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."

"Yes Sir." Rhiannon shot a look at Talon, she heard Brianna's report, heard her words and concern. This crewman might even be faking illness to keep from being thrown in the brig. If so, he was need of extra watching. Anyway, since when did a Chief Science Officer countemand the orders of the Chief Officer of Tactical and Security.

Ok, by the book, her twin knew her all too well in telling her "By the Book", Rhiannon had been one to push the envelope of orders, and rarely did it happen that she have been proved wrong. She had been ordered to return to the Docking Bay, well she would go to the Docking Bay and then go to Sickbay.

One might call it the Flight of a Valkerie as Rhiannon returned at a dead run, then touched her foot down on the floor of the Docking Bay spun about and continued her race to Sickbay passing Cpl. Allison as she did. Lt. Commander Talon did ask her to stand by, and so she would, in Sickbay.

Stardate: 2374.09.06
USS Charon – Mess Hall – 1330 hours
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."
Lt Cmdr Talon hissed and hit his own commbadge again, “LT MYERS! Carry out my orders immediately! Accept no other orders unless they come from someone of a higher rank than myself. Authenticate Alpha Zulu” Signing off he glared at Kato 3.

“Last I looked Lt Cmdr,” Talon hissed at him, “you are not my superior. The Chief Security Officer handles security and not the Science officer. Do not countermand my orders again when it concerns MY AREA!”

The last was almost yelled into the Science officers face. Talon was fuming at this point. The XO ordering him around was one thing, but he was not going to let someone who was not a superior officer cancel his orders.

“I don’t care it if is your Mother” Talon continued lowering his voice again, “if I deem them worthy of further security then it will be so.”

He seemed to have forgotten the other officers in the room, including the other Captains who were no doubt glaring at the two of them. He took a step back from Kato 3 before he decided to rip his throat out right there and now, and glanced at Captain Gavison.

Then without further interruption, he explains what the MACO reported and that he is having the crewman checked out despite what the Science officer says.

Stardate: 2374.09.06
USS Charon – Sick Bay – 1330 hours
Shaking his head at what he knows must be a yelling match going on up above, Talon was no doubt enraged, no one but the Captain ever countermanded the CSO’s orders.

Myers nodded to the two security personnel with him and entered the sick bay, as soon as he was inside he addressed one of the medical staff attending to injured and sick.

“Where is Crewman Stowbriesky?” He asked and the nurse pointed to the man bed.

(Assuming he is still there and being treated of course, if not then post stops here)

“Computer, place a Level 5 security containment field around Crewman Stowbriesky, authorization Alpha Zulu 589” he says loud enough for the computer to register his command. He used the code that Lt. Cmdr Talon instructed him to use, which only Talon or a higher ranking officer assigned to the Charon could override.

=/\\\\=Acknowledged=/\\\\=

(Stop here waiting to see the outcome, is Stan still there? Does it all work? What S*** hit’s the fan? Oh I love friendly confrontations )

Stardate: 2374.09.06
The Charon – The Cargo Hold – 13:20 hours

Oh well at least they were not in a brig. She reluctantly surrendered her PADD like both S’Talon and Rhiana, and went to her assigned spot in the cargo bay. She was glad that Rhiana had thought to scan the new hard drive she was given by security when she left Romulus. She does not say anything till after the Centurion return. When she mentions "Sorry I can not break the boredom with music, but perhaps Rhiana and Shiarrael can entertain us with recitations of Romulan erotic poetry." Shiarrael meets Rhiana look with a quick head shake of “NO” and lets her explain what they were doing. When she finishes Shiarrael will add.

“I too checked the new hard drive they gave me. Found a couple of odd files I did not remember and deleted the entire drive and reprogrammed it with just basic operational programs. Since then I added a few files about the Cerberus, the shoebox, the Stream Runner class, and Coffee, the making, brewing and effects. Those as well as the poetry are all they will find on the PADD I had. As well as a couple of other gadgets and upgrades, to enhance security.”

When she gets a questioning look from Rhiana. She will explain. "I got tired of not knowing if I was being monitored, so I had set up a couple of passive sensors to let me know if I was being watched by electronic means. If someone else were to use the device a small current will be directed to the casing to “nip” the user after 2 minutes of use and also no alterations will be accepted without my password. Then after 3 minutes an annoying program will start to run, a looped video of dancing blue Orion showgirls will startup and override all other programs until I enter the command to stop it. There is only 1 command that will work to stop the madness. Let’s just say I got tired of other people messing with my research notes. That is why I use the older model of PADD it is easier to modify and can hold a lot more memory then the newer models that are restricted by size.”

She will get a bit of a chuckle from S’Talon and one of the listening security guards.

She will then settle back and meditate since there was nothing else to do while surrounded by security guards in a cargo hold. At least there was more room and fresher air to breath.



(edit 2 Add time & date)

Stardate: 2374.09.06
USS Charon – Mess Hall – 1332 hours

Commander Fletcher was stunned by what he had just witnessed. Not so much that Talon had completely disregarded Kato 3's opinion, regardless of any personal knowledge the science officer might have had. Not even that the lyran had treated the CSO with contempt, and even unspoken threat.

Fletcher was stunned that the CTO had done so in the pursuit of directly disobeying the orders that the XO had given to him barely an hour before, and that he seemed completely oblivious to that fact, or simply cared nothing that his superior officer now had firsthand knowledge of the disobedience.

Jonathon was well aware that Talon held him in little regard; as with his derisive "sir" on the bridge earlier, the officer had made his feelings well known while tiptoeing the line of acceptibility. But this - this was too far.

Fletcher glanced over at Gavison, whose own expression was a dark mask that best reminded Jonathon of an angry serpent, tightly coiled and ready to strike. The two men had known each other long enough, had faced enough high stress situations side by side, that speech was not necessary for every communication. Gavison allowed a great deal of personal freedom as long as one did their duty, but insubordination stuck in the man's craw like little else. Jonathon left the question unasked, but the captain answered it with a slight inclination of his head.

So be it, Jonathon thought to himself as he tapped his commbadge. "Fletcher to security. Send a team to the officer's mess immediately." Upon receiving acknowledgement, the Charon's XO turned to face Talon.

"Mister Talon, you are a disgrace to the uniform. Bad enough that you stand here growling at another Starfleet vessel's second officer like some sort of base animal..."

"Actually, mester Rrowl's me actin' XO," Captain MacTavish interjected.

"...make that another Starfleet vessel's executive officer," Fletcher continued. "You disregard a direct order given to you not even an hour ago, and you treat your fellow officer with disrespect when he attempts to ensure that my order is carried out!"

The mess hall hatch opened to admit four gold-clad security officers who then held their positions, wearing expressions ranging from impassive to slightly confused.

Fletcher was not a confrontational man. He much preferred communication and compromise as a method for solving problems. Soemtimes, though, there was no alternative - and this was clearly one of those times.

"Lieutenant Commander Talon, on the grounds of insubordination and disobeying a direct order, I hereby relieve you of your post as chief tactical officer of the USS Charon. Surrender your weapon and commbadge at once."

OOC: assuming Talon doesn't do anything stupid here. If so, we'll need to edit.

Fletcher sighed. "We are at war, mister Talon. There is no room for such blatant disregard for the chain of command on this vessel. The secrity team will escort you to your quarters, where you will remain confined until otherwise ordered. If you slip so much as a whisker out of that cabin, mister Talon, you will be relocated to the brig for as long as is deemed necessary. Do you understand?"

OOC: assuming again that Talon complies. Fletcher does not want to order the lyran fired upon, nor does he wish to place him into actual imprisonment, but if the lyran insists, he will do both.

As Talon, flanked by the security detail, exited the mess, Fletcher tapped his commbadge again. "Commander Fletcher to Lieutenant Myers."

=/\\= Myers here. =/\\= came the puzzled reply.

"Lieutenant Commander Kato 3 was correct in his orders to you. I specifically ordered that all survivors go through security clearance, but that they be treated with respect as comrades, not prisoners. Mister Talon was in direct disobedience of my command when he ordered you to detain certain individuals otherwise, and he has been removed from his post becasue of it. You will immediately call off all security measures that treat survivors as prisoners. Acknowledge my order, lieutenant."

=/\\= Aye, sir. Order acknowledged. =/\\= came the even more puzzled reply.

The XO cut communication. "Fletcher out." With that, he turned to face the collected command staffs of the two vessels.

"My apologies, gentlemen. Now, where were we?"

No sooner had Rhiannon arrived at sickbay a second stand down was in effect, given that, Rhiannon took a deep breath did an about face and ran back to the Docking Bay. There she meet up with her team and told them that they were on stand by. She had already pushed the envelope in going to sickbay on her own. All she could do now was stand ready as Lt Com Talon had asked.

Brianna was still there and unprocessed. Rhiannon move up to her to apprise her of the situation

"I gave your message to the CSO, and he ordered security up on Stowbrieski, I was told to keep my team ready to assist if needed, but then the Chief Science Officer, belayed that order. He said that he knew the man and vouched for him and that Captain Gavison did not want security harrying Cerberus's personnel. The Science officer did not even query the CSO as to why he did what he did. As far as I know Lt Commander Talon did not inform him of your report."

Rhiannon shrugged, "Sorry, Bri, from the actions of the chief of Security, I thought it would be all taken care of. Best thing to do now is log a formal complaint ASAP and definitely get it off through the proper channels for both ships. Maybe the Cerberus people will act differently to the information.”

Stardate: 2374.09.06
USS Charon – Mess Hall – 1332 hours
So be it, Jonathon thought to himself as he tapped his commbadge. "Fletcher to security. Send a team to the officer's mess immediately." Upon receiving acknowledgement, the Charon's XO turned to face Talon.

"Mister Talon, you are a disgrace to the uniform. Bad enough that you stand here growling at another Starfleet vessel's second officer like some sort of base animal..."

"Actually, mester Rrowl's me actin' XO," Captain MacTavish interjected.

"...make that another Starfleet vessel's executive officer," Fletcher continued. "You disregard a direct order given to you not even an hour ago, and you treat your fellow officer with disrespect when he attempts to ensure that my order is carried out!"

The mess hall hatch opened to admit four gold-clad security officers who then held their positions, wearing expressions ranging from impassive to slightly confused.

Fletcher was not a confrontational man. He much preferred communication and compromise as a method for solving problems. Soemtimes, though, there was no alternative - and this was clearly one of those times.

"Lieutenant Commander Talon, on the grounds of insubordination and disobeying a direct order, I hereby relieve you of your post as chief tactical officer of the USS Charon. Surrender your weapon and commbadge at once."
Lt. Cmdr Talon turned to stare at the XO, the monkey man was out of his mind and Talon look like he was about to rebel against the XO, but then Talon caught a glance at Captain Gavison and seeing the dark anger on his face which seemed barely restrained and noticing that it was addressed at him, Talon’s anger changed to shock.

Did they not understand he was only doing what he thought was right for security? Yes he had restrained people for only a few moments, at least the Cerebeus crew, until they were cleared by security and medical scans; actually most of the crew had by now been released and sent to assigned quarters and spaces where they could recover from their ordeal.

Talon was a suspicious character and learning that the Cerebeus had been destroyed he naturally thought of sabotage, since there were Romulans onboard and even one of the hated Kzinti who he didn’t rule out even though the scans had cleared him, but he did consider the beast to have a low potential of being involved.

He still had guards around the Sickbay where the Romulans were being treated, and hearing of strange and cowardly behavior of a Cerebeus Crewman during the emergency he had sought to detain this individual for further questioning. It might amount to nothing, but being the ever suspicious one, he had taken action and not ruled out the crewman just yet. But now it seemed he had gotten out of control and even as these thoughts flashed through his brain he realized that he had overstepped his bounds. Taking a single step back from the XO so as to not appear threatening, he lowered his head slightly in a submissive gesture.

“Yes Sir!” Talon said quietly and reached down and slowly removed his modified phaser with his right hand and handed it to the XO, then removed his commbadge and handed that over as well.

Fletcher sighed. "We are at war, mister Talon. There is no room for such blatant disregard for the chain of command on this vessel. The secrity team will escort you to your quarters, where you will remain confined until otherwise ordered. If you slip so much as a whisker out of that cabin, mister Talon, you will be relocated to the brig for as long as is deemed necessary. Do you understand?"
“Understood Sir!” He said as his shoulders visibly sagged in resignation. He turned quietly and without another glance at anyone in the mess hall he walked out of the room under guard and returned to his quarters as ordered.

Stardate: 2374.09.06
USS Charon – Mess Hall – 13:32 hours
Starship captains were constantly burdened. What made the individual captain material was their ability to shoulder each and every one of those burdens in such a manner as to make it look easy, as to diminish the appearance of the number of visible burdens to their subordinates, and to stand tall under the strain of it all. At least, that’s what Kelsey Gavison had originally thought when he went through the officer courses in Starfleet Academy. Since then, facilitated by his various roles aboard starships, serving under varying styles of leadership, Kel had determined that his initial assessment was only a small portion of the overall picture. A Starfleet captain had to not only where his stress well, but had to accommodate the needs of his many charges, learn to interact on the level needed by his officers so as to facilitate their success, and become a mentor for his officers so that they’d not only learn to act as he needed them to, but so that they could excel.
As he watched the events unfold in the mess hall anger boiled up inside him. Only, this anger wasn’t necessarily all directed at Talon—though the Lyran was certainly the catalyst of at least a small portion of it—but rather, it was directed at himself. Oh, Kel was more than ready to put his nose to Talon’s and dress the Chief down for his obvious insubordination concerning Jonathan’s directives (and his own), but he blamed himself for the obvious departure from Starfleet regulation just as much as he blamed Talon for falling back on instinct instead of using his head.

There were few still aboard the Charon who had endured as many missions following Kelsey Gavison’s less than orthodox methods of carrying out orders: Fletcher, Talon, Jones, and Kennedy were the only officers who could make such a boast. Each had internalized Gavison’s methods in their own way, something Kel was more than aware of, though he’d never said as much to anyone, never documented it in any report, log, or journal, and had never before made excuses for the way he behaved to any of them. Now, in the confines of a memorial mess hall, his mixed signals were evident under the extreme duress of the situation.

Commander Fletcher’s eyes met his, and Kel knew he was seeking permission to handle the Lyran, to reinforce his rank, something that Captain Gavison knew only too well was sometimes necessary with Talon’s people. Hell! Had they been on a Lyran vessel, Talon’s insubordination would likely have led to an immediate dual resulting in either Fletcher’s, or Talon’s, death before being resolved. As Kel met his XO’s gaze, he knew there was nothing for it: Talon had to be reminded of his place within the hierarchy, and it had to be done quickly. There were two such creatures on board his ship at the moment that would view a delayed response as a sign of weakness. Decidedly, Kel presented Jonathan with a slight nod of his head, his face flushing further with anger at the necessity of the maneuver.

"Fletcher to security,” Jonathan tapped his badge. “Send a team to the officer's mess immediately."

Gavison kept his hands at his side, fists clenched, wondering if he’d remembered to turn his phaser settings to stun, or not just in case Talon really took offense. Kel didn’t know to what extent Jonathan would take the reprimand, but he knew, according to Starfleet Regulation, what was possible, and though he’d had to reprimand Talon many times before for his impulsive behavior, he’d never once had to do so for insubordination. This was new ground, and that meant that the Lyran officer could go any which way, but that which was expected.

"Mister Talon, you are a disgrace to the uniform. Bad enough that you stand here growling at another Starfleet vessel's second officer like some sort of base animal..." Fletcher’s tone was harsh.

“Actually, mester Rrowl's me actin' XO," Captain MacTavish interjected in a dry tone that told Gavison he wasn’t happy without the captain even having to look at his old friend.
"...make that another Starfleet vessel's executive officer," Fletcher ammended. "You disregard a direct order given to you not even an hour ago, and you treat your fellow officer with disrespect when he attempts to ensure that my order is carried out!

"Lieutenant Commander Talon, on the grounds of insubordination and disobeying a direct order, I hereby relieve you of your post as chief tactical officer of the USS Charon. Surrender your weapon and commbadge at once."

It wasn’t a struggle for Kelsey to remain the visage of disappointed rage, for he was surely feeling every bit of that very emotional cocktail as Talon stood there in shock, his golden eyes darting from Commander Fletcher to meet with Kel’s unwavering gaze. Kelsey had been in enough heated situation to have learned how to keep a clear head despite the emotional fire that burned within, and at that moment he resolved to pay a private visit to the Lyran to find out what was going through his head. The punishment Jonathan was doling out had to be enforced, but the duration was dependant on the validity of Talon’s vindication according to the judge in the matter, and that judge was Captain Gavison. Kel knew that there were things underfoot that he wasn’t aware of, details that needed to be painted out, but he trusted his XO’s judgment, and knew the spirit of the orders he’d given earlier, so while he would have liked the opportunity to question Talon’s reasoning, this was neither the time, nor the place.

Apparently realizing that his captain backed the XO’s move, Talon’s combative demeanor flattened as though the very wind was taken from his sails. With a submissive gesture, the Lyran security officer removed said items and offered them to the steadfast executive officer.

“Yes Sir!” and Talon took a step back, again, in what Kelsey interpreted to be a sign of stepping down.

Fletcher sighed. "We are at war, mister Talon. There is no room for such blatant disregard for the chain of command on this vessel. The security team will escort you to your quarters, where you will remain confined until otherwise ordered. If you slip so much as a whisker out of that cabin, mister Talon, you will be relocated to the brig for as long as is deemed necessary. Do you understand?"

“Understood Sir!”

Kelsey watched in silence as the creature who’d fought at his side through so many life and death situations recently was escorted from the room, leaving the mess hall in a moment of awkward silence the likes of which can only be found on the tail feathers of surprise confrontation between allies.

“I’ll want to know every damn detail concerning this matter, Jonathan,” Kel said in a low tone, his eyes darting momentarily to Kato III’s as he reflexively tried to glean some moment of clarity from the science officer. “A report on my desk by eighteen hundred hours should be sufficient.” What had been said between the MACO sergeant and Talon had been unheard by Captain Gavison as he’d been greeting Mac and his officers. But, again, there was a time and a place for this inquiry to take place, and this was neither.

“I apologize for the theatrics,” Kel said in a voice as tight as the scarred skin that covered the left side of his face. “Emotions have been running high, and there’s been little sleep over the past few days as we’ve been preparing the Charon for our mission, and then rushing to pick the lot of you up.”

Captain Gavison motioned for the table, upon which were fluted glasses and bottles of Teluvian Brandy, scotch, water, and rummilk. Kennedy had also arranged for a series of fruits to be available, though he hadn’t gone overboard, much to Kel’s appreciation.

“There’s a lot to discuss,” Kelsey said as he took a seat at the head of the table. “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 take on a very foreboding look.

“What happened, Mac? Was it the Romulans like so many of us already believe? Mr. Kato and Chief 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
USS Charon – Sickbay – 13:40 hours
They had been rescued. Finally. Once on the Charon the crew had been split up. Standing ready in the transporter room had been a medic, and several security guards.

“Anyone in need of medical assistance?” The medic had quipped up immediately.

“Ensign Lyvette ‘ere” MacTavish, nodded toward her pale figure.

“No sir, really… I’m fine. I just need some water. I want to stay with the crew.”

“Ensign…” Tavish’s tone was not one to mess with, and he eyed her slowly.

“Aye sir.” She nodded, lowered her head and followed the medic to sick bay. As she was leaving she heard Tavish ordering the rest of the pod to go with him.

Now she sat on a cushioned chair in sick bay. They had started pumping her full of fluids as soon as she got there, and also gave her something to calm her stomach and nerves. Frowning she had accepted the medical help, but she didn’t like it. She was a science officer, but she wasn’t a doctor. There was a reason she went down a natural science path in college instead of the medical path. Medicine was too sterile for her, it involved too many machines, and it seemed to her that the heart had been taken out of it. Certainly it had been taken out of Lt. Hash. She imagined he had a little gear box running in his chest instead of an organic heart, by the attitude he had shown her and the other patients thus far.

She thought of the little chest she had had in her quarters, a wooden box full of glass vials each labeled. The labels reading ‘Linseed Oil’, ‘Chamomile’, ‘Lemon Grass Seed’, and so on. Everyone contained an oil, a seed, a dried herb that she had carefully collected and preserved. Had she had them she wouldn’t have needed to go to the sickbay. A dab of bergamot on her forehead and a cup of peppermint tea would have accomplished what these strange medicines they pumped into her claimed they could do. Those little vials were gone though, instead she was left with this so called medicine, probably whipped up in some replicator, devoid of life. With a sigh she settled into her chair and sipped on the hot tea she had ordered.

They had brought in a Romulan, while she was there, and Lyvette had watched with interest as Dr. Hash took her from a state of comatose to walking out of the sick bay on her own two legs. Then they had brought in the engineer. Stan. The name on his badge had rung a bell, she had of course overhead the comments bounced back and forth between the pods, but at the moment (as she still lamented over the use of these horrible medicines in her body) she couldn’t place where she remembered it from. Then again, she thought to herself, the ship had not been large and she had probably just seen him in the cafeteria or on the Turbolift during her short stay on the Cerberus. The boy was quiet ill though, feverish, pale and not responding well.

They set him down next to her, and started doing tests on the boy, but it seemed that nothing was conclusive. There were others who were brought in injured as well, it seemed that had been in pods that did not get as far away from the ship before it blew and had been hit by debris. The medical staff moved on to them and Lyvette looked over at the boy next to her. He too was being pumped full of fluids and being monitored, but it didn’t seem to help.

Sliding closer to him she reached out a hand and took his clammy hand into her own.

“It will be alright Stowbeoski… you just need to calm down some…” she knew she probably butchered his name but he didn’t seem to notice much. In fact he wasn’t responding a whole lot at all, every minute he looked worse and worse.

“Just lay down… there… I really wish I had some lemon oil with me, that might help you some. But I don’t, we’ve just got these heartless machines running around making up potions for us, god only knows what is in them… but they seem to have helped out my stomach some. Good for you too, I’m not going to puke on you.” She offered him a slight smile. “Did you know a lot of the people on board? I bet that working in engineering you did. You get to go all over the ship… I didn’t know too many. Hey! Did you know Bruce? He was in engineering too, I don’t think he made it though. Bruce Wainwright, he operated the transporter. Good guy, from Chicago he told me, I think his grandmother lived on a farm out there. Isn’t Chicago a city though? Well how should I know, I’m from England. You a states boy yourself? I went to the states once, but only stayed in New York City, for a conference on chloroplasts. They’ve been working hard on those recently. Trying to find ways to reproduce them, and to channel the energy from them. Might be useful some day on these star ships. Hey, they keep working on it who knows they might find a way to power these boats with plants, and then you and I could work side by side down in engineering. Wouldn’t that be the day. But there are some scientists working on just that, and other things of course, chloroplasts have many interesting applications you know. Well I imagine you don’t… most people don’t. You know the first time I looked at one under the microscope I went running home to tell my mother and she just kind of raised and eyebrow at me and asked me why I was so interested in seeing chloroform… I just rolled my eyes, she never did understand plants the way I did, but she always let me play with them anyways. Oh… you know I’ve gone and done it again… I haven’t introduced myself. Ensign Lyvette, but you can call me Curie. Everyone back at the university called me Curie. I think that the two of us sitting around in sick bay don’t really need to worry about formalities…”

And she went on and on, talking to the poor boy, smoothing out his shaking hands with her soft fingers, applying cool cloths to his head to try and calm the fever and just being there with him so he wouldn’t be afraid and alone, and so that she wouldn’t have to think about what had happened as much.

Stardate: 2374.09.06
USS Charon – CSO/CTO Quarters – 1340 hours
Talon entered his quarters not even glancing at the security men who escorted him there. He didn’t want to see the look of confusion and perhaps disappointment at their supposed superior. He walked in and sat down on his bunk, a faint moan coming from him as he slumped down resting his head in his hands.

What have I done? The Lyran wondered and shook his head slightly. He let this crisis get to him somehow and now he has thrown away his career with Star Fleet.

Insubordination? On a Lyran vessel he would have been disintegrated already; well at least he was still alive.

Was that better?

Right now he preferred death to the fact that he had gone against the wishes of the Captain and had disgraced one of the few humans he actually respected and admired.

He sat for awhile trying to think of where he had started to go wrong. It was the whole sabotage angle; somehow he had already decided what had caused the problem and in his mind who was responsible.

It was the presence of the Romulans and even the Kzinti that had made his so suspicious about everyone. Anyone he didn’t know was a suspect.

He realized that Cmdr Fletcher had been right to relieve him; the XOs orders earlier about the treatment of the survivors was the correct course of action. First they should have ascertained the cause of the Cerebeus’s destruction and then begin the investigation. Besides, if there was a saboteur then he/she was either already dead on the Cerebeus or they were now on this ship and had no real place to go.

Security aboard the Charon was high; when he learned of the survivors he had ordered some guards to watch over the key areas of the ship where sabotage would most likely cause the most damage. He wondered if even those measures had been removed since they now distrusted his judgment. He doubted it though, since the Captain would no doubt believe those areas would need guarding nevertheless.

He raised his head up and stood up slowly from his bunk, went over to the replicator, “Lyran Whiskey, Double” he said softly and waited for a glass to appear with the amber colored liquor he had programmed into the system shortly after coming aboard. He took the glass and immediately downed half of it in a single gulp before turning and moving to his desk.

Dropping heavily into his chair he stared for a moment at the blank screen in front of him. He wanted so much to access the computer and check on security matters but he had been relieved of command which meant he was not suppose to do anything related to his job until give permission.

He doubted he would ever be given back his position now. Captain Gavison had been furious with him; he had failed the Captain and was not stuck here in his quarters, forgotten while the investigation of the incident continued without his assistance. He groaned again thinking about his failure and wondered when the Captain would formally level the charges that he had brought upon himself.

He didn’t blame the XO, or even Lt. Cmdr Kato 3 for their actions. They had been doing their jobs while he had been going off in a ‘karpac’ (witch) hunt trying to find the guilty person at any cost. He decided right then and there that no matter what the consequences of his actions would be, he would at least apologize to both Fletcher and Kato 3 for his actions and his foul treatment of them.

They were senior officers, and his superior or equal in rank, and they deserved the respect they had earned to get to where they were today. He had never really liked Fletcher, he wasn’t sure why, maybe he had always felt the man a bit soft, maybe it was his non-confrontational attitude which he saw as a weakness. Maybe the man wasn’t weak at all, he just treated other officers with more respect than Talon had ever shown anyone, even Captain Gavison.

He took another healthy dose of the whiskey and got up from the chair and returned to his bunk. Sitting the glass on the stand nearby, he stretched out on the bunk and let his own failures torment him; something he felt he deserved for his blatantly traitorous actions.

He thought that perhaps the Captain would be generous with him for his past service and only order his death by a quick firing squad, or at least let him fall upon his own blade to regain some of his honor.

Shuttle bay
Stardate: 2374.09.06
The Charon – 1400 hours

After a bit Shiarrael realizes that a drink of water would be nice but since that was on the other side of the force field she let that thought perish. Looking around to see what was going on, She saw the Federation people chatting and relaxing, relieved that they were no longer inside of their shoeboxes. The injured were escorted to sick bay. She did not feel like talking, The Charon’s security personal looked like they were picked for size and dourness. Knowing her temper Shiarrael will pay no mind to the hostel glares she gets from the guard that watches her every move.

Standing up and stretching only to be brought up short by a sudden pain in her side. Wincing, she will then test other muscle groups and find a lot of knots, kinks and cramps on her left side.
That was to be expected since she and Anderson were the two last ones to board the ASRV and hence did not have the benefits of an acceleration chair to cushion the launching of the same. Bruises and lots of them. Moving her left side as little as possible she will remove her boots and place them on the floor at the edge of the bunk, and remove her over shirt as well, and fold it in half placing it on the foot of the bunk. (At least they had bunks to sit on) The guard (or any one else looking) will notice that she has a beautifully rendered full colored tattoo of a stalking Ter'ak that takes up the whole upper right arm. On the left arm was a massive bruise that ran from her shoulder to just short of her left wrist. And it was turning a nice dark bluish green color at this point. Taking up a classic meditative pose in the middle of her bunk. Shiarrael will, will herself into a healing trance to not only speed up the healing process but also to past time while under arrest for a crime she did not commit. (also to keep herself from doing something that will only make matters worse, even if it meant she will feel better while doing so)

Stardate: 2374.09.06
USS Charon - Shuttlebay - 1410 hours
As Sienae entered the shuttle bay with her escort, she looked about and saw that the bay was a trapezoid with the wide end containing the shuttle bay doors, and a single door in the narrow end providing access to the ship's interior. Bunks will be set up lining the walls, up to two deep, there were tables and chairs set up in the middle of the room. She noted the Security personnel outside the doors. There are blue shirted crewmembers moving about taking care of the recovery effort and acting as psychiatric caregivers. Red shirt Ops personnel are also hovering around the survivors making sure they have what they need.

Next to the door she passed what seemed to be a processing desk run by a staff of three Ops personnel, for quicker processing. One medical ensign will be present to perform full bioscans, and two security crewmembers will be standing by on either side of the desk. The primary function of this station is to register all survivors, verify Starfleet records, and determine the health of the survivor.

Finally, off in a far corner she spotted S’Talon, Shiarrael and Rhiana. The Romulans will have set of bunks in one of the far corners of the room. The four from the Cerberus were not on duty and they had apparently been replace by four new guards, probably from the Charon, stationed about the Romulan's bunks. As Sienae approached the security field around the Romulan's section flicked off until she was inside.

She turned to her guards, “Thank you for the escort.”

She then looked to S’Talon who rose and saluted. “Let us, for now dispense with the formalities, we are all in the same position here and now.

She looked back out across the invisible barrier of the force field and slight lift of her shoulders then followed by the soft sigh could be heard.

She had expect no less, quite possibly their Cerberus security team was now being debriefed.

“We were told, “ said S’Talon by one Lt. Kennedy, “That a Starfleet vessel has been destroyed while Romulans were on board. He pointed out the he did not need to elaborate upon the past between our two governments. He also pointed out that there will no doubt be those among the surviving crew who will place the blame squarely on our shoulders. Captain Gavison was concerned with any further harm coming to our delegation, and so long as there's a chance that we may be harmed by any misplaced anger, he is insisting on us accepting his protective measures. If there is anything we need, feel free to contact the lieutenant."

“I doubt they have anything like the thermal mud pools at Ar’kani,” remarks Sienae

Having no a table and chairs, and not wanting to ask for them Sienae went to an unoccupied bunk and sat of the edge of it. What fragile state of relationships they had build on their few days of being together on the Cerberus were shattered into such infinitesimal pieces that nothing she knew of could put it back together.

Now the worse had happened, something she had dreaded, Lt. Nash had discovered the extent of her injuries. She had suffered those injuries when the Warbird she had been stationed on had been commandeered by the Tal Shiar in the thwarted attack on the Dominion. Had Centurion S’tokkr held his position and began immediate repairs the explosion would have never happened, as it was, Sienae took a team in to do the job S’tokkr should have done, they could not stop it but they minimized the explosion as best as any could. The Balak had barely survived and Sienae had barely survived it as well.

Sienae thoughts take her back to her leave taking of her Uncle by marriage.

“Now we may speak freely.” He stood and came over to clasp Sienae’s shoulders. “Is all well, niece by marriage.”

Sienae looked down into her favorite uncle’s eyes as he was shorter that she, and saw the look of concern there. “All is well, the team is ready and at the transporter with the cloaking devises” She knew he meant something more, but it was still a touchy subject for her.

“I know you were hoping for something better after the Balak Incident, but wiser minds thought that out of sight would be out of mind.”

“I understand, sir,” It was useless say anything of the situation, nor did she protest against such a worthless position as escorting pieces of equipment, even if it were 2 cloaking devices that would be installed onto Federation starships. Alliances, she twitched, Diplomats, need alliances, not the Romulan Star Navy.

“The Tal Diann has screened your contingent,” went on her uncle, “even to the science techs. No hints of Tal Shiar connections have been found. It is not as though our family has not dealt with them before, but the Centurion who committed suicide after he lost his Mnhei’sahe as a result of the Balak Incident was of a noble family and a Tal Shiar operative. It was not the family that demanded the Court Marshal of your cadre, but the Tal Shiar and they have a long memory and an even longer arm.”

Sienae went tight, her body becoming like a rock. “Centurion S'Tokkr in'Aihai Aieme was a traitor and a coward. He could barely hold his weapon when he shot himself.”

“You were exonerated by the court marshal, but that does not stop the Tal Shiar.”

Sienae let out a soft sigh forcing herself to relax, “But I am posted off to nowhere,”

“Niece, the Praetor himself authorized your posting to the Star Fleet’s USS Cerberus. Complete this duty and you will be promoted to erei'riov (Commander) and be able to command your own ship or be First Officer on a major warship. Think of that.”
She could have had her own command right out of the academy after her fourth year, had she taken a position in her Grandfather’s Senatorial Fleet, or in the House Fleet, but she had opted for going into the regular navy.

So here she was a wounded warrior. The Balak had been so badly damaged that when she was injured in trying to keep the ship from complete destruction, they could only do minimal medical procedures for her. When she got home she waved treatment to stand with her cadre who were court marshaled, citing the death of Centurion S'Tokkr in'Aihai Aieme. They were cleared of all charges and two people were instrumental in clearing them, one was Rhiana, who was called in for scientific evidence, by the prosecution and S’Talon, who had been the equivalent of a Romulan Marine stationed on the warbird as a martial arts trainer. S’Talon had witnessed the cowardice of the Centurion and was present when his fellow officers offered him an honorable way out as he had he lost his Mnhei’sahe (personal honor), rather that assassinating him and he almost bungled that, too. So the court martial was held. It ended with them all being acquitted and soon afterwards the Praetor himself awarded the cadre Metals of Valor much to the chagrin of the Centurion S’Tokkr’s family and the Tal Shiar. Basically, she was sent on this mission to get her away out of the reach of the Tal Shiar as were Rhiana and S’Talon.

Now Lt. Hash knew of her injuries, he would have to report them to Captain MacTavish. Sienae was deeply worried about how would he feel when he found out. Sienae had begun to develop a relationship with the dour, gruff captain of the Cerberus, even though the translator could do little to make sense of his strange accent.

As she worried, her brows drew down in the center making a V on her forehead. Unlike most Romulans, Sienae did not have extra ridge of bones on her forehead. She also had a more pointed ear and a well-developed midbrain. In many ways she was more like a Vulcan. However only a scan could detect that, which was another concern of hers. Had the doctor noticed that when he had done the whole body scan of her or had he been so focus on finding out the cause of the pain in her back that he did not notice other things. Sienae could only hope that he had been too busy to go looking about her entire holo scan.

Stardate: 2374.09.06
USS Charon - Shuttlebay - 1420 hours
Lt. Jake Myers nodded to the two security men stationed just door to the door of the shuttlebay; they was here as a matter of standard procedure than any perceived need. He then stepped into the shuttle bay which had become temporary quarters for the junior personnel from the Cerebeus. He paused to look around at the survivors and he couldn’t help be feel sorry for them. They had been through a lot, their ship destroyed, many of their comrades lost, and then to be crammed in here in temporary quarters.

They deserved better in his opinion but the Charon was a smaller ship than the Cerebeus and this was the best they could do. The few spare quarters they had went to the Cerebeus’s Senior Officers and then some of the Charon crew had to give up their rooms and double up with other crewman to make room.

He nodded to the Ops personnel stationed at a nearby desk as they were packing up their gear, apparently they had finished cataloging all of the survivors and screening them. He assumed they had found nothing since he had heard no reports.

Myers himself had been watching the sickbay along with other security personnel, but once the injured Romulans were transferred back to their secured area in the Shuttle bay the security guard at the sickbay had been terminated. Only Cerebeus personnel remained in sickbay and they had already been checked for weapons and cleared. He assumed the sickbay personnel would take care of the medical scans since they would be performed as part of routine treatment.

Thinking of the sickbay, Myers couldn’t help but wonder what all that business with Lt. Cmdr Talon and the other Senior officers was all about. He had heard that the CSO had been relieved of duty and charges of insubordination were pending. He only shook his head; Talon was a close friend of his and they often talked and fought and he knew how stubborn the Lyran could be. It was in their blood; this violent, combative nature, but disobeying a direct order from a superior officer? He never thought Talon would get out of line that far. He sighed and hoped things would get better soon; maybe it was all a misunderstanding that would be straightened out. They would have to wait and see.

Myers moved through the shuttle bay, he asked here and there if anyone needed anything and directed them on how to attend to their needs if they had any. He tried to assure them that they would get down to the bottom of this given time.

He arrived finally at the security area where four Charon Security personnel guarded the Romulan contingent encased in a security field. He didn’t try to speak with the Romulans, that had been forbidden at Talon’s orders and Lt. Kennedy was the acting liaison while they were aboard.

Myers nodded to the security who nodded simply back at their superior and straightened up even more in their uniforms. He looked over the area assigned to the Romulans and saw that they sat stiffly on their bunks or stood around awkwardly.

“Lt. Kennedy?” Myers said hitting his commbadge, “Lt Myers here in the shuttle bay… the Romulans don’t have a table or chairs, may I have permission to replicate a simple table and four chairs and have it placed in their secure area. I think they would be more comfortable than just laying on their bunks”

(Reply from Lt. Kennedy here. Assuming no objections)

“Very well, Sir” Myers said signing off.

Rather than take one of the tables and chairs from another area of the shuttle bay, Myers had the replicators manufacture one up and within ten minutes he had it beamed into the security area dropping only a small inaccessible area of the force field long enough for the transports. He did not converse with the Romulans, but they couldn’t help but notice the arrival of the simple metal table and four chairs and if they said anything to him he would only nod and then turn away towards the guards.

“Make sure they get fed,” he told them, “your relief should be here at 1500 hrs. Stay alert… and not just to the Romulans.” He knew the major reason they were stationed here was to make sure no retaliatory action would be attempted against the Romulans. If they were found responsible for the destruction of the Cerebeus, he knew the Captain would deal with them appropriately; until then they were to be treated fairly but guarded and protected.

Myers turned and left the shuttle bay and headed down to his chamber which he shared with another security officer and perhaps to rest for a bit. It had been an exhausting day and it wasn’t over with yet.

Lt. Rhiana of the Romulan Star Navy might have been bored by being isolated with the remaining four Romulan survivors of the destruction of the Cerberus, who had only the clothes they were standing in and a bunk a piece, but she wasn't She didn't need her PADD even to while away the time. Since they were securely shut behind a force shield, they were told it was for their own protection, Rhiana just went into herself and shifted through her memories and thoughts for some interesting idea that she could pursue in the meantime.

Rhiana's eidetic memory,in this case, was a good thing though something it proved to be a problem. She first thought over the improvement in efficiency she and ostensibly Shiarrael had made to the cloaking device. It came to her that with some more work they could perhaps push "it a bit further as well. But any real improvement she was quite sure had to be a complete reworking of the device.

In essence its design had be improved several times over. Rhiana put her considerable mind to work on just how it would be possible to redesign the whole device so that it could not be detected even by using tachyon particles. Now that would be a significant improvement.

Rhiana's mind took hold of that project and began to systematically breakdown and remake the cloaking device.

In this state she was relatively oblivious to the passage of time, the needs her body or mundane activities.

The arrival of tables and chairs while a nice addition was ignored.

It would be quite a coup if she was able to completely redesign the Cloaking Device so that the Star Fleets use of tachyon particles to find cloaked ships could be defeated. All of that while she was incarcerated on a Star Fleet ship as they housed and feed her.

The thought was delicious indeed and she laughed out loud when she contemplated it.

"Ha ha" Rhiana'a voice rang out and she looked up suddenly disturbed by her own laughter.

She looked around and saw the table of four chairs in there isolation area.

"When did they arrive?" she asks to whoever is there listening.

Stardate: 2374.09.06
USS Charon - Shuttlebay - 1420 hours

Sienae heard the nearby movement and looked up. She noted the man’s rank as he set the chairs and table down.

"Thank you Lieut." she said looking up to meet his eyes as he turn to see who spoke.

She stood carefully and moved over to the table and sat down in one of them. She returned to her thoughts, buntil she was startled from them by Lt.s Rhiana's sudden laughter and then her question.

"A considerate Lieutenant brought them," she replied as she looked to Rhiana. "Since no one told a good joke. it must be a humorous thought the inspired your laughter."

Stardate: 2374.09.06
USS Charon – Cargo Bay 2 – 12:30 hours
Lt. Kennedy was very well-known on board the Charon. As the Head of Ops, he was involved in just about every facet of the ship’s function. He coordinated with Engineering, TAC/Security, Medical, Command, Science…you name it, and he had something to do with the department at one time or another, and this made him extremely valuable to Captain Gavison. The scarred captain utilized Kennedy’s organizational skills regularly, his diplomacy, quick wit, and sharp mind were constantly put to the test, especially where Gavison felt that he either didn’t care to deal with the situation, or would be too grating to handle it himself. Abe never let that go to his head though. He knew full well that Kelsey Gavison was a very capable diplomat when he chose to be, and over the time that Abe had served under him, Captain Gavison had become something of an idle to the ops officer. He knew Kel’s record forward and backward, at least those points that were public access, and he’d give up his life for any initiative the captain ordered in a heartbeat. It wasn’t blind loyalty; no, Lt. Kennedy understood the vice that clutched his captain’s heart, as he’d lost his three brothers, his uncle, and his father to the Dominion-Cardassian alliance—their names were on the mess hall walls. Two of his brothers had been fighter pilots, his father had been an admiral, and his uncle a ship’s doctor. They’d all died in the same battle towards the beginning of this horrible war.

Abe had been one of the first assigned to Captain Gavison’s command. He’d been an ensign then, working ops under a Lt. Morris. Morris had been decent, the kind of fellow you could respect, but a little stuffy. As a matter-of-fact, Morris had fit the bill rather well since at that time, Gavison had been the clean cut officer straight from the Discovery, and Kelsey had pressed for regulation standards across the board. Morris had a plaque in the mess hall as well: killed in the attack on a squadron of Cardassian battlecruisers in one of those incidents where the Charon had limped home, venting the whole way. Kennedy had received his field commission then, and he’d been serving loyally ever since.

Now, he stood ready in cargo bay two having coordinated with Mr. Talon’s security detail to prepare for the arrival of the first group of survivors. His department was very slim, but it was something he completely understood, and had no complaint about. Each person handled the workload of two or three others without argument, and each was either a survivor from previous missions, or a volunteer—Gavison rarely took reassignments now without them being volunteers. Three of these were in the room with Abe at that moment, standing at attention behind the desks Lt. Kennedy had ordered replicated for processing, their red collared uniformed a nice contrast to the pair of gold-collared security personnel on either side of the desks. Everything was in order: the bunks lining the walls, the tables and chairs in the center of the room, replicators standing by to meet the survivor’s needs. Where Abe Kennedy had skimped on the refreshments that would be available at the command meeting, he’d gone a bit overboard in making sure his comrades-in-arms had all that they’d need in the sparse setting of the cargo bay.

/--\\ Transporter Room One to Lt. Kennedy. /--\\

Abe tapped his badge, “Lt. Kennedy here.”

/--\\ We’ve come within transporter range of the pods and can begin retrieval maneuvers on your order. /--\\

Glancing over at Ensign Seward, Abe raised his eyebrows. The hawkish man returned a small nod, and pursed his lips. “Begin retrieval, Transporter Room One.”

The first of the survivors were beamed over to appear twenty paces in front of Lt. Kennedy and the processing team. Captain MacTavish, Lt. Commander Rrowl, Lt. Amy Dixon, Chief Duncan Cameron, and Ensign Marie Lyvette materialized in a blue-white haze of reconstructing atoms.

“Welcome aboard the Charon, Captain MacTavish,” Lt. Kennedy stepped offered a salute just as a couple of medical crewman entered to begin the scans, the door swishing closed behind them. “My name is Lt. Kennedy, and Captain Gavison asked me to see that you were all seen to immediately.

“If you’ll approach the table, we’ll take care of some routine scans…”

(OOC: response, if any, otherwise I’ll assume everyone approaches the tables.)

“I trust there were no injuries aboard your pod, Sir?” Abe queried as one of the medical staff stood near MacTavish and activated a couple of different scans on his medical tridcorder. At the same time, the blue-skinned Benzite, Crewman Morga, took the data and cross-referenced it with Starfleet records verifying MacTavish’s identity. When Morga gave the slightest of nods, Abe motioned Mac to the side of the desk while Lyvette moved in for her turn.

(OOC: again, assuming something about Ensign Lyvette’s being sick…)

Abe glanced at the pale-looking science officer and gave a nod of affirmation. Turning to one of the medical staff who were standing by uninvolved with the scans, he motioned the man over. “Please see Ensign Lyvette to sickbay. Ensign, Doctor Hamilton will be more than happy to offer you whatever assistance you need. The sickbay is located on Deck Four.

“Now, Sir,” Kennedy returned his attention to Captain MacTavish as Rrowl and Duncan joined them, Rrowl having been processed by a pale, platinum blonde young woman of very petite build, and Cameron having been processed by Seward. “I’ve made arrangements for you in the Diplomatic Guest Quarters on Deck Two. Lt. Cmdr. Rrowl and Lt. Cmdr. Duncan have been assigned personal quarters as well, also found on Deck Two.

“Lt. Hash and Lt. Dixon have also been assigned personal quarters on Deck Two, but I’m afraid your other officers will have to double up. It is fortuitous that Captain Gavison insists on operating this vessel with a skeleton crew as it affords us enough room to accommodate the majority of your crew with general quarters on Decks Three and Four. About fifty of your personnel, and the Romulans, will be quartered here. Fortunately, it is but a two day trip back to DS9 at cruising speed, and my staff will do everything in our power to make sure that all of your crew are comfortable.”

Lt. Kennedy motioned towards the door and began walking alongside Mac as he continued to explain the accommodations. “We’ll establish a class three force field around that section of the shuttle bay for the Romulan delegation’s safety, and I’ve seen to it that those reported injured, or otherwise ill, have been transported directly to sick bay and Doctor Hamilton’s immediate care.”

Abe walked the Cerberus’ senior staff through the door and into the hall beyond. “Captain Gavison has informed me that he would like to meet with you, and your senior staff as soon as you are ready. He’s been sorely pressed for a report by Starfleet, and is eager to get to the bottom of this disaster, as I’m sure you are as well. I feel it appropriate to inform you that our science and engineering teams have begun collecting what information they can on the incident, and should be able to provide at least something determinate before shift change.”

(OOC: Abe will happily answer any questions that the group asks, and will escort them to Deck 2 as efficiently as possible to provide them with time for a sonic shower, etc. before the meeting with Kel).

Returning to shuttle bay two, Lt. Kennedy straightened his uniform and stepped inside. The room was already filling with Starfleet personnel. Ensign Seward and Crewmen Morga and Pontsmere were very busy processing a new batch while another stood by, waiting patiently, but wearily, for their turn. Glancing to the corner he’d delegated for the Romulan contingent, Abe took a deep breath and tapped his commbadge.

“Lt. Kennedy to Transporter Room One.”

/--\\ Transporter Room One here, Lieutenant. /--\\

“Proceed with the transportation of the Romulans according to plan.” Kennedy had already discussed the cloaking device with Lt. Cmdr. Jones, and they’d developed a plan for transporting the device directly to the Chief Engineer’s Office where it would be placed in a level four force field for protective custody. The Romulan Centurion had been reported as injured, so Abe had already arranged for her direct transport to sick bay. That meant that he’d be dealing with Lieutenant S’Talon I’Iuruth D’Mora, or Lieutenant Rhiana I’Ramnau Khellian. He didn’t really know for sure which of the two were in command in the centurion’s absence, but he was confident he’d find out soon enough.

When the Romulans appeared within the cluster of four cots, Lt. Kennedy was standing just outside of the force field with his feet shoulder-width apart and his hands folded neatly behind his back.

“Welcome aboard the Charon,” Kennedy’s face was non-threatening, but all business. “I apologize for the necessity of this force field, but Captain Gavison worried after your well-being, considering the circumstances. I obviously haven’t the need to elaborate upon the tenuous relations between the Federation and the Romulan Empire, but it is for the continuance of this relation that Captain Gavison asks your indulgence. With the destruction of the Cerberus while you were on board, he is concerned that some of the surviving crew may have jumped to conclusions concerning your involvement, and feels it most prudent to protect you from any imagined affronts.

“Your centurion has been transported directly to sick bay, and will be returned to you once her injuries have been treated. I assure you that our chief medical officer is extremely capable, and your centurion is in the best of care.

“The cloaking device is in the protective custody of our chief of engineering, and again, I assure you that it rests behind a protective force field as well, and will not be tampered with unless it is by your team’s hands, or under your team’s direction.

“Should you need anything, I will be your liaison. My name is Lieutenant Abe Kennedy.”

(OOC: response, if any…)

Stardate: 2374.09.06
USS Charon – Bridge – 14:25 hours
/--\\ Lt. Kennedy? Lt. Myers here in the shuttle bay…the Romulans don’t have a table or chairs, may I have permission to replicate a simple table and four chairs and have it placed in their secure area? I think they would be more comfortable than just laying on their bunks.” /--\\

Abe paused in reviewing the reports on energy drain the additional replication had caused from his seat back on the bridge. The Ops console was to the front-right of the captain’s seat, just to the fore of the Mission Operations Console, and with all of the recent activity of the rescue, reports were being registered every fifteen minutes, or so, since the meeting with the Cerberus’ officers had ended.

There’d been information shared in that meeting pertaining to the findings of the Cerberus’ crew in the aftermath of the ship’s destruction that had been confirmed by the Charon’s science and engineering teams: nanites had been responsible for the warp core’s overload, adjusting the flow and containment to cause the rupture while key safety systems had been sabotaged. Lt. Commander Cameron had been absolutely certain of his findings. Lt. Commanders Jones and Kato III had been instructed to work towards confirming Cameron’s assessment. The meeting had continued to progress as the officers discussed possibilities until Captain MacTavish made mention of the conversation between him and the Romulan centurion as the ASRVs were reporting in concerning the Tal Shiar. In the end, there hadn’t been any conclusive findings, and Captains MacTavish and Gavison had been forced to wait on Lt. Commanders Cameron and Kato III’s findings. Lt. Cmdr. Cameron had offered his assistance in the investigation, and Capt. Gavison had readily accepted it…after the man had a chance to rest. That being said, Lt. Cameron wouldn’t be joining his counterpart in engineering until first shift tomorrow.

With the inconclusive results of the meeting still fresh on his mind, Lt. Kennedy had to swallow back an impulsive answer to let them endure the cots. Despite his earlier diplomacy, with the revelation that the Tal Shiar may have had some involvement, and the deaths of two Romulans last seen in engineering aboard the Cerberus, Abe was less inclined to believe that the four survivors had nothing to do with the ship’s death than he’d been before.

“Lt. Myers,” Abe sighed, the nintey-two percent energy drain on the replicators being displayed on the black screen before him. “Be my guest, but I’m afraid that’s the last major replication we’ll be doing until we’ve had a chance to replenish the energy stores.”

/--\\ Very well, Sir. /--\\

Stardate: 2374.09.06
USS Charon – Captain’s Ready Room – 18:10 hours
The meeting had been less than Kel had hoped for, and more than he’d wanted. The whole of the picture was still unfinished, but portions of it were coming to fruition in full color, especially after he’d received the report on that whole mess between Fletcher and Talon from the XO.

One Crewman Stan Stowbriesky had apparently caught the attention of the MACOs when he had tried to close the door to an escape pod as the MACO team was en route. This Stowbriesky fellow had fallen seriously ill aboard the ASRV, apparently a by-product of stress, a bumpy ride, and the grief he’d felt at the loss of his crewmates—at least Hamilton’s initial medical report stated as much, though the doctor had amended the report with the statement that he’d be under further observation, just in case. Kato III had apparently served with this Stowbriesky before, and when put to the question shortly after Kel had received Fletcher’s report (the XO had delivered the report much earlier than requested), had admitted that though the man apparently had little concern for hygienic matters, he was competent and probably the least likely subject for any sort of investigation. In the end, Kelsey’s interest in the man had shifted entirely to Talon’s apparent determined interest in interrogating the poor engineer…enough so that it had led to his blatant insubordination.

Kel and Mac had come to the conclusion that there wasn’t much more they could do in their investigation without more conclusive information, and they’d set the proper teams on just such a venture before dissolving the meeting and allowing those late of the Cerberus to retire and get some much-needed rest. Kelsey had stopped Jack just before he’d made his way out the mess hall door and asked after Ensign Lyvette.

“She was mistakenly assigned to your boat, Jack,” Kel had said in a low tone. “Her transfer will be waiting for her once we reach DS9. At least I can report her safety.”

And that’s exactly what he’d done as he’d returned to the bridge to finish first shift. He’d composed the response to the missive he’d received in written word, having found his scarred face a little less than calming when dealing with sensitive matters. Even throughout the composition of the good news, he couldn’t help but replay the words Mac had relayed over and over in his head. The centurion had readily admitted the possible involvement of the Tal Shiar in the Cerberus’ destruction. That hideous face of the Romulan Empire definitely had the technology to construct nanite saboteurs, and it was fully plausible that the two Romulans who’d died could have been Tal Shiar agents. It was the most feasible conclusion to the disaster, and it made Kelsey Gavison want to storm down to the shuttle bay and put the survivors to the test.

This was why Lt. Kennedy was the liaison. Kel knew he’d just as soon break a Romulan’s neck right now as talk to them!

Coughing slightly, Captain Gavison brought himself back to the matter at hand: Talon. He’d fought alongside the Lyran for some time, and though the creature had a temper that put Rrowl’s to shame, he’d never stepped out of line so dramatically. The stress of the Cerberus’ loss, the sudden involvement of their pending mission, the state of readiness (or lack thereof) of the Charon, the side mission Kelsey had announced…they could all have been contributing factors to his stress level, and they could have clouded his vision.

It was a delicate matter now. If he were too light on Talon, he’d be dismissing the seriousness of the matter, and possibly adversely affecting Commander Fletcher. If he were too harsh on the Lyran he could potentially damage the relationship with a valuable asset. Kelsey knew full well that had they been Lyrans, Talon would be dead by now, and he was confident that this was the fate the security officer longed for—to be allowed the honorable death of falling on his own blade similarly to the ancient samurai of Earth. Kelsey had never really subscribed to that logic, and he wasn’t about to allow a capable officer to throw away his life in such a manner. However, that particular line of thought gave birth to a more interesting punishment…a punishment that caused a slow smile—an evil smile—to twist Gavison’s lips.

He was not a vindictive man, nor was he a cruel man, but Kelsey Gavison knew without a shadow of a doubt what the most impactful punishment for his security officer could possibly be, and he was a man of conviction. Insubordination was not to be tolerated aboard his vessel; no matter how valuable the offending individual.

Stardate: 2374.09.07
USS Charon – Talon’s Quarters, Deck Two – 06:00 hours
Captain Gavison stood outside the door to Lt. Commander Talon’s quarters, the pale illumination of the hall painting the slate gray door before him in a calming light. He’d activated the chirping request to enter, and had received the request for patience as—most likely—Talon dressed himself, and readied himself for a visitor. Gavison wore his phaser, but otherwise came alone, and the phaser wasn’t for Talon. He knew Talon would rather kill himself than put Gavison in harm. The phaser was set to stun nonetheless.

“Come,” Talon’s voice came through the overhead speakers as the door slid open, admitting the captain into the barely lit chambers of the Chief Tactical/Sec Officer. All of the furnishings had been specially replicated to meet Talon’s specific requirements, but the Lyran kept at least one chair in the state necessary for a human’s comfort, but Kel didn’t approach it. Instead, he stepped just inside the door as it closed behind him, standing cold and rigid before the Lyran insubordinate.

“Lieutenant Commander Talon,” Kel’s voice was crisp and low, and his lowered brow was accented by the lighting magnifying his dissatisfaction with the officer. “You’ve been charged with insubordination. Do you understand the severity of these charges?”

(OOC: assuming something akin to a, “Yes, Sir.”)

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

(OOC: answer…)

“I’d like to believe that I’ve given you every opportunity under my command, Mister Talon. I’d like to believe that I’ve honored your customs, educated you in mine, and given you nothing but the opportunity to do damage to the Dominion, and serve in an honorable manner. I’ve been open to your suggestions, respected your opinions, and given you leniency in how you handle your departments. It is apparent to me that I’ve been less than the appropriate mentor, as your actions yesterday not only disgraced you, but me as well.

“There’s only one consequence suitable such behavior, Mister Talon. You are hereby reduced to the rank of Lieutenant. Your behavior, and these consequences, will be recorded on your permanent record with Starfleet. Do you understand these consequences, Mister Talon?”

(OOC: answer…)

Turning, Kelsey paused as the door slid open, his hand on the frame as though it alone kept him from making his way into the hall. Twisting his torso slightly, he looked back over his shoulder, eyeing the Lyran from the corner of his eye, the scarring about it stretching taut.

“One last thing, Lieutenant Talon,” Kel’s voice was as cold as a moon on the dark side of a planet. “While the crew of the Cerberus are on board my vessel, you will report to Lt. Commander Rrowl. As of today, he’ll be taking over the duties of chief officer over TAC and security until we officially deliver the survivors to DS9.”

The full punishment in place, Captain Kelsey Gavison boldly turned his back on Talon and exited the room. He was going to make good on his word, and at the first opportunity, he would discuss his decision with Mac and Rrowl. He had a feeling Mac would be insistent on either being present on the bridge during first shift, or being present in engineering for the investigations taking place there. That was, of course, after breakfast, which the captains would share in the captain’s dining hall. Rrowl would be invited, of course.

Stardate: 2374.09.06
USS Charon – Captain’s Dining Hall – 06:30 hours
The mug clunked against the table’s surface just after Kelsey finished draining the coffee. Sitting back in his chair he raised his eyebrows to Jack.

“I’ve a request to make, Mac,” he said in his usual low volume. He found that when he spoke quietly, people were forced to pay closer attention—not that he was trying to force MacTavish to do so, he was acting out of habit. Not waiting for a reply, Kel continued. “Due to Mister Talon’s actions yesterday, I’ve busted him to the rank of lieutenant. It is an unfortunate circumstance, but my hands were tied. I’m sure you understand. We’ve a senior officer aboard now who is more than capable of running that department, and I’d like your permission for a temporary transfer. I’d like Rrowl to take over TAC and security, at least until we return to DS9.

“Rrowl, should Mac be OK with this, Lt. Talon would be reporting directly to you…as part of his punishment. You’ve learned how to react in our society, apparently better than my officer has, and I’d like for your instruction to be memorable. Should we leave for DS9 today, we’ll be arriving in a little under two days at warp five. That should be sufficient time for a lesson to take place, don’t you think?”