
“What is the problem,” Rhiannon says by way of greeting to her twin, Aquamarine eyes met and seemed to merge. No words were needed, each felt the relief in the other as they locked eyes. “Is there something I can do for you?” Both were in MACO black, and were almost mirror images, except that Rhiannon was fully armed.

Other eyes were locked on the two, Alpha and Beta teams were staring at split images of their sergeants.

Brianna quickly gives her twin a look and then a condensed report while blue fire flashes in her normally emerald green eyes. “Later I will fill you in. Who is Chief of Security on the Charon?”

“Lt, Cmd. Talon is CSO.”

“I want to press formal charges against a Cerebus crewman. We have not been cleared yet, and I need to see this through to proper channels. Rhi, if you can expedite my complaint to the proper authorities, I would appreciate it. Let’s do it by the book.”

"Who is it, and what did he do?

Brianna quickly gives her the name and relates Mr. Stowbriesky's actions as the MACO'S were attempting to abandon ship. To endanger anyone like, let alone MACOs and her twin brought blue fire to Rhiannon's eyes. Mr Stan Stowbriesky made Rhiannon's s**t list.

"Where is he," Rhiannon voice was cold as glacier as she looked around ready to march the man to the brig.

"In Sickbay, he was acting oddly while we were on the ASRV."

Rhiannon looks to her second in command and gives him a set of hand signals that let him know he was back in charge. She then motions to Corporal Allison, one of her team, “With me.”

She heads out leaving her team with her second in command.

"Corporal, you double time it to Sickbay and put your eyes and your weapon on this crewman Stowbriesky and do not take them off.

Mess Hall- 13:37
Rhiannon does double time herself to where the officers of both ships were meeting in the Mess Hall. The door opened and she stepped in. As Gavison had noticed before she was not one mince or hem and haw, She moved directly to Lt Commander Talon.

She saluted smartly, resting the barrel on her rifle in her left had to do so.

"Sir, I am carrying a report for MACO Master Sergeant Brianna MacQueen of the Cerberus, she wanted to alert security as to the actions a Cerberus crewman for insubordination and for trying to take off in an unloaded ASRV, thus stranding her MACO team on the Cerberus."

Stardate: 2374.09.06
USS Charon - Bridge – 12:30 hours
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."
Kato studied the data he'd fed into the computer and checked it against what the sensors were currently reading.

"No, sir," he said. "None of the pods are in imminent danger. We might beam aboard the personell from the damaged pods first, though. Just to make sure."

Kato mulled over the data one more time, the blue glow of the sensor screen illuminating his face. He stroked his beard thoughtfully, staring at the screen. It looked as if everything was in order...

Wait...
"That's not right..." Kato said, completely under his breath; he doubted anyone else would have heard him. He silently compared the data he'd just fed into the computer from his initial scans with the data currently coming in from the scans. There were 85 survivors total, and yet the computer was telling him that there were 84 humanoid vital signs scanned in total. Further complicating the matter was the fact that the sensors were picking up 85 humanoid vital signs currently...

Kato fed the data from the new scans into the computer, and punched in a command for it to analyze. In seconds, he had a new readout of the data from the scans on his screen - once again showing 84 humanoid vital signs.

He took care to scan each individual pod, doing the math in his head...yes, the total was 85.

But why was the computer, when it calculated the total lifesigns of those in the pods, registering only 84? A starship's computer being non-functional in the simplest task of adding numbers simply didn't make sense, especially since, to Kato's knowledge, everything else was functioning properly.

Kato 3 silently fed the data into his PADD.

Stardate: 2374.09.06
The Charon – Captain’s Ready Room – 13:19 hours
The door slid open, and Kato turned from his console, his eyes following the Captain as he stepped onto the bridge. He quickly returned his view to his console. The space debris they'd detected was being tractored in to the Charon. He had detected nothing more than pieces of the hull, but they might, after all, provide some clue as to what happened out there.

“Mr. Fletcher, Talon, Mr. Kato, and Jones, you’re with me. Mr. Mas’Riat, you’ve the bridge,” As the captain spoke, Kato rose and nodded to an ensign nearby who took over at his conn.

Hardly ten minutes later, Kato found himself in the mess hall, following closely behind the captain. He hadn't been on the mess hall of the Charon yet, and the decor depressed him. Captain Gavison didn't seem to care for one minute about dispelling the rumors that the Charon was a barge of death.

He was met with the sight of Commander Jack MacTavish, captain of the Cerberus, and his senior staff. He sized them all up immediately - a motley crew like that of the Charon. From the way Captain Gavison greeted MacTavish and his security officer, a cat-person much like Talon, Kato took it that they were old friends.

“There’s a lot to discuss,” Kelsey said as he motioned for everyone to be seated. “So, we’ll get the formalities out of the way forthwith.”
He sat and waited patiently as the pleasantries were exchanged, merely bowing his head slightly and smiling as the captain introduced him to the surviving staff of the Cerberus. Finally, the meat of the discussion began.

“What happened, Mac? Was it the Romulans like so many of us already believe? Mr. Kato and Talon have been working hard to put the Charon’s equipment to use in order to help with the investigation, but I’ve already received missives from Headquarters wondering after our findings, and at the risk of sounding treasonous, what I want to report back to Starfleet is that the bastards that did this are cold, and dead. There’ll be no tribunal, no Starfleet justice, here, Mac. This is Frontier Justice that we’re going to enact—“ The captain eyed each of those at the table in turn. “—and I defy anyone at this table to argue that particular with me.”
(After waiting for Captain MacTavish to reply, so as to not be rude).

"To the end of determining the culprit here, captain," Kato chimed in, "We're doing everything we can to determine the prime mover of the Cerberus' fate. We've tractored in most of the space debris, and sciences is looking it over right now. It's mostly fragments of the hull, so I'm of the opinion that our clues might be minimal. However, engineering is sending over a few extra hands to help with the analysis; we're hopeful that we'll come up with something."

(Room for interaction as you see fit)

The Lt. Commander took a breath and glanced around at the faces in the room, looking almost hesitant to speak. After a few seconds of silence, he held up his PADD.

"In addition, gentlemen," he continued, "Captain Gavison told me to scan every detail of the pods as they came in. I did, but my sensors picked up some anomolous readings concerning the lifesigns aboard the ASRVs as they came in. It's a mathematical discrepency, and one that shouldn't be a problem with a Starship's computers.

"As I fed the data from the scans into my console, it automatically computed it, adding together the number of humanoid lifesigns detected in each pod. There are 85, as we know, that survived. And individual scans detected this. However, for some reason, the computer, when the data is fed into it, reports that there are 84 total. I haven't been able to figure out why. When I scan all the pods, it reports that there are 84 lifesigns, once more. There's either some kind of sneaky glitch somewhere in the algorhythms, or there was something not quite right going on in those pods..."

Kato's voice trailed off. He almost stuttered, betraying his usual confident, optimistic tone. If Kato 3 was anything, he was efficient, and it was clear that this elusive error had baffled him. He shook his head. Turning to addressing Captain Gavison, he concluded, "I can't explain it, sir."

(Edit: error in earlier post; I read that there were 81 starfleet personelle that survived, but left out the four survivors from the Romulan Star Empire. edited to reflect this.)

Stardate: 2374.09.06
USS Charon - Bridge – 12:33

Commander Fletcher stared out into the dark of space and allowed his mind to wander to thoughts of escape pods, and more.

Perhaps Miranda was trapped aboard one of these metallic bubbles, herself. Even though he had known for a couple of days at this point, Jonathon's mind refused to fully accept the fact that she was gone. After all, he reasoned, there had been no report of a vessel being dispatched to check the scene for survivors... perhaps there was still a chance.

Of course, he knew that such thoughts were futile. The reason there hadn't been a S&R mission was that there was no point. Had Starfleet had any reason to believe there might have been survivors, a ship would have been dispatched post haste, just as the Charon had been. Miranda was dead; he'd have to accept that fact.

So lost was Jonathon in his own thoughts that, for a moment, he didn't process what Commander Talon was saying.

"SIR!", the Lyran stated forcefully, “I insist on full security details on all survivors. They should be quarantined until a full security and medical sweep is complete. I have assigned details to the Medical Bay, Transporter rooms, and docking bays. We must keep them contained until we find out what happened.”

Try as he might, Jonathon did not particularly like Commander Talon. The Lyran was agressive, impetuous, and brutally cruel. Had he entered the Academy under any other set of circumstances, Jonathon was quite certain he would have washed out long ago - but as it was, he'd apparently been passed through in some sort of misguided attempt at proving the Federation's dedication to species diversity.

Not to say that he wasn't a competant, even brilliant, officer; on their last mission, it had been Talon that had saved the Charon and everyone aboard. Even so, Jonathon knew well that there was a reason the savage Talon had been assigned to this ship - were he lost in battle, Starfleet would not weep.

"Mister Talon," Fletcher answered, "I never suggested that the survivors would not go through security screening. I am aware of the captain's orders. That being said, these people are our comrades, our brethren in arms - these are NOT enemies, nor are they prisoners of war. For God's sake, man, they were assigned the same mission as us! Screen them, ask questions of those that you feel deserve it, keep an eye on those that may warrant it, but they will be treated with the respect that they deserve."

The last was not a question.

Then, it happened. Talon cited that security was his responsibility, and that he would do what he felt was necessary.

Commander Fletcher was normally a reserved, quiet man. Much as he disliked the CTO's mannerisms, he could not argue with the results, so he normally let the Lyran's brutality and general unappealing nature slide. Today, though, the Charon's XO had had enough.

"Belay that nonsense!" he bellowed, coming to his feet from the captain's chair. "You will follow orders, Mister Talon - THAT is what you will do! Computer," Fletcher barked, "how many crew members are currently serving aboard the Charon?"

=/\\= The USS Charon currently has fifty-six active crew. =/\\= came the computer's feminine reply.

Fletcher leveled his gaze at Talon and spoke in an icy tone. "Short of setting up a force field in the cargo hold and keeping all of the Cerberus' crew prisoner within, how do you propose on keeping full security details on eighty-odd survivors? Will you assign each member of this crew a survivor or two to watch around the clock?"

The Charon's XO cuts off any attempt at a reply.

"Set up your scans. Do your duty. But you make sure to treat these people with respect. Acknowledge my order, Lieutenant Commander, or I will relieve you of your post this instant and have you escorted to the brig. Do I make myself understood?"

OOC: assuming an affirmative reply

"Very well," Fletcher replied. "Get off my bridge, Mister Talon. I don't want to see your face again until you have a complete report on all surviors in your hand."

Stardate 09.05.2374 – 1805 hours
USS Cerberus ASRV-83964:E-001

Lieutenant Commander Rrowl felt his anger burn, if possible, even hotter due to the asinine commentary from the junior human female officer. Of course her precious logic was sound - if one was fool enough to believe that Romulans played by the rules of other, sane civilizations! Did she not know that the Tal'shiar were capable of virtually anything? Could she not see through her idealistic fog enough to consider that dishonoring the Romulan Star Empire in order to further their own agenda was not only possible, but a modus operandi that the spy organization had used, even recently?

The massive kzinti considered a roaring retort, then, more fondly, considered literally beating some sense into the meek little woman. However, neither choice would change her mind, and the latter would most certainly land Rrowl in the brig. And, when it was all said and done, what did Rrowl care what some sniveling little ensign thought, anyway? Decision made, Rrowl ignored the woman as he would one of the subsentient females of his own species. As far as he was concerned, her opinion was worth about the same.

For his part, MacTavish responded to the flurry of conversation in typical Mac fashion. 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, Lieutenant 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?”

Rrowl, already agonizingly close the breaking point of his temper, found the Captain pushing him far beyond it. Jack MacTavish was smiling at him, knowing full well that Rrowl would read the bared teeth as a challenge. As if to leave no room for misinterpretation, the Scot outright questioned the knzinti's position, daring him to relieve the senior officer of command.

Rrowl's nostrils flared in intense frustration as every fiber of his muslces screamed for release. His tail thrashed widly behind him as the Captain made his points. Why should he not relieve MacTavish? The man had lost his ship, and had done so before the first shot had been fired. Such a commander would likely have taken his own life, were he kzinti; if not, the crew would certainly do it for him.

Then again, Rrowl pondered, if MacTavish did such a thing - or if he removed the human from command - Starfleet would lose an exceptionally qualified command officer, something which they could sorely afford. Rrowl knew MacTavish well enough to trust the man. He was also no fool - the Patriarch himself could not have prevented the desctruction of the Cerberus. There was no sense in pretending otherwise.

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.”

There was sense in MacTavish' words, so much more so than those of the well-intentioned, but terribly green, ensign. Slowly, the kzinti began to calm himself.

"Aye, captain. You are most likely correct that the Centurion is not behind this sabotage," Rrowl answered. " Forgive me, sir, if I am not ready to decide that the Romulans are still anything but prime suspects for this. If not her, it could easily be one of her underlings, sent to discredit her - and thus, the Roomulan Star Empire - and to rekindle hostilities between our governments."


Stardate: 2374.09.06
USS Charon – Mess Hall – 1330 hours

Transport aboard the Charon had gone uneventfully, as far as Rrowl was concerned. He had noticed none of the usual stares that he would typically receive from Starfleet personnel; curious, but unimportant. Quick medical and security scans had been performed, but since he had been the CTO of the Cerberus, and was in excellent health, it was a mere formality.

Rrowl found himself standing with MacTavish and Cameron (OOC: and any other ranking officers I may have missed). Soon, he would have the chance for an emotional reuniting with Captain Gavison, whom he had also served under.

Rrowl's ears flickered in silent mirth; Gavison had never particularly liked him, a feeling that had been mutual. As XO of the Discovery, Gavison had been a nitpicking, pompous, self-important, by-the-book stickler, and Rrowl had gotten the message early on that the kzinti did not fit the man's vision of Starfleet.

Of course, word was that he had drastically changed since those days; the death of his family had scarred him even worse than his face supposedly was. If one believed gossip and reports, Kelsey Gavison was now a spectre of death, existing only to deal misery to the Dominion. If that was indeed the case, Rrowl decided that the two of them might find each other's company much more agreeable this time around.

The doors opened, admitting the command brass of the Charon - Captain Gavison, another human that would be Commander Fletcher, and a brown-furred abomination that had to be the ship's Lyran CTO. Rrowl had prepared himself for the sight of one of his ancestral enemies; for some reason (perhaps the close proximity of the hated Romulans), the sight of the ugly beast prompted a shot of adrenaline, but no no other reaction that Rrowl couldn't control.

The poorly disciplined Lyran, on the other hand, began growling the instant that he spotted Rrowl, and allowed his hand to drift towards his phaser - a motion that was not lost on the kzinti. For his part, Rrowl carefully sniffed the air and raised his muzzle slightly, but otherwise, held his gaze impassively.

Rrowl mimicked the human gesture of a smile, careful to keep his teeth hidden behind his lips, knowing full well that his own mannerisms reflected not only on himself, but on his captain and on his ship. The monkeys seemed to value self control, and over the years, Rrowl had learned to appreciate the value therein. Naturally, he would gladly welcome the opportunity to gut this vermin here and now, but this was neither the time nor the place.

Instead, Rrowl gave a small yawn, and simply stood his ground, awaiting introductions from the two captains.

OOC: Rrowl will not back down should Talon insist on issuing a challenge, but he will refrain from threats of his own until such time.

Stardate: 2374.09.06
USS Charon - Bridge – 1233hrs
"Mister Talon," Fletcher answered, "I never suggested that the survivors would not go through security screening. I am aware of the captain's orders. That being said, these people are our comrades, our brethren in arms - these are NOT enemies, nor are they prisoners of war. For God's sake, man, they were assigned the same mission as us! Screen them, ask questions of those that you feel deserve it, keep an eye on those that may warrant it, but they will be treated with the respect that they deserve."

Then, it happened. Talon cited that security was his responsibility, and that he would do what he felt was necessary.

"Belay that nonsense!" he bellowed, coming to his feet from the captain's chair. "You will follow orders, Mister Talon - THAT is what you will do! Computer," Fletcher barked, "how many crew members are currently serving aboard the Charon?"

=/\\\\= The USS Charon currently has fifty-six active crew. =/\\\\= came the computer's feminine reply.

Fletcher leveled his gaze at Talon and spoke in an icy tone. "Short of setting up a force field in the cargo hold and keeping all of the Cerberus' crew prisoner within, how do you propose on keeping full security details on eighty-odd survivors? Will you assign each member of this crew a survivor or two to watch around the clock?"

The Charon's XO cuts off any attempt at a reply.

"Set up your scans. Do your duty. But you make sure to treat these people with respect. Acknowledge my order, Lieutenant Commander, or I will relieve you of your post this instant and have you escorted to the brig. Do I make myself understood?"
“Don’t worry Sir,” Talon said with a smile that show his fangs, something that unnerved those unfamiliar with his species, “they will be treated fairly as long as they don’t cause trouble.”

"Very well," Fletcher replied. "Get off my bridge, Mister Talon. I don't want to see your face again until you have a complete report on all surviors in your hand."
Talon left the bridge fully intent on doing what he plan to do anyway. He had already arranged for full security fields to be in place around the docking bays, medical, and anyplace else the ‘survivors’ were allowed on board. Until they were cleared, which wouldn’t take long, he would keep them isolated and release them as soon as the security and medical scans were complete.

Of course, the extra security was in place at the Sickbay where he had learned the Romulans and some other injured survivors had been transported.

Talon didn’t like the Fletcher, the monkey boy didn’t understand true discipline. Always trying to throw his pips around as if that is all that mattered. He respected Captain Gavison because Talon and he were much alike and had been through a lot together, but Fletcher was an officer that the Lyran considered not worthy of his position.


Stardate: 2374.09.06
USS Charon – Mess Hall – 1330 hours
Talon watched as the Kzinti looked at him, sniffed the air and looked back at him. The growl in his throat died as the beast simply yawned at him and didn’t respond back. This caused the Lyran to blink, and some of his ire faded. This Kzinti had very good control; here they stood, close enough to launch themselves at one another, something normally done when these two ancient enemies met, and the foul beast just stood there showing more self control than he did.

Talon’s hand moved away from his phaser and he relaxed and reached down and straightened his shirt. He returned the same placating smile that Rrowl had given him. He had to control himself, he couldn’t let this ‘thing’ show him up in front of his Captain. He looked away from Rrowl and towards Captains Gavison and MacTavish. If they had noticed his reaction to the Kzinti he would bow his head slightly in what might appear as a form of apology for his interruption of their conversation. He stood at ease as they continued, showing that he was not to be outdone in the form of manners and discipline.

Rhiannon does double time herself to where the officers of both ships were meeting. The door opened and she stepped in. As Gavison had noticed before she was not one mince or hem and haw, She moved directly to Lt Commander Talon.

She saluted smartly, resting the barrel on her rifle in her left had to do so.

"Sir, I am carrying a report for MACO Master Sergeant Brianna MacQueen, she wanted to alert security as to the actions a Cerberus crewman for insubordination and for trying to take off in an unloaded ASRV, thus stranding her MACO team on the Cerberus."
Lt. Cmdr Talon turned from where the other officers were discussing what had happened when the door open and he raised a brow when the MACO walked up to him, saluted and reported.

“Interesting,” he said at first, “Gunnery Sergerant.. where is this suspicious person now?” He wondered if this person might have anything to do with the sabotage of the Cerebeus, maybe not but it deserved checking out.

(Assuming she fills him in on Stan’s location and his name)

“Lt Myers?” Talon says hitting his commbadge, knowing that he had assigned Myers to head the detail watching sickbay.

“Yes Sir?” Myers responded.

“You have an injured crewman in Sickbay by the name of Stan Stowbriesky,” Talon says, “I want you to isolate this man as a potential threat. Secure him in a security field if you have to until he has been cleared. I want a full report from the Medical staff as soon as possible.”

“Aye Sir!” Myers acknowledges.

Talon signs off and turns his attention back to Rhiannon, “Good work Sergerant! Keep your team ready to assist if needed.”

The Lyran liked the MACOs, even the females were fighters and having worked with them before he had been witness to their combat expertise. It was something he admired and trusted.

While Lt Myers moved to follow his orders in Sickbay, Talon turned to report this development to the Captains.

Lt. Cmdr Talon turned from where the other officers were discussing what had happened when the door open and he raised a brow when the MACO walked up to him, saluted and reported.

“Interesting,” he said at first, “Gunnery Sergerant.. where is this suspicious person now?” He wondered if this person might have anything to do with the sabotage of the Cerebeus, maybe not but it deserved checking out.

"Crewman Stan Stowbriesky of Cerberus's engineering deptament, he is in Sickbay. I have already sent a MACO to watch him persosnally."

“Lt Myers?” Talon says hitting his commbadge, knowing that he had assigned Myers to head the detail watching sickbay.

“Yes Sir?” Myers responded.

“You have an injured crewman in Sickbay by the name of Stan Stowbriesky,” Talon says, “I want you to isolate this man as a potential threat. Secure him in a security field if you have to until he has been cleared. I want a full report from the Medical staff as soon as possible.”

“Aye Sir!” Myers acknowledges.

Talon signs off and turns his attention back to Rhiannon, “Good work Sergerant! Keep your team ready to assist if needed.”

"Sir, do you wish me to return to the Docking Bay, go to Sick Bay, or remain here?"

The Lyran liked the MACOs, even the females were fighters and having worked with them before he had been witness to their combat expertise. It was something he admired and trusted.

While Lt Myers moved to follow his orders in Sickbay, Talon turned to report this development to the Captains.

Lt. Cmdr Talon turned from where the other officers were discussing what had happened when the door open and he raised a brow when the MACO walked up to him, saluted and reported.

“Interesting,” he said at first, “Gunnery Sergerant.. where is this suspicious person now?” He wondered if this person might have anything to do with the sabotage of the Cerebeus, maybe not but it deserved checking out.

"Crewman Stan Stowbriesky of Cerberus's engineering deptament, he is in Sickbay. I have already sent a MACO to watch him personally."
Stan...Stan Stowbrieksy? Suspicious person? Kato immediately focused his attention not on the discussion, and instead on the side conversation between the Security officer and MACO. Just as he was about to pipe in, Talon was already in the process of communicating with another officer.

“Lt Myers?” Talon says hitting his commbadge, knowing that he had assigned Myers to head the detail watching sickbay.

“Yes Sir?” Myers responded.

“You have an injured crewman in Sickbay by the name of Stan Stowbriesky,” Talon says, “I want you to isolate this man as a potential threat. Secure him in a security field if you have to until he has been cleared. I want a full report from the Medical staff as soon as possible.”

“Aye Sir!” Myers acknowledges.
Talon signs off and turns his attention back to Rhiannon, “Good work Sergerant! Keep your team ready to assist if needed.”
Kato 3 immediately hit his commbadge, staring straight at Talon. "Belay that order, Lt. Myers. And please have the MACO watching Mr. Stowbriesky at the moment reassigned."

"Sir?..." Myers responds, hesitating. Then realizing that he's speaking to a superior officer, he responds sharply. "Yes, sir."

Kato 3 signs off and continues staring at Talon.

"Mr. Talon," he says confidently and with an adversarial tone, "I believe Mr. Fletcher told you to treat the survivors of that catastrophe with respect. They're probably tired and disoriented and asking them questions now will yeild nothing. Keeping security details on exhausted people - and Starfleet officers, I might add - is not productive."

Before Talon could respond, he continues after the slight pause. "Mr. Stowbriesky is not a suspicious person, nor is he any kind of threat. I can vouch for him personally. He may not always be a model officer, but I served with him on the USS Benjamin Franklin and he is loyal to the Federation and Starfleet and certainly not the kind of stuff that spies or saboteurs are made of, if I understand your implications correctly."

"Sir, do you wish me to return to the Docking Bay, go to Sick Bay, or remain here?"
The MACO addressed Talon now, looking for orders.

"Dismissed, Sergeant," he ordered. "Return to the Docking Bay."