Stardate: 2365.02.07
USS Peregrine, Personal quarters(Karri) - 0725

Karri rolled over looking at the time piece beside her bed, grabbing the large iced water bottle on the night stand. wiping the condensation wet hand on the blankets she chugged half the bottle. With a sigh of exasperated frustration she flopped back on the bed her arms falling across her face.

Her subconsciousness was bothering her. She'd been dreaming of racing though the dense jungle of Cait. The coughing roars of Kzinti warriors echoing though the vined trees. tripping Karri falls to the leaf littered ground sending the leaves flying, looking down she sees the cloud dead eyes of Sa'eridon thar K'oar his mouth silently mouthing her name.
Rubbing her hands over her face.

Karri pushed the memories of holding K'oar the second son, an her betrothed in her arms. The blood from the laceration in his chest from Kzinti bladed talons weeping between her fingers. Tears pricked her eyes, as he joked trying to make light of the wound. the last words he'd said to her had been ghosted over by the ringing searing rage enveloping her.

Reaching her hand towards the ceiling the faint room light glowing down between her fingers, the dampness of unwanted emotions spread across her face.

with a loud cuss in Caitain raking her fingers through her hair karri got up an headed to the sonic shower. wracking her mind for what could dredge up such long forgotten memories. watching the stream rise from her fur she let the memories fade with each tendril of stream.

Dressed in her off duty clothing a light butter tan tunic an leggings to match, karri headed to the mess for food an a tea. Flexing her hand watching the mussels tighten an flex as she clenched an unclenched her hand, she mentally counted the deck floors as the turbo lift hummed along. maybe it was just the mundanity getting to her, maybe if the holodeck was free she'd go for a sim run after she ate.

the doors swished open making her start slightly as if dazed, she'd lost herself to thought again. Frowning she stepped from the lift an into the mess. Smirking she could never fail to give in to the ever inviting an chipper ambiance of the mess. Her stomach growled loudly as the mix of scents assaulted her nose, Karri headed to the replicators.

food, food was good. she'd let it distract her for the moment.

Stardate: 2365.02.07
USS Peregrine, Bridge - 0727
"The escape pod's transponder is registering it as belonging to the Mirela, a Hekaran science vessel," Lt Moriden advised, confirming Lt Zai's initial identification of the pod, "However, I am unable to locate the Mirela on our long range scanners. Both the detection grid and metaphasic sweep aren't showing anything of note."

--wheeze--

"I am attempting a magnetic tetryon configuration on the sensors to help cut through the tachyon disruption field," Moriden continued, pausing to recheck the readings from her console. "Hmmm,"

--wheeze—
Tochi arched a brow at the Benzite woman's pause; "What is it, Lieutenant?"

"I'm getting through the sub-space disruption," Moriden answered, her fingers sliding across the console as she spoke, "but the scans are coming back with wildly diverse readings of the presence of life forms on the pod, ranging anywhere between zero to several million."

Several million? Both of Lt Zai's brows raised at that and he shot the Captain a dubious glance before moving to stand behind Moriden, studying her display form over her shoulder. He watched as, just as she had said, the lifeform readings lingered at zero, suddenly spiked into the range of three million, and, almost instantaneously, plummeted back to nil. "What the frill?"

Mordien glanced back at the First Officer, offered a faint shrug, and returned her attentions to her console; "Unknown, Lt Zai," she wheezed, "I've been unable to get any sort of identification, at all. They present and disappear, almost before the computer can truly register them."

--wheeze—

Scowling, Tochi stepped back, glanced at the Captain, once more, then set his gaze on the viewscreen, studying the aimlessly drifting pod for a long moment. As he clasped his hands behind his back, his mouth twisted into a frustrated grimace and he turned, allowing his eyes to sweep the individual bridge stations, Where in the frill is Tesenblen?, he tapped his commbadge,

=/\=Lt Zai to Sciences,=/\= he snipped, =/\=We could really use someone on the bridge. As in five minutes ago!=/\=

((OOC: Still with us, Dox?))

=/\=Ensign Maize, here, Lt,=/\= came the reply, =/\=Lt Tesenblen is, uh, indisposed, at the moment. I'll see if I can get him to,=/\=

=/\=Him or you, Ensign,=/\= Zai interrupted, =/\=We want someone at SCI One in the next sixty seconds. Zai out.=/\=

"Rock," he turned to the TAC Chief, then, and thrust a finger towards the viewer, "Can you open comms with that thing?"

((OOC: Anything?))

Stardate 2365.02.07
USS Peregrine - Botanical Laboratory 0729
=/\=Lt Zai to Sciences,=/\= the Lt. snipped, =/\=We could really use someone on the bridge. As in five minutes ago!=/\=

Dalia tapped her comms, "Ensign Maize here. Lt Tesenblen is, uh, indisposed, at the moment. I'll see if I can get him to,

=/\=Him or you, Ensign,=/\= Zai interrupted, =/\=We want someone at SCI One in the next sixty seconds. Zai out.=/\=

Ensign Dalia Maize sighed to herself. While she and Lt. Horatio got along famously, she found that he could be completely absorbed in his botanical work at times and lose all track of the outside world.

She walked briskly down the hall on deck 4 to the botanical laboratory, which was really just one of the six multi-purpose facilities revamped to suit Lt. Horatio's desire for a specific lab for his studies.

"SIR! You've been paged to the bridg-..." Ensign Maize stopped short as she cleared the lab doors and saw Lieutenant Horatio Tesenblen prone on the floor.

Dalia carefully looked around carefully for any sign of what might have incapacitated him. Approaching, she dropped to her knees next to Horatio's motionless form.

"Lieutenant!" she rolled him over and checked for a pulse.

As she checked, Lt. Tesenblen came around. "Damn it..." he said, rubbing his head wincing. "That blasted low hanging cabinet got me again. Remind me to remove that some time soon."

"You knocked yourself out?..." she sighed. "Sir, the bridge has been paging you for some time, now. You're needed immediately!" She assisted the Lieutenant to his feet.

"What time is it.." his voice trailed off as he realized just how long he had been out. "By all that is holy!" he exclaimed, sprinting out the door tapping his comms.

"Tesenblen to bridge, I'm on my way!"

"Let me know if you need anything! I'll be in the main lab!" Dalia called out to his rapidly retreating form. What a clumsy idiot... I hope everything is ok...
-----------

Stardate 2365.02.07
USS Peregrine - Bridge 0740
Horatio arrived on the bridge slightly winded. "Reporting as requested, sir!"

Stardate 2365.02.07
USS Peregrine - Bridge 0735
Silas pursed his lip as he considered the situation. As far as interruptions went, this was about as unimportant as it got; an escape pod in the middle of nowhere, with no response to communications, and no sign of the parent craft anywhere within sensor range. Factor in the tachyon traces, and odds were extremely high that the pod had been ejected either by utter accident or equipment malfunction. Silas felt fairly confident that the final upshot of this diversion would be a stack of paperwork, and little more.

Still, though, there were the incredibly odd sensor readings. No life signs, then several million, then none again? It made zero sense. Drake found an unsettled feeling when he considered the situation, and decided that in this case, it would be wise to be thorough in their approach.

Drake would have loved to have known what the science department thought of this, but they had as of yet not deigned to make an appearance. Annoyed, the Captain reached for his commbadge, but the XO beat him to the punch.

"Lieutenant Zai to Sciences," the XO snipped, "We could really use someone on the bridge. As in five minutes ago!"

Ensign Maize followed up with a rather unsure reply, and Drake elected to let the XO handle it. Especially in light of his already shaky mood thanks to Starfleet Command, Silas recognized that he was perilously close to venting anger across the comm circuits, which would accomplish little.

Lieutenant Moriden fed a few more details - including a lack of ability to establish communications - and Silas' jaw set in further annoyance. Finally, the turboift doors whooshed open to admit Lieutenant Tesenblen. "We appreciate you joining us, Mister Tesenblen," Drake spoke testily, when he noticed the bloody gash on the science officer's head.

"Lieutenant," he asked, "are you all right?"

((OOC: assuming some affirmative answer))

Drake nodded. "Fair enough, but when you are done here, you need to go see Doctor Synklar, and spend a few minutes with a dermal regenerator. If you lost consciousness, she should evaluate you for a concussion, as well. Are you sure that you are well enough to continue?"

((OOC: again, assuming that he is))

"All right, then," he answered. "I want a full analysis of that escape pod."

Silas paused, considering the alternatives. He couldn't exactly leave the pod floating here, but the Peregrine had time sensitive orders; they couldn't tarry here for hours.

Drake stood. "All right, people," he spoke. "Let's learn what we can, but we don't have all day to twiddle our thumbs here - we have new orders from Admiralty, and we need to get going. As soon as the scans are complete, Lieutenant Moriden, lock on the tractor beam and bring the pod aboard."

The Captain then keyed his commbadge. "Drake to Engineering. Commander Thorson, we're about to bring an escape pod aboard. We are getting sensor readings that make no sense; I want an engineering team to Cargo Bay One to set up a containment field until we can be sure that it poses no threat, and we may need your assistance with the pod itself."

((OOC: assuming an acknowledgement))

"Drake out." he spoke as he cut the channel.

Next, the Captain took a step away from the Big Chair. "I want to play this as safe as possible," he spoke. "Rock, I want a security team on hand before we open that pod. Mister Tesenblen, I want a science representative there when we open it, and I want you to proceed with utmost caution. The containment field stays up until we are absolutely certain that the pod is safe, is that clear?"

((OOC: assuming acknowledgement again))

Drake nodded. "Ensign P'Tammah, once the pod is aboard, lay in a course for Starbase 118, then proceed at warp seven."

Finally, he keyed the commbadge once final time. "Now hear this. All senior department heads will report to the Captain's Mess at 0930 for mission briefing. That is all."

Silas gestured at his Executive Officer. "Lieutenant Zai, you have the bridge."

With that, he turned and walked back to the Ready Room.

Stardate 2365.02.07
USS Peregrine - Bridge 0740
Finally, the turboift doors whooshed open to admit Lieutenant Tesenblen.

Horatio arrived on the bridge slightly winded. "Reporting as requested, sir!"

"We appreciate you joining us, Mister Tesenblen," Drake spoke testily, when he noticed the bloody gash on the science officer's head.

"Lieutenant," he asked, "are you all right?"

"Yes sir, it's not as bad as it looks, just a bit of bad luck with a low cabinet in my lab." He gingerly touched the injury again.

Drake nodded. "Fair enough, but when you are done here, you need to go see Doctor Synklar, and spend a few minutes with a dermal regenerator. If you lost consciousness, she should evaluate you for a concussion, as well. Are you sure that you are well enough to continue?"

"Yes sir," Horatio reached up and made a knocking motion against the uninjured side of his head. "Won't be the last time this old noggin' takes a hit."

"All right, then," he answered. "I want a full analysis of that escape pod."

"Right away, Captain." Lt. Tesenblen whirled on his feet and went to Sci One's post. Tapping his comm, he called Dalia. "Ensign Maize, transfer all relevant Hekaran data to Sci I, I'm running a diagnostic on the escape pod, comparing it to what we have in the computer. There seems to be some wildly conflicting readings on the life forms."

=/\= Done, Lieutenant. =/\= Maize responded quickly.

She always was quick at her work. He smiled inwardly.

After studying the information on his display for several minutes, Horatio turned to Lt. Zai, "Lieutenant, I'm at a loss. My readings are just as scattered as Lt. Moriden's scans are. I believe I can safely say, though, that the escape pod is not made of nor does it contain any foreign or dangerous material to the crew. There seems to be nothing auspiciously unusual about the craft, but until I get proper information to go on, it'll be hard to say for sure on any of these points."

"In my opinion, it could be nothing more than a misfired pod, no? Or it could be something from inside the pod causing the fluctuations. I need more time to focus the scans." Lt. Tesenblen said. He continued studying the monitors, looking for answers.

"Ensign Maize, join me on the bridge at Sci II. We're going to link the stations."

=/\= Yes sir, on my way. =/\= she replied.

Stardate 2365.02.07
USS Peregrine; Bridge - 0740
Finally, the turboift doors whooshed open to admit the Peregrine's Chief Science Officer. "Reporting as requested, sir," Tesenblen stated as he stepped off the lift.

"We appreciate you joining us, Mister Tesenblen," Drake spoke testily,

Tochi glanced in the CSO's direction, then, offering the man a nod that, at the same time, conveyed acknowledgment of his presence and concern at his appearance. Indisposed? We'd guess more along the lines of unconscious given that gash on his head. As Captain Drake gave voice to those concerns and Lt Tesenblen affirmed that he was, in fact, capable of performing his duties, Tochi returned his attentions to the ongoing activities regarding the Hekaran lifeboat.

Moments later, Horatio was manning his station and Drake rose from the Big Chair. "All right, people," he spoke. "Let's learn what we can, but we don't have all day to twiddle our thumbs here - we have new orders from Admiralty, and we need to get going. As soon as the scans are complete, Lieutenant Moriden, lock on the tractor beam and bring the pod aboard,"

((OOC: The reminder of Drake's orders from his last post go here,))

Drake, then, issued his order for the senior staff to report for a mission briefing at 0930 and, before turning to disappear into his ready room, once more, said; "Lieutenant Zai, you have the bridge."

"Aye, sir," Tochi acknowledged, watching as the Captain clipped away.

Drake seemed a bit put off; everything from his posture to his facial expressions seemed to exude irritation, annoyance, and, quite possibly, anger. Granted, the entire crew of the Peregrine had, for the last several weeks, teetered on the verge of boredom induced irritation, but the Captain's display seemed to be derivative of, something else,

"Lieutenant, I'm at a loss," Tesenblen's voice broke the Trill XO from his contemplation of the Captain's mood, "My readings are just as scattered as Lt. Moriden's scans are. I believe I can safely say, though, that the escape pod is not made of nor does it contain any foreign or dangerous material to the crew. There seems to be nothing auspiciously unusual about the craft, but until I get proper information to go on, it'll be hard to say for sure on any of these points."

Zai nodded and settled himself into the command seat.

"In my opinion, it could be nothing more than a misfired pod, no? Or it could be something from inside the pod causing the fluctuations," the CSO said, "I need more time to focus the scans."

"Understood," Tochi replied, "but it doesn't sound like more time is a commodity we have, at the moment. You say your scans, thus far, indicate no immediate danger to the ship or crew, correct?"

((OOC: Assuming a positive reaffirmation,))

"Very well; feel free to continue your scans of the pod, Lieutenant," Zai said, coming forward a bit in the chair and locking his gaze to the viewscreen, "but, we're going to go ahead and reel it in.

Mister P'Tammah; we are in tractoring range?"

"Yes, sir," the Andorian woman confirmed.

Lt Zai nodded, again; "Lt Moriden; lock on to the pod and bring it aboard. Cargo Bay One, please."

-wheeze-

"Aye, sir," the Ops officer responded, the console chirping at her touch. "Modulating to compensate for subspace interference. Target locked. Tractor beam engaged."

-wheeze-

Tochi eyed the viewscreen in silence as the Hekaran pod was drawn closer and closer to the Peregrine. When it disappeared from view, his eyes flicked to Moriden.

"The pod is aboard, sir," the Benzite wheezed, "Cargo Bay One."

"Well done," Zai nodded. "Vaela?"

"Course laid in for Starbase 118, sir," Ensign P'Tammah, stated, "Warp Seven."

"Punch it," Tochi said, settling back in the chair, again. He eyed the viewscreen, watching as the starfield changed in response to Peregrine's change of course, then, as the warp engines engaged, turned to streaks of white, blue, yellow and red.

"Consider it punched," P'Tammah smiled.

"Good work, people," Lt Zai intoned, sliding from the command chair. Now that the mysterious pod was secure and Peregrine was under way, the Trill decided that it might be a good time to see about Captain Drake's mood, lest it adversely affect the upcoming briefing.

"Lt Tesenblen," he said, moving toward the rear of the bridge, "keep me apprised if your readings change."

((OOC: Again, assuming a positive response.))

"Lt Rockatansky," Tochi continued, "I'm going to see the Old Man for a moment. The bridge is yours."

By the time Lt Zai had reached the ready room door, Rock had acknowledged the transfer, and Tochi had keyed the chime, requesting entry to Drake's refuge.

((OOC: Assuming an irritated/frustrated "Enter" of some sort))

Hands characteristically clasped behind his back, Tochi stepped into the Ready Room and allowed his gaze to sweep over the various models displayed there before regarding the Captain who, quite possibly, looked even angrier than he had on the bridge. "Are you alright, Captain," he asked, already knowing the answer,

Stardate 2365.02.07
USS Peregrine, Captain's Ready Room - 0755
So much for that off day, Silas mentally grumbled as he called up the technical specs for the USS Coronado. If Silas remembered correctly, this was Sarah Morland's ship... and Sarah was an excellent officer.

According to the readout, the Coronado, NCC-31917, was an aging Miranda class cruiser. Originally, she was an explorer, but had been refit and reassigned to a diplomatic role. The Captain frowned as he studied the readout; it was little wonder that Starfleet Command wanted an escort for her, as the refits had made her even less of a tactical threat than her weathered frame would have suggested.

Musing, he was in he process of calling up known intelligence about the Kuldar and Rytain ships and their capabilities when the door chime rang. "Come in," he spoke in reply.

The door opened to admit Lieutenant Zai who entered and assumed a spot near the desk, his hands clasped behind his back. After a momentary pause during which the XO looked around the office, he spoke plainly. "Are you all right, Captain?" he asked.

Commander Drake clenched his PADD tightly for a moment before slowly exhaling and relaxing his grip. A wry smile touched his lips as he answered with a question of his own. "Doing that poor of a job of hiding it, am I?"

((OOC: assuming a nonthreatening affirmation, here))

Drake gestured at the chair across from his desk. "Please, have a seat."

((OOC: assuming Zai does so))

Silas shook his head. "Tochi," he continued, "You better than most probably already realize this, but your past is never truly behind you. Everything you do, everything you say... it always remains a part of you. You can grow and learn as a person, but some will never let that old you go."

The Captain paused for a moment and leaned back in his chair. "I spoke to Starfleet Command this morning, as you surely already know. An Admiral Harding, to be exact... to my knowledge, I've never had any contact with her in the past. And yet, she seemed to know ME... or seemed to believe that she did."

Silas let his gaze float around the room, resting on the various ship models, before fixing again on the Trill XO. "I honestly don't know that I should tell you this; it's likely the sort of thing one should keep to themselves, or within the confidence of a Counselor."

Drake paused for a long moment before continuing. "During the briefing, it was made clear to me that some within Starfleet Command are less than confident in my judgment. I have long known - and accepted - that some view me as a bit of a loose cannon, but this is the first time that I have had an admiral communicate to me that there is doubt as to how fit I am for this duty."

The Captain's eyes flashed with anger, and it touched his voice. "Damn it, if that's the way that they feel, then why was I given a command in the first place? Was it in the hope that, given enough rope, I would hang myself? Why not leave me in an XO's chair, or transfer me permanently to Tactical?"

Again, Drake forced himself to slowly exhale. "At any rate," he continued, "there's the source of the current bee in my bonnet. Clearly, the only real answer for me - seeing as how I'm likely not yet well-adjusted enough to utterly ignore this sort of noise - will be to take petty pleasure in proving these sorts of people wrong."

A smirk played at the right corner of the Captain's mouth. "Either that, or you'll likely have a front row seat at my eventual court martial, no?"

Stardate 2365.02.07
USS Peregrine; Captain's Ready Room - 0755
"Come in."

Tochi stepped into the Ready Room and allowed his gaze to sweep over the various models displayed there before regarding the Captain who, quite possibly, looked even angrier than he had on the bridge. "Are you alright, Captain?"

A mirthless grin played at Drake's lips; "Doing that poor of a job hiding it, am I?"

Zai responded with a conciliating grin of his own and a marginal shrug. "If anyone but us noticed, sir," he said, "they said nothing of it. I think most of them were so excited about, at last, having something different to do that they paid attention to little else."

"Please," Drake gestured to the chair across from his desk, "have a seat."

"Thank you," Zai nodded settling comfortably into the proffered seat. His gaze flitted, momentarily, to the model of an ancient, Terran sea-fairing vessel christened The Golden Hind, then returned to Drake just as the man shook his head.

"Tochi," Drake said, "You better than most probably already realize this, but your past is never truly behind you. Everything you do, everything you say... it always remains a part of you. You can grow and learn as a person, but some will never let that old you go."

Tochi smiled and nodded at Silas' allusion... Although the Trill had been known to the Federation for quite some time, it still wasn't common knowledge that some small percentage of them existed as a joined species. Some were aware, of course (as was Silas), but, by and large, most were not; thus, neither was it widely known that a joined Trill typically had experienced more than one "past." As the most recent host of the Zai symbiont, Tochi had singular access to a total of five, including his own, and Silas had, early on in their relationship, been made aware of each of them, at least in passing, but he said nothing. Instead, he waited out Drake's momentary pause, allowing the man time to relax, even if just a little into his own seat.

"I spoke to Starfleet Command this morning, as you surely already know," Silas said, finally, "An Admiral Harding, to be exact... to my knowledge, I've never had any contact with her in the past. And yet, she seemed to know ME... or seemed to believe that she did."

As people are wont to do, Tochi mused without giving voice to the thought, just yet, without realizing that their so-called knowledge is little more than a single, often skewed, interpretation. The Trill simply nodded his empathy for and understanding of the Captain's statement. Right now, it was best to simply let the man speak, uninterrupted, in order for him to find the path he truly wanted to travel. Tochi followed Silas' gaze as it floated around the room, then, pausing on various models before, once more returning to meet Zai's.

"I honestly don't know that I should tell you this;" the Captain said, "it's likely the sort of thing one should keep to themselves, or within the confidence of a Counselor."

"We haven't known one another long, Silas," Tochi smiled reassuringly, "but I think you're familiar enough with us to know that I can guarantee you that same confidence. I'm your Executive Officer, after all, it's part of my job."

Drake paused a long moment, seeming to consider the Trill's words along with everything else that was going on in his head, before deciding to continue; "During the briefing, it was made clear to me that some within Starfleet Command are less than confident in my judgment. I have long known - and accepted - that some view me as a bit of a loose cannon, but this is the first time that I have had an admiral communicate to me that there is doubt as to how fit I am for this duty."

The Captain's eyes flashed with anger, and it touched his voice. "Damn it, if that's the way that they feel, then why was I given a command in the first place? Was it in the hope that, given enough rope, I would hang myself? Why not leave me in an XO's chair, or transfer me permanently to Tactical?"

Again, Drake forced himself to slowly exhale. "At any rate," he continued, "there's the source of the current bee in my bonnet. Clearly, the only real answer for me - seeing as how I'm likely not yet well-adjusted enough to utterly ignore this sort of noise - will be to take petty pleasure in proving these sorts of people wrong."

A smirk played at the right corner of the Captain's mouth. "Either that, or you'll likely have a front row seat at my eventual court martial, no?"

Tochi grinned; "If it comes to that; I suppose so."

The Trill helmsman leaned forward, then, resting his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together as he regarded the Captain. "In our experience, Silas," he began, "we have come to understand that what others think they know about us is probably as far from true knowledge as this ship is from the Delta Quadrant. Most of what they think they know is based on little more than their own interpretation of tiny parts of another's larger, over-all existence. Those interpretations, too, are often based on the elucidations of others who related them, second or third hand, from some initial interpretation which was likely born of the same flawed logic.

I've known you long enough to form my own opinions, for example - I ‘know' you to be an honorable and honest man; I ‘know' that you are a capable and reliable starship Captain and an excellent Starfleet Officer;" Tochi had been ticking these observations off on his fingers as he went but, as he very carefully broached the next point, he folded his hands together, again, and leaned back into his chair, "And I also ‘know' why you refused regenerative treatment for those scars you bear. Yet, despite all of these things that I ‘know,' I can't honestly say that I truly know Silas James Drake, and no one else can, either."

The Trill arched a brow, then, and offered a knowing smile. "The only beings in the whole of the universe that truly know us, Captain, are ourselves. Every last bright spot and every dark corner of who you really are is archived, in it's original and unedited form, inside of you and nowhere else. Not in here," Tochi pressed a finger to his head, "not out there," that same finger swept toward the door indicating the crew on the other side of it, "and certainly not in the mind of some frilling, stick-in-her-sphincter, Admiral who's never even met you in person and bases what she ‘knows' on redacted documentation and hearsay,"

He spread his hands, then, offered a smile, and shrugged; ",So, yes, take your petty pleasure in proving them wrong, and then, take expansive pleasure when they've been forced to admit it."

((OOC: Room for interjections and such, throughout, of course.))

Stardate 2365.02.07
USS Peregrine, Bridge - 0745
"Understood," Tochi replied, "but it doesn't sound like more time is a commodity we have, at the moment. You say your scans, thus far, indicate no immediate danger to the ship or crew, correct?"

"That's as far as I can tell with what limited information is available, yes sir." Horatio replied.

"Very well; feel free to continue your scans of the pod, Lieutenant," Zai said, coming forward a bit in the chair and locking his gaze to the viewscreen, "but, we're going to go ahead and reel it in.

Lt. Tesenblen has a nagging feeling that something was innately wrong with the escape pod.

These readings shouldn't be happening. This isn't natural... he mused to himself.

Ensign Maize appeared on the bridge minutes later. "Reporting as requested, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, get on Sci II, let's try to make heads or tails of this pod. Something's off." he ordered.

Dalia quickly went to her assigned post and began pulling up information on the computer.

"Let's try something different. I want to penetrate the ship with a focal scan on various sections. Something tells me there's something in there that's causing this." Horatio continued.

"Yes sir. Starting localized scan on the cockpit of the pod." she responded.

"I'm going to scan for anything the ship might be carrying." the Lt. declared.

--- (OOC: Room for any other information, responses, or directives)

Stardate 2365.02.07
USS Peregrine, Bridge 0805
After several minutes, Ensign Maize made a noise of surprise. "Sir, I've done it. Focal scans on the cockpit indicate one lifeless humanoid corpse aboard, but the body isn't giving off any readings that I can tell." She looked over at the chief science officer.

Horatio's lips were pursed in visible agitation.

"Sir...?"

Lt. Tesenblen turned to Lt. Rockatansky. "Sir, we may have a problem."

(OOC: Assuming curious acknowledgement)

"From what I can tell, there seems to be two containment units aboard the escape pod. Which normally wouldn't be a problem, but I believe the flucturations in our lifeform readings are coming from one of the units. They appear to be specimen containment units and one of them..." he glanced at his monitor again, "is failing rapidly. Based on my readings, there are indicators of bio-mimetic gel coming from the failing container, as well."

(OOC: Assuming acknowledgement again)

"One more thing, sir. I'm not entirely sure whatever is being held in the unit is entirely organic." Horatio said uncertainly.

Stardate 2365.02.07
USS Peregrine, Captain's Ready Room - 0800
Lieutenant Zai's initial response to Drake's rant caught the Captain a bit off guard.

Tochi grinned; "If it comes to that; I suppose so."

The unexpectedly blithe answer caused Silas to double take, with his original frown at the insolence melting away to a bit of a genuine grin. The small nugget of levity had been perfectly placed.

The Trill helmsman leaned forward, then, resting his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together as he regarded the Captain and began giving a measured response. Silas found himself listening carefully to what he (they?) had to say.

By the time that his XO was done speaking, Silas already found himself measurably more calm... and feeling a shade foolish.

"Tochi," Drake replied with a hint of a grin, "if you ever decide that this whole 'flying starships' gig isn't for you anymore, you should consider a career in counseling. Apparently, a couple of hundred years of shared experiences help to bestow a shocking amount of wisdom and insight."

Calmer now, the Captain focused for a moment on the back of his left hand, to the scars that the XO had referred to. Those scars extended all the way up his arm, across his chest, and were barely visible above his collar. Lieutenant Zai knew why Drake refused to have the scars removed, though few others did. As he stared at the hand, his expression darkened a bit.

"The fact of the matter, though," he continued, "is that it's more than a question of someone doubting me. After all, what sort of officer would I be if a few words were enough to rattle me? I won't deny that the conversation left me angry, but there is more to it..."

The captain trailed off, pausing for several long moments as he stared at the hand. "What if they are right?" he asked before meeting Zai's gaze again.

"My very first real command led to the death of several people, Tochi. Including Michelle's." He held up a hand to forestall any interruption. "I know what you are going to say. The matter was investigated, it was concluded that I did everything possible, that I chose the correct course of action. I know what they say; they gave me a frilling medal for it."

Drake shook his head. "You know what haunts me about that day? If I was put in the same situation, knowing what I know now... I would still make the same choice. In my mind, I know that it was the only course of action. That doesn't help me sleep at night, though. It doesn't make the ache go away." It doesn't erase the sound of her screams, he left unsaid.

The Captain stared off into space. "Tochi," he spoke, "at some point, my actions will almost certainly lead to the deaths of more people. Operating on the sorts of missions that we draw, it's likely only a matter of time. I've come to peace with that fact, as much as I can. But again... what if they are right?"

He made eye contact with the Trill once more. "I believe that I make the best choices that I can. But what if I'm not fit to make those choices to begin with? Who's to say that someone more qualified than me might not have made things different aboard the Alexander? Would more lives have been saved?"

Silas chuckled ruefully. "That's the rub, isn't it? No matter how hard you train, no matter how much you study... so much of what we do comes down to gut calls. One must possess conviction in their decisions, else you open yourself to second guessing and ineffective command. But that same conviction can blind you to other options if you aren't terribly careful."

Stardate 2365.02.07
USS Peregrine, Engineering - 0740
Eric's eyes darted around the status table and surrounding displays as information poured in from the bridge. Two displays were temporarily clones of their Science-station counterparts on the bridge, and Eric studied the screens as preliminary data about the pod flowed in from the sensors. Another screen showed him a feed from the ship's external sensors and visual pickups and he pondered the mysterious pod's secrets as he watched it gently tumble in space. Other displays showed him ever-changing graphs and tables charting power distribution to the various systems and subsystems. Eric assimilated the flow of information in stride, trying to mesh the ephemeral bits into a coherent picture of understanding. Suddenly the captain's voice came over the comms.

=/\= Drake to Engineering. Commander Thorson, we're about to bring an escape pod aboard. We are getting sensor readings that make no sense; I want an engineering team to Cargo Bay One to set up a containment field until we can be sure that it poses no threat, and we may need your assistance with the pod itself. =/\=

"I'm seeing those readings as well, Captain. I'm taking a team down there myself. As soon as we have the containment field up and Science finishes their assessment, we'll try to fill in any gaps."

=/\= Drake out =/\=, came the somewhat terse-sounding acknowledgement.

Glancing around Engineering, Eric quickly made his choice. "Lieutenant Morgan, Petty Officer Toporov, you're with me. Grab a set of field enhancers. And bring your tricorders." Eric grabbed his toolkit, stuck a tricorder to his belt, and helpfully picked up two of the four field enhancers, meter-long metal rods that he slung onto a shoulder as he exited Engineering and headed for the turbolift.

Stardate 2365.02.07
USS Peregrine, Cargo Bay One - 0745
As Eric entered the cargo bay, diminutive redhead and massive Russian in tow, he saw that the large outer doors were already open. The mysterious pod hung motionless in the grip of the tractor beam, against a backdrop of naked space that still sent a thrill through Eric when he saw it. He sent a quick, silent prayer to Odin to keep the Norns, gremlins of the gods, out of the power systems for the cargo bay's forcefield, which were the only thing keeping out the cold and airless vacuum of space.

Directing Morgan and Toporov to the proper positions, Eric and the team set up a perimeter with the field enhancers, folding out their tripod legs and securing them in their proper place. After verifying their ready status with his tricorder, Eric called out "Computer, activate Level Five containment field." =/\= Containment field activated =/\= replied the computer as a large box-shaped field of energy, six meters on a side, flared briefly purple as it came online. Eric tapped his combadge. "Thorson to bridge; containment field is powered up and stable, whenever you're ready to bring it in."

Eric kept the com signal open, starting his own scans as he listened to the Science team on the bridge report their findings.

As he studied the scans, something caught his eye that made him stop and study it closer. He gasped in comprehension just as he heard over the bridge com, =/\= One more thing, sir. I'm not entirely sure whatever is being held in the unit is entirely organic =/\= from Tesenblen.

"It's not," said Eric in wonder. "Bridge, my scans are confirming, the lifeforms in the containers are microscopic. But they're also,completely cybernetic. A fusion of organic microscopic lifeforms seamlessly blended with metallic components. I'm picking up duranium, tritanium, transparent aluminum,bridge, the non-organic components I'm picking up could all conceivably come from any number of starships, but they're all integrated into cybernetics on a level I've never seen!"

Another reading flashed across his tricorder screen and he instantly became more alert.

"Lieutenant Tesenblen, I can confirm your readings that the containment for the lifeforms is failing. That's why our readings are sketchy; the containment keeps flickering, and it obscures the readings during those intervals that it's functioning. Our containment field should keep whatever it is from spreading beyond it until we can get it where it's going, but we'll have to shore up the field on the pod's containers themselves before we can drop our containment field again.

Our field is holding stable, bridge. You can bring it in when you're ready."

Stardate 2365.02.07
USS Peregrine, Captain's Ready Room - 0800
"Tochi," Drake grinned faintly in reply to the Trill's counsel, "if you ever decide that this whole 'flying starships' gig isn't for you anymore, you should consider a career in counseling. Apparently, a couple of hundred years of shared experiences help to bestow a shocking amount of wisdom and insight."

Zai chuckled; "Kasru was an ambassador for a good many years,and married twice in that time," He offered a shrug to go along with the quiet laughter. "Not exactly a counselor," he speculated, "but much the same approach to understanding people, given the experience. If I get another chance, perhaps we'll give that a try."

Falling back into receptive silence, then, Tochi watched as the Captain focused, momentarily, on the back of his left hand and the scars that graced the skin there; letting the senior officer reflect on them and, of course, taking note of the darkening expression as Silas did so. The Captain was notably calmer, now, and Tochi felt that true nature of the man's torment was closer to the surface, now. Best to let him find his way to it, the Trill decided, maintaining his silence.

"The fact of the matter, though," Silas continued, speaking almost more to those scars than to Tochi in that moment, but still continuing on the path the Trill had hoped for, "is that it's more than a question of someone doubting me. After all, what sort of officer would I be if a few words were enough to rattle me? I won't deny that the conversation left me angry, but there is more to it..."

And here it comes, Tochi said to himself as Silas seemed to become lost in the contemplation of his scars.

"What if they are right?" the Captain asked, his eyes only meeting Zai's, again, after the query had been lofted.

It wasn't a rhetorical question, but Tochi felt that the man wasn't looking for an answer, just yet, and, so, let his "They're not" go unspoken, as well.

"My very first real command led to the death of several people, Tochi. Including Michelle's," Drake continued, holding up a hand to forestall an interruption which Zai had already chosen not to impose on him. "I know what you are going to say. The matter was investigated, it was concluded that I did everything possible, that I chose the correct course of action. I know what they say; they gave me a frilling medal for it."

Tochi heard the unvoiced sigh in the shaking of Silas' head, just then, and almost physically felt the underlying pain in his next words,

"You know what haunts me about that day? If I was put in the same situation, knowing what I know now... I would still make the same choice," Drake admitted, "In my mind, I know that it was the only course of action. That doesn't help me sleep at night, though. It doesn't make the ache go away."

,And it shouldn't, Tochi answered, but, not aloud. The man was getting very close. He was reliving that moment, in all the explicit, unedited detail that only he had access to. Reviewing the moment, almost in the same way that Tochi, himself, had learned to cope with the memories and experiences of the others who had come before him,

",at some point, my actions will almost certainly lead to the deaths of more people," Silas was saying, now, as he stared off into space, "Operating on the sorts of missions that we draw, it's likely only a matter of time. I've come to peace with that fact, as much as I can. But again... what if they are right?"

The Captain's eyes detached from that nether-point and met Zai's, again. "I believe that I make the best choices that I can. But what if I'm not fit to make those choices to begin with? Who's to say that someone more qualified than me might not have made things different aboard the Alexander? Would more lives have been saved?

That's the rub, isn't it," Drake chuckled dolefully, "No matter how hard you train, no matter how much you study... so much of what we do comes down to gut calls. One must possess conviction in their decisions; else you open yourself to second guessing and ineffective command. But that same conviction can blind you to other options if you aren't terribly careful."

"That is the rub, as you say," Tochi acknowledged with an insightful smile, "It all comes back to the fact that, even in retrospect, here, in this moment, you would still remain true to who you are, Silas. If you could do it all again, you would do what you expected of yourself, not what someone else might have expected of you after reading the reports or, even, witnessing the events first hand." He spread his hands again and offered yet another probing shrug; "Isn't that what makes a true leader? Isn't that the trait that any of us in Starfleet, or any of us in the service of any federation, for that matter, look for in those tasked to guide us?

What if," the Trill proposed, "someone else had been in your position aboard that ship, Captain? And what if they had made decisions that were radically different to those you made? Would it have saved more lives or, perhaps, would it have cost more lives?" He shrugged in answer to his own question. "We don't know," he said, "and neither does anyone else."

"What happened, happened, Silas," he continued, "and regardless of what anyone thinks of it or, in hindsight, suggests that it could have gone differently, nothing changes that. You did what you thought to be the right thing, then, and, now, all these years later, as you look back, you still know that your actions would be the same and that you would still feel right in pursuing that course of action."

Tochi rose from the seat, then, reached across the desk, and clasped the Captain's shoulder. "Who can question that? Who can claim that, in a moment that they didn't experience, that they would have done differently?

I'd sooner lose my life under the command of someone like you," Zai said sincerely, "than sit down to dinner with any number of those administrators who only see things by looking backwards but learning nothing from it."

He removed his hand, then, and, straightening his uniform, took a couple of steps away from the desk. "From all I've read," the Trill grinned, gesturing to the model of The Golden Hind, "Your ancestor had a very similar mindset to yours. In the grand scheme of things, when all was said and done, he was quite successful, wasn't he?" Tochi moved for the door, then, saying; "Sir Francis Drake, I imagine, put very little stock in what ifs; perhaps, Captain Silas Drake should emulate that, as well, hm?"

He had reached the door, now, and, just before cueing it to open, he turned back and regarded the Captain, once again. "For the record, sir," he said, "If it does come to a court martial, I will be there, front and center, as your friend above all else.

If you'll excuse me," he smiled, "I've got reports to gather from Science and Engineering. See you at the briefing, sir."

((OOC: And, with that, Tochi will leave the Captain to contemplate... as always, plenty of room for interjections and such, if you like... Edits as needed.))

Stardate: 2365.02.07
USS Peregrine. LT John Britt Reid's quarters. 0545hrs.
A .45 caliber shell tipped with a slug of pure silver. The origin was linked to a tale passed from generation to generation. When a young Texas Ranger had planned to seek revenge on the murders of his brother an aged retired Ranger made the silver filled loads and presented them to the young man. With it he told him that they were to remind him of the value of life. This had a profound effect and cooled his want of revenge and flamed his desire for justice. That is where a family legacy was started.

John sat in his quarters holding the clear cube with the bright silver cylinder inside. His commitment to Star Fleet and this cube ran parallel in his mind. Duty and honor on one side; justice on the other. Like those that came before him he was a lawman.

John slipped the block back into the black silk bag and stowed it back in the drawer. He was off duty for another glorious eight hours and there were some more than interesting crew member on board. Lt. D'rai Sa'eridon was possibly the most amazing woman he had ever met. Her feline features had caught his attention but her piercing blue eyes captivated him. He wasn't sure of the protocols between Human and Caitian. From what he had observed she was brilliant, talented and dedicated and if they only ever just became friends John would still feel ,. well maybe better than friends.

With a few hours to fill John headed to the mess, perhaps Karri might show.

Stardate: 2365.02.07
USS Peregrine. Mess hall. 0545hrs.


Karri went to the replicator grabbing a tray from the mess line. "Catial boar steak, blue rare. with Sonta cream, thick. kumara baked, sweet. "

taking the food from the replicator Karri went to sit by herself in a corner table. She didn't order traditional food often, but sometimes comfort food is the best.

Spooning the thick mouse like clotted cream onto the steak an cutting open the baked kumara, Karri sighed in delight as she cut the steak into thin strips the liquid pooling into the plate absorbing into the potato turning it a deep red.

Karri catching herself purring slightly, Karri blushed in embarrassment. Tucking into her meal she tried to ignore the rest of the room.

After several bites her mind wandered to which sim she'd run if the holodeck was open.

Stardate 2365.02.07
USS Peregrine, Shuttle Bay 1 - 0733
PO2 Owen stepped off the turbolift and into Shuttle Bay 1, her eyes still firmly locked to the PADD in her hand, chewing absently on her lip as she tried to absorb the concepts behind the formulae she was looking at. She scarcely looked up once in the time it took her to get from the lift to the door of the Flight Control office and, when she did, it was only to cue the door of that office open and, even then, she was trying to puzzle out the equations,

"Hyvää huomenta, Megan," SCPO Kukkonen offered cheerily, as his tiny counterpart entered the room.

"Uh-huh," Megan's response was a bit less exuberant, and her eyes were firmly fixed back on the PADD, but she did manage to lift a hand in some semblance of a wave, "G'mornin', Kook."

Kook watched, still grinning, as the waifish Petty Officer took a seat at the office's small table, and laid the PADD out in front of her. She rested her elbows on either side of the device and cradled her head in her hands as she continued glowering at the thing. "Trouble with your studies," he asked after a long moment of watching her mouth move as she read.

"Wha," Megan looked up, then, blinked at Kook as if just now realizing he was there. "Oh," she sighed, shaking her head a little and offering a smile, "Sorry, Chief; what'd ya say?"

"I asked if you were having troubles with your studies," Kook chuckled, set aside the Work Bee schematics he had been pouring over when Megan arrived, and moved to take the seat opposite her, "Or is it that you've braided your hair too tightly? Either way, you look to have a headache."

Megan laughed, too; "Yeah, and you look like you've a badger sleepin' on your face!" She reached out and tugged on his beard, then, at the same time, absently checking the plait into which she'd woven her hair to make sure that, in her rush, she hadn't made the braid too tight. Her eyes dipped to the PADD again and, with an exasperated sigh, she spun the thing around and slid it across the table to him. "It's this," she said, "What the bloody hell is this?"

Kook reached out a beefy paw and dragged the PADD closer and, then, let his eyes fall to the display,

• w^(10/3)+(10-w)^(-11/3)
  
• w=^(3/10)

, "This is maths," he grinned through his beard.

She swatted at him across the table; "I bloody well know it's maths, Kook! And I know I should know it but, when I try to get my head ‘round it, it's gettin' all wibbly-wobbly with the rest o' the bloody maths I've been eatin', o' late!"

SCPO Kukkonen nodded, remembering well all of the frustrations he'd experienced when studying for his own bridge certification, and spun the PADD back around. "Relax, Megan," he said as he slid the device toward her, "This is from a unit exam for the Advanced Navigation class, yes?"

Megan nodded, and let her eyes fall to the PADD where Kook's finger hovered just about the equations.

"These are for basic Warp-Time-Distance, Warp-Distance-Time, and Time-Warp-Time calculations," he said, "Not even so much for navigational purposes as they are for,"

Megan's eyes widened and a bright smile of recollection spread across her elfin face. ",For estimating travel times or distances based on warp variables," she squeaked over him. "Bugger, I did know that!"

"Exactly," Kook nodded, tapping the PADD before leaning back in his chair and offering a proud grin. "You've been studying too hard, Megan," he offered, then, "Perhaps put away your studies for a time, give your mind a break, yes?"

Megan offered a brain-weary little smirk and shrugged; "Lt Zai says we really need another body for the CONN rotations, though. I need to get this out of the way and get that cert,"

Kook hauled himself from his seat, then, and came around the table. "Yes, pieni," he chuckled, laying one massive hand on the woman's shoulder and giving her a friendly shake, "but what would he do with your certification if your brain melted from getting it, hm? Studying too much can be just as bad as not studying at all. Come! Let's go run the checklists on the Type 10s, eh? Maybe do an in-flight check on Work Bee 2?"

Megan nodded and smiled. "Brills," she said, closing the screen on her PADD, and climbing out of her own seat, then. "Thanks, Kook!"

"Ole hyvä, pieni."