Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine; Sickbay, Deck 4 - 1725

Dana struggled for a few seconds and then threw caution to the wind and spit out what she was wanting to say, "Do you think.. maybe .. that whatever shocked Chief Thorson was still within him until he rested on that medical bay and then it left him and found PO Bachmann once he was working with it?"

She knew it sounded preposterous; more like science fiction, but it had been running around in her head since she had gone over the sequence of events in her mind.

"I know it sounds crazy," Dana went on quickly, "but I think it bears thinking about. But I have no way of proving anything either way. Medical scans show nothing that I can see in PO Bachmann and Crewman Adler has found nothing in the work station. So, I don't know." She sighed her frustration.

"Do you think it safe to wake PO Bachmann?" Dana asked the Doctor, "He might be more lucid now and be able to provide incite into what happened to him." She knew it was a long shot, but thought it worth a try.

(OOC: Assuming Doctor's permission to proceed carefully.)

Dana nodded and then readied a hypospray with a mild stimulant with just enough dosage to bring him to so that they could talk to him. She made sure the restraints were secure and then pressed the hypo to his neck.

As the stimulant took effect, Ryan's eyes snapped open and he gasped on an overly urgent breath of air. He tried to get to his feet but found himself unable to do so. Someone had restrained him to the bed. His eyes grew wider and, as he anxiously strained at the restraints, searched for a friendly face...

"What... what's going on? Why am I restrained?!"

...His searching gaze found CPO Cook. "Why am I in restraints, Chief," he demanded, more than asked.

"Take it easy, Ryan," Dana said in a calming tone, using the man's first name since he was a patient for the moment, "you were restrained so that you wouldn't injure yourself further. Can you tell me what happened to you? You said that you were attacked. What did you see?"

At the Chief's urging, Ryan tried to contain his anxiousness if, for no other reason, than he hoped it would get him free of this bed. "I came to do some research into what happened to LtCmdr Thorson," he huffed more than sighed, his gaze flitting between Chief Cook and the now, partially disassembled MED station just a few meters away, "I was reviewing the diagnostics from the Commander's tests and tissue samples and noticed a smudge on the console. I tried to wipe it away and..." he swallowed, his anxious gaze flicking to and quickly away from the station, "...and it... I don't know... zapped me."

Dana nodded as he explained and then when he was finished she laid a hand gently on his arm, the one that had been ‘zapped'.

"You did indeed sustain some sort of electrical ‘shock'," she admitted to him, "but we had engineering go through the console and they assure us that there is nothing there now that could have caused such an injury. You mentioned a smudge. We saw no such thing there; maybe whatever it was is gone now." Looking at the station for a moment and then back to him.

"Your damage isn't too severe," Cook went on, "you suffered some damage up your arm and into your neck. How does your arm feel?"

Bachmann looked at his arm, almost as if looking at it would provide him with more information than just feeling it might. His features screwed up into an expression of deep contemplation as he wriggled his fingers and flexed his muscles as best he could under the restraints. After a moment of this, his gaze returned to Chief Cook.

"Uncomfortable," he said flatly, "I suppose that's the best way to explain it. It's not exactly numb and it doesn't really hurt but there is a slight pins-and-needles sensation... like when one's foot falls asleep but not as intense."

"Well I think we should keep you here for observation and run a few more tests," she told him and glanced to the Doctor, "just to make sure."

(OOC: Assuming Doctor's approval and maybe some tests ordered.)

"Ryan," Dana said, "just lay back and relax while we check you out further. If you can do that, and stay calm, then I think we can remove the restraints." She looked at him as if awaiting his word that he would remain in the Medical Bed for observation.

Ryan sighed a little. "Chief, I really think I'm okay, now, but, yes, given the circumstances, you're right; more tests are probably in order..." his eyes ticked toward the partially dismantled console... "Could we maybe conduct those tests elsewhere?"

(Again, assuming Doctor's approval for restraint release; I don't see any reason she would deny it at this point.)

Chief Cook nodded to him and then hit the release on the restraints and they retracted back into the table. She smirked a little bit at his request to move away from the console and nodded.

"We will move you to the farthest Med bay from that console," she said with a gesture across the room, "I'm afraid that is as far as you can go."

Ryan looked over to the farthest bed and nodded his head; he wanted out of Sickbay but knew he had to be in here in order to run the tests.

Cook, along with PO Adama who was still a little skittish from the dressing down he had received from the Chief, moved Ryan to the Med Bay farthest away. Once there, she would assist him in laying back and making sure he was comfortable.

"We will start with taking some readings on this arm to assess the damage," she said and nodded to Adama, "and then we will move on to others that the Doctor ordered.

Ryan sighed a bit as he relaxed and again only nodded his understanding.

"Understand this Petty Officer," Dana said to him with a serious look, "as of this moment, until either the Doctor or myself authorize your release, you are confined to this sickbay, preferably this bed. If you need to get up for anything, you will let the Nurse on-duty know before you get out of bed. Understood?"

Her tone left no doubt as to the sincerity of her commands; PO Bachmann had worked aboard with with Chief Cook for a few months now and knew she took her job seriously and that she would lay down some harsh words and punishment on any of the Medical staff that disobeyed her.

"Yes Chief," Ryan replied, "I won't move without permission."

"Good," she said and patted him on his good arm, "rest for now, we will do some test in a little bit. We will try to space them out so as to allow you some time to rest."

Dana turned to PO Adama and had him step over to her desk so she could talk without disturbing Bachmann.

"I want you to scan his injuries and compare to the earlier readings,' She ordered, "and see if you can find anything that might be causing the 'pins-and-needles' effect he mentioned. If he is in too much discomfort, give him a mild pain reliever so that he can rest. The other tests that the Doctor ordered, (assuming some), try and space those out over the night. Let him rest as much as possible. Do not leave him alone. I assume you have learned a lesson here."

PO Peter Adama nodded and wisely remained silent. There was nothing he could say really; he had left his post for a minor personal errand and left the Sickbay without a certified Nurse. He hadn't expected any trouble, but Chief Cook had made it clear that the Sickbay was always manned as anything could happen at any time. Not all injuries were serious; many crewmen often injured themselves during their shift, during exercise, of just didn't plain feel well. A nurse's job was to be on duty to assist them no matter the severity of their medical emergency.

"Good," Dana went on, "now Nurse Patel will be here at 1900 hrs to relieve you. Make sure you pass on all the ordered testing and instructions. I will be back on duty at 0700 tomorrow, I expect all of the tests to be completed and the results sent to the Doctor's and my PADD by then. Now, any questions?"

"No Chief," Peter said and then, after a long pause, went on, "I am sorry for my dereliction of duty earlier. It won't happen again, Chief."

"I'm glad to hear it," Dana said with a faint smile, "we'll keep this little incident between us ... this time. Now go do your duty and keep a close eye on our patient. Notify the Doctor and myself immediately, if there is any problems."

"Well now," Chief Cook said as she turned back to PO Bachmann and approached him, "you will be in good hands here for the night. We should have all the tests done by morning and the Doctor and myself will go over them and let you know what we find and when you can go back to work. We can't have you slacking off in here when there is work to be done." She let a faint smile come to her lips to let him know that is was her attempt at a joke.

"Aye Chief," Ryan chuckled a little as he laid back and relaxed as ordered.

"Have a good night!" she said and then left Sickbay. She had appointment in the Holosuite and then Poker later tonight; she was looking forward to both of them.

(OOC: This little collaboration between Eol, playing part of PO Bachmann, and myself. Just tying up a few loose ends in Sickbay. All went well, and so far no Alien has burst out of Bachmann's chest; we'll have to wait and see though what happens later. )

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday - 42136.2)
USS Peregrine ; Deck 2 - Captain's Mess - 19:20

Haemis blinked still lost in thought the first time the operations officer asked him what he wanted to drink but was pulled out of his preoccupied state at a second try. He nodded. "Sorry, just lost in me own space." he leaned back in the chair. "Nothin too strong, but something tasty. I'll leave it to yer judgement." he nodded watching the operations officer walk away. Turning back he slowly scanned the room. He stopped as he noted a couple of the officers and whom he assumed was one of the Ambassadors looking his way and chatting. His cheeks flushed read with mild embarrassment not sure what they could be talking about, he shifted his eyes away quickly realizing he was staring back.

He took the offered glass from the Operations officer when they arrived and took a sip from the cup. He smiled looking back up from the glass. "Not bad, we'll keep ye around another week or so right?" he smiled and stood slowly. Perhaps he should at least try and mingle a bit, and this new found liquid courage might actually help that a bit.

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine; Deck 2; Captain's Mess - 1911

",there will always be problems, Ambassador," Tochi concurs with a statement recently made by Threel, "but peace isn't found by trying to escape those problems; it's found by confronting them, just as D'Lar and yourself are doing by attending this summit."

We likely shouldn't be saying anything where the summit is concerned, he scolds himself, sipping from a mug of bitter Kuldaran Forsh and leaving the ambassadors to , but, wouldn't ignoring the Ambassadors' topics of discussion, in the end, be a bigger breach of protocol than ignoring Capt Jacobs' directives?
D'Lar and Threel natter on over the statement for a moment. Tochi only half-hears the particulars of the exchange as his gaze seeks out Asovil for an instant and then traces an attentive circuit around the room to acertain that everything is still in order. His attentions are drawn back to the conversation when Ambassador D'Lar snorts out a chuckle around the rim of his mug.

"This reminds me of a joke, Threel," the Kuldaran grins after wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "How many Klingons does it take to change a lighting unit?"

Threel's brow furrows in either confusion or consternation (Tochi isn't quite sure which, at the moment) and, then, the Rytain offers a shrug in response. "I don't know," he admits, "How many?"

"Two," D'Lar grins wryly, "One to change the unit and another to stab the first in the back and take all the credit!" The Kuldaran's laughter at his joke is loud but infectious, evoking a chuckle from even Threel who, to this point, had found very little humor in anything D'Lar had said. Tochi laughs, as well, despite having heard that same joke numerous times before.

"Would you like a drink, sir?"

The offer from Crewman Pierce alerts Tochi to the fact that someone else has arrived and, as the Trill's attentions are pulled away from Threel and D'Lar to see whom it might be, the Kuldaran asks; "Is that Security that has just arrived, Lieutenant Zai? Are you expecting trouble?"

"Not at all, Ambassador," Zai answers as his gaze finds the newly appointed CEO, whose entry had somehow gone unnoticed by the XO, "That would be Lt McTavish, the Peregrine's Chief of Engineering."

"Engineering?" D'Lar chuffs. "It would seem that he is the entire Engineering department!"

"His size is impressive," Threel adds thoughtfully, "Would he not be better suited to a combat position?"

"Wouldn't we all be better suited if there were no combat positions?" The Trill counters with a sagacious smile. He holds up a hand, then, to forestall any arguments that such a lofty ideal is, in reality, unreachable. "A dream to dream, we know," Tochi continues, "what meaning is there to peace if there is no conflict for it to counter, after all? Still," he inclines his head toward the CEO whom has just received his drink from Crewman Pierce, "the physicality of Mr McTavish, there, is far from his greatest asset to Starfleet. His knowledge of engineering and his understanding of the Peregrine's physicality are of greater benefit to us, in all actuality. After all, without support from behind the front lines, what good would those serving there be, in the long run? Without reliable Engineers, the war-fighters' equipment would certainly fail after a time, and they'd be reduced to hurling rocks and waving sticks. Without talented people in our Science and Medical divisions, what would become of those on the front if they are injured or exposed to any number of environmental conditions, chemical or biological agents, and etcetera?" Still smiling, Tochi shrugs vaguely and concludes; "Combat positions would be all but pointless without support positions, we think. Very short-lived, if nothing else."

"Interesting," D'Lar mutters, still looking toward the CEO. Quite suddenly, the Kuldaran calls out in an attempt to get the Scotsman's attention. "Lt McTavish! Please, join us, I would enjoy learning more about this vessel we are guest upon."

As Tochi's gaze turns, once more toward Lt McTavish, he catches sight of Asovil brushing her hair back over her ear in the absent-minded way he'd seen her do before and it causes his smile to warm a fraction, he chases the thought of his own fingers brushing that hair over that ear from his mind and forces his gaze on to frame the engineer, "Yes, Lieutenant," the XO urges Haemis, "Please,"

((OOC: And POOF! It's a post! Re-tag McTavish and anyone else who might want to jump in.))

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine ; Deck 3 - Chief Petty Officer Quarters - 1945

CPO Dana Cook came from the Holosuite where she and CPO Brooks had been sparring, or as he liked to call it, being her punching bag. Well, he couldn't expect to reach her level in so short a time; this was only his 6th time sparring with her. He was improving in his skill and he was a strong, fit man. If he ever did land a solid blow then he might do some damage; so far he hadn't been that lucky.

She approached her quarters and wondered how Lauren was holding up with the unpleasantness with her superior officer being arrested and most of his lab being confiscated by Starbase security. She was sure that the Captain was steaming as it was out that he knew nothing about the incident till it was all over.

She stepped up and pressed the button to open the door and then stepped inside. As she stepped inside and hit the door control to close it behind her, the first thing that Dana noticed when she walked in was a comm badge laying on the floor near the doorway. Bending down she picked it up and assumed it had to be her roommate's badge.

"Lauren?" Dana said as she stepped further into the room and saw Lauren pacing the carpet with a PADD in her hand working on something, "you alright?"

Lauren had been her roommate since coming aboard the Peregrine and they had gotten along well from day one. While Lauren was straight as an arrow, by the book sort, and Dana was the sort that bent the rules a little, they still managed to get along and have a bit of an influence on the other. Dana had gotten Lauren into playing poker in the weekly Chief's Poker game even though she thought it a violation of the rules. Once Dana had explained that the Captain was aware of the game and hadn't ordered them to stop as long as it was all in good fun and it didn't disrupt ship operations. Lauren had even had a few drinks of the illegal alcohol with Dana; she was a lightweight for sure but she didn't indulge near as much as Dana. No, Dana liked and cared about Lauren and concern had to be evident in her tone when she addressed her about her condition.

Chief Crane pauses in her deliberations caught completely unawares by Dana's entrance. So involved in her thoughts, the scientist misses the doors opening. Pausing mid-stride nearly causes her to fall over but she barely catches herself, a look of surprise on her mousy face.

"Uh," she forces out the sound reflexively while gathering her thoughts. But the sight of her friend finally breaks through her posturing and her face screws up with emotion. "Dana, I'm in big trouble!"

"Aww Lauren," Dana said seeing her friend about to break down. She walked over and reached out and takes her into a hug for a few seconds, then she withdraws her to arm's length and looks at her.

"Does this have to do with Lt. Tesenblen being arrested?" Dana asked her and even though she was sure that it was, she was uncertain how Lauren could be involved. Unless she had somehow been involved with what he was working on that got him in trouble.

"Yes." Chief Crane sniffs and wipes at her right eye with the back of her hand. "I--I was the one who reported Lieutenant Tesenblen.

"I talked with Horatio about the project he had just brought on first," she hurries to explain all the while refusing to meet her friend's eyes. "I tried to get him to see the potential for danger that having that plant on board could bring especially with our current mission but he said that he had Captain Drake's approval.

"I didn't have any other options and now she says that I'm confined to my quarters and she's going to bring this up with the Captain."

Lauren casts pleading, watery brown eyes up at Dana, "What else could I have done? The whole mission was at risk, but I didn't want anything to happen to Horatio. I didn't want him to go.

"Dana, I think I'm going to be court martialed. I think she thinks I was a traitor to this ship and now I'm going to get drummed out of Starfleet."

Dana visibly winced when Lauren mentioned what she had done. She sighed heavily and shook her head slightly. This was big trouble; circumventing the change of command was serious and especially when something like this personally embarrassed the Captain.

"Oh, Lauren," Dana said, "you know you did the wrong thing, right?" She lead her over to the couch in the common room and eased her down and sat beside her before she continued, "I'm sure you had good intentions, but you should have gone to the Captain and explained just like you did with Lt. Tesenblen. You should have trusted the Captain to listen and then do what he thought was best for 'his' ship. That is his job and he does it quite well.

"Now," Dana went on, "who is this ‘she' you keep mentioning?"

"Lieutenant Junior Grade Sh'iraolnas," Lauren bitterly reveals. "She's the new Andorian chief science officer, and we both know how Andorians are."

"Your new superior then," Dana nodded. "Well this is serious stuff Lauren, no doubt. But it is perfectly within the Captain's right to keep something like this aboard ship. He might just handle the punishment himself, since I'm not sure he would want to bring up a court martial which would expose the issue across Starfleet. I mean, a court martial isn't something that can be kept private. But Captain's punishment will remain aboard this ship and probably just among the people involved and senior staff. Most of the crew would never know what you did."

Dana hoped that this would be so. She would have to speak with this Lt. Sh'iraolnas and even the Captain, if she could, on CPO Crane's behalf. She sighed again and shook her head.

"You shouldn't have taken this on yourself," Dana told her. "You should have come to me and asked my advice. You know you can trust me, Lauren. Speaking of that, just know that I will not breath a word of this to any other person aboard except for your superior or the Captain. I will see if I can talk to both of them tomorrow about this issue, but don't expect to get off unscathed. You could still be demoted, but I don't think you will be kicked out of Starfleet, or even off this ship. You're too valuable and I will explain that to your Lt. Sh'iraolnas."

She gave her roommate a small smile but doubted that it would be comforting at a time like this. Dana would make sure to talk to the involved officers tomorrow. She would have to get someone to cover part of her shift after she checked on their lone patient and his test results.

"The Senior staff is all involved in that diplomatic soirée tonight," she told Lauren, "so I doubt your lieutenant has had a chance to speak with the Captain about it. That is probably why you are sitting here worrying so much. But I am sure that tomorrow, there will be some action on this and you will probably be before the Captain explaining your actions to him. Concentrate on that. What you are going to say and how. Be truthful in your words, but be sincere in your thoughts that you were concerned for the safety of the ship. Also, you have to be clear that there will be punishment and that you are ready to accept that, and hopefully continue to serve this ship. It is going to be rough on you, but you will get through this and I will help you however I can. Alright?"

"I don't know," Lauren sniffs again and slowly shakes her head. "I think I really messed up. Captain Drake has no reason to do anything other than throw the book at me.

"I've been going through options with the computer. There's the option to press for a court martial if I don't agree with the Captain's decision. I just don't know what I'm going to do. And you were on shift, Dana. I couldn't exactly come pull you away from your duties. I was going to let the whole thing slide until I learned that the ambassadors were being quartered on the Peregrine. Then there wasn't time to do anything other than what I did. Like you said, the senior staff is all involved with the delegation, I just don't see anything good happening. I think I'm as good as done."

Placing her hand on CPO Cook's thigh, Lauren offers a weak smile and says, "I don't want you getting involved, Dana. Stay as clear of this as you can. When mud splashes, it dirties whomever is nearby and right now, I'm wallowing in the stuff. I appreciate your willingness to speak to the Captain on my behalf, but please just pretend that you don't know anything about this until it's over."

"Don't you worry about me," Dana told her, patting the back of her hand, "I can take care of myself. I'm not afraid of getting a little dirty, so don't worry about it. I will see if I can discuss this with them, the Lt and the Captain. I think you have rights as an accused and one right is to have people speak for you. I would just want to discuss it with them to see how they intend to handle it. If they don't want to discuss it with me, then that is their decision."

"Now," Dana sighed, "you should stop looking through all of this and get some rest." She said tapping the PADD with a finger. "Why don't you lay down for a bit and get your head clear? I know you're upset and you will think better if you get some rest. I need to shower for one, been boxing again, but first do you need anything? Have you eaten anything?"

Lauren's soft brown eyes, rimmed with red from crying, practically seeped with gratitude at the kindness she is being shown by her roommate. Pressing her lips together while smiling softly, the CPO nods in agreement. "You're right," she sighs. "I should be getting some rest.

"Thank you, Dana. I still wish you'd keep clear of this situation. It can only end up poorly for you too. But I do appreciate your support."

"You go get cleaned up. I know you've still got the poker game tonight. So, you go have fun and don't worry a bit about me. I'll take your advice and just go to sleep. Maybe I'll feel more optimistic in the morning, after all."

Rising, Chief Crane waits until CPO Cook joins her and then gives her a fierce, quick hug. "Thank you," she whispers and in truth feels a little better that there's someone on board who cares for her.

Dana returns the hug for a few moments and then gets uncomfortable and breaks the embrace.

"Ok, ok, lets not get all mushy on me now," she gives Lauren a small grin, "besides I haven't taken that shower yet."

"We're all going to miss your money at the game tonight," Dana says with a smile, knowing that Lauren is one of the ones that often loses every time she plays. She then turns and heads towards her room and her shower.

Lauren chuckles a little bit as her friend heads to shower before the big Chief's Poker game. She turns and heads to her own room, leaving her PADD on the table in the common area.

(OOC: This small collaboration brought to you by Brom and myself. Hope you enjoy! )

Stardate 2365.02.08 (Monday - 42136.2)
USS Peregrine ; Deck 2 - Asovil's Quarters - 23:15

Tired doesn't begin to describe the Andorian as she shuffles into her quarters. The door closing behind her, Asovil falls back against it and closes her eyes. Diplomatic engagements are exhausting! she exclaims to herself with eyes closed and head tilted back, her antennae pressed against the cool metal. Images of the night's events casually stroll through her thoughts neither welcomed nor shunned, just there for her to observe. Reliving the engrossing conversations, the way her aggravation bloomed when D'Lar so flippantly tossed insults about using humor to slip every slight through the cracks, and the way that the evening ended; most of all the interactions she'd had with Tochi and the way he had so adeptly handled the event. Having multiple lives to draw upon certainly has its benefits, she smiles softly and clasps her hands, pressing them against her lips. The Peregrine is not what she thought it would be.

Her father would not be impressed with her recent behavior, of that she is certain. He's a man of strict Andorian principles despite his forward-thinking in cybernetics. He is proud of her scientific endeavors but is prouder of her time at the Imperial Academy and in service to the Empire. Sevar used to say that he could never fully earn their father's approval because he was just a soldier. That's why joining Starfleet wasn't such a big deal to her older brother. He just knew that he could never live up to Ekassol's vision for his future. Tethaas, her other older brother, never bothered to try and joined the merchant fleet as soon as he was able like their mother had done before children were in the picture. Right up until Sevar's untimely death, Asovil is certain she was following a path that her father was absolutely ecstatic with: science and military service. Transferring from the Imperial Guard to Starfleet Academy had been a disappointing change in the future he had planned for her, but he condoned the move due to being honor bound by Sevar's commitment to serve, so he had supported her.

As if he isn't going to be furious enough, Asovil pushes away from the doors and feels the jubilation of her new friendship with Tochi Zai subside to be replaced by the trepidation surrounding the eventual communication with her mother and father. Demoted, transferred, and infatuated with a Trill. Shaking her head, the Andorian woman begins to undress, returning everything to its place with the precision of a practiced soldier and the attention to detail of a successful scientist.

"Computer," her badge is placed in its case on the vanity shelf as she softly addresses the ship's systems. "Are there any messages for me?"

=/\= There is one message for you, Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas. =/\=

Fluttering immediately ensues within her bosom. Making her way to the personal computer at the desk, she slips out of her dress coat and activates the screen. A message is displayed on the screen within a couple of seconds and the excitement within is destroyed by a sudden rampaging rage. Simple words from an individual she had hoped to never hear from again practically dance before her sapphire eyes.

Enjoy your new post. - Lieutenant Namesif

His long, pale, oval face with stringy, receding black hair and a full beard and mustaches instantly appears at the forefront of her mind. Even his smile is insufferable as she imagines him chortling over his victory. Deprived of her affections, he has obviously taken consolation in the black mark on her career.

Stabbing the computer screen with her right index finger and nearly breaking her nail in the process she deletes the message in a huff. Squeezing her eyes shut, the scientist clenches her fists at her side and breathes in deeply, then releases the air slowly through her nose. She repeats this process until her hands naturally relax and the rage has subsided.

As a girl, Asovil's temper had delivered her into more tight spots than she cares to remember. It wasn't until the Imperial Academy that she learned that control technique. Knowing full well that another wrathful outburst would likely land her a desk job at some podunk outpost in the quietest regions of the galaxy she knows she is going to have to put that method to practice more often than not aboard the Peregrine. She cannot afford to allow her natural combative tendencies to get the better of her.

Methodically changing into her shorts and leaving her undershirt on, she secures her uniform in the wardrobe. Moving with a forced listlessness, the blue-skinned young woman pads over to her bed and folds the blankets down just enough for her to slide underneath. Another deep breath in and released, then another, and she closes her eyes. I'll remove my makeup when I wake, she decides as she remembers that she hasn't done so already. I've the meeting with Ensign Maize first thing in the morning. I hope that this mess with Chief Crane stops with Lauren. What a disaster to walk into.

"Computer," she begins her request of the system. "Wake me at oh-four-thirty hours."

=/\= The alarm has been set. Have a good night, Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas. =/\=

I wonder at what time Captain Drake will call me up to his office? she shifts and pulls up the blankets from underneath the bottom of the bed to keep her little blue toes from being bent uncomfortably beneath the press. He seemed very reserved tonight at the dinner. He allowed Tochi to handle most of the conversation. Perhaps he's a man of few words—a man of action. That, I can appreciate. Those are qualities of a good Andorian captain, Asovil's line of thought begins to make unplanned for turns taking her from the path of productivity into a dreamland filled with possibilities.

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine; Bridge - 2200
Dio was on his fourth cup of coffee for the evening. It was painfully late, and the volume with which he was downing the beverage was starting to make his stomache churn unpleasantly from acid and minimal food. But at least it was helping him stay focused, even if the words on the datapads were starting to blur together and he had scarce things to keep his mind occupied from a tumult of anxious thoughts.

The Peregrine evening was still. Sensors didn't report anything out of the ordinary outside of the ship or around the Coronado. Inside of the ship, the only excitement was a reception he was monitoring on one of a data-pad with considerable personal tension. Even the bridge crew had been somewhat awkward and quiet - the events of the day, the new faces on ship. They had seemingly only looked up from their work occasionally to take in the reception coordination.

Thankfully Lasad knew of the universal ice breaker in Star Fleet.

Past assignment gossip.

"So there we were." Dio waved his arm dramatically to indicate the bridge as a whole, while Crewman Amai listened with veiled amusement to her new chief officer.

"Six diplomats from all over the sector, an admirals, a commodore five captains and a bunch of retinue. We'd spent a day decorating the entire ten-forward for the event. Our chef had decided he wanted to do this elaborate souffle as the final course of the diplomatic dinner. A real kitchen was set up in the Melbourne cargo hold for the affair. All these exotic ingredients he'd picked up on our last stop, it was going to be his crowning achievement. The talk of star fleet!" He paused for dramatic effect, letting his audience take in the set up.

"Oh, I think I've heard this tall tale before, but never from someone claiming to be an eyewitness. Was he three days from retirement, and one of the ambassadors was actually a minister of state?" Miahaya Amai teased from behind the operations station, clearly not entirely buying this, but was still listening to Dio's dramatic rendition. Dio gauged that Thomason might not be interjecting, but he kept tilting his head occasionally to listen.

John looked from Dio to Miahaya and leaned in, "Oh this has got to be good." John could use a good story and a laugh.
"Four weeks actually, and I swear on my honor that this is a true telling." Dio placed his hand over his chest with feigned severity, before cracking another smile.

"Dinner had gone over splendidly, and I, poor ensign that I was, had drawn the short straw to serve the desert. This was after the Chef had given us a twenty-minute-lecture to not so much as breathe on it or it might destabilize the molecular structure of the frosting. It was massive, we were all petrified and I was trying so hard not to shake."

He paused again. The bridge was dead quiet. Amai leaned forward expectantly. Thomason stopped what he was typing on his console, waiting for the punch line.

"... You dropped it on the ambassador didn't you?" Amai finally demanded.

"Not at all!" Lasad leaned forward, one loose braid finally escaping his hair clip and falling forward in front of the officer's face. "I carried it into the ready room and set it down without so much as a jostle to his fancy sugar crystal lattice work. It was a work of art. You had cakes made with his special ingredients, filled with this fancy citrus gel, with a balsamic vinegar reduction drizzled all over the top. Sugar art for all six ambassadors national emblem. It was positively MAJESTIC..."

It was time to bring it home. Dio paused for a moment, before grinning roguishly at his audience "...Tell me, did you ever get punked at the academy by a foaming toilet? Happens around the time first-years go through advanced chemistry?"

Amai looked a little confused at the topic change, then gasped in sudden realization "Yes... OH N..."

"...So apparently one of the ingredients the Chef picked up on shore leave had been mistranslated, and had some interesting chemical acceleration properties he wasn't aware of. Something close to sodium bicarbonate."

"So I'm sitting with the rest of Operations outside, sipping a drink and congratulating each other for a job well done, when we hear the screams from Ten Forward. Before we can so much as twitch, out comes the entire reception dinner - covered in this utterly noxious fruit-scented foam. It was this sickly purple and yellow color, kept pouring out of the room for at least an hour, clung to everything, stained a few dozen dress uniforms and made what survived of the cake utterly inedible. Apparently slicing up the desert display had been enough to mix things and start up the chemical reaction. And it was on that very day, I learned three very important lessons."

Amai, by this point, had stopped laughing and was wiping tears out of her eyes.

"One, mystery treats should always be run by the science department. Two, replicators are woefully under-appreciated by Chefs and should *always* be used when preparing official dinners. And three, never celebrate a job well done until it's actually over - because the universe has a helluva sense of humor."

((Leaving optional openings for Reid (now filled in!), but otherwise the next post will be end of shift and Dio going to bed

Stardate 2365.02.08
USS Peregrine - Bridge - 1830

The turbo opened and John stepped out on to the bridge. Walking the Tactical console, "I'm here to relieve you Sir."
(assuming something like, "But aren't you in the Command chair next shift?"

"Yes sir, it was me or the new Ensign and as you said I'll need to be here gamma anyway,.if I need help Sir I'll call for it."

Lt. Berk released the Tac to John and left the bridge to attend the Captain's dinner.

John took his place and as he looked around the bridge he noticed a few empty food serving plates and a rather appealing aroma. Guessing the the new OPS officer was had been trying out menu ideas on the bridge crew. "Just my luck,too late for leftovers."

The bridge routine wore on and was fairly quiet with all the events of the day most of the crew had just settled in hoping for a non eventful evening.

The Lt. Lasad had been bidding his time drinking copious amounts of coffee. John guess he'd had pretty long day too. As was ever the case for an Ops office he felt it his duty to keep moral up and broke the silence.

"So there we were." Dio waved his arm dramatically to indicate the bridge as a whole, while Crewman Amai listened with veiled amusement to her new chief officer.

"Six diplomats from all over the sector, an admirals, a commodore five captains and a bunch of retinue. We'd spent a day decorating the entire ten-forward for the event. Our chef had decided he wanted to do this elaborate souffle as the final course of the diplomatic dinner. A real kitchen was set up in the Melbourne cargo hold for the affair. All these exotic ingredients he'd picked up on our last stop, it was going to be his crowning achievement. The talk of star fleet!" He paused for dramatic effect, letting his audience take in the set up.

"Oh, I think I've heard this tall tale before, but never from someone claiming to be an eyewitness. Was he three days from retirement, and one of the ambassadors was actually a minister of state?" Miahaya Amai teased from behind the operations station, clearly not entirely buying this, but was still listening to Dio's dramatic rendition.
John looked from Dio to Miahaya and leaned in, "Oh this has got to be good." John could use a good story and a laugh.

Dio continued,"Four weeks actually, and I swear on my honor that this is a true telling." Dio placed his hand over his chest with feigned severity, before cracking another smile.
Oh that was a sure sign of a splendid lie.

"Dinner had gone over splendidly, and I, poor ensign that I was, had drawn the short straw to serve the desert. This was after the Chef had given us a twenty-minute-lecture to not so much as breathe on it or it might destabilize the molecular structure of the frosting. It was massive, we were all petrified and I was trying so hard not to shake."

He paused again. The bridge was dead quiet. Amai leaned forward expectantly. Thomason stopped what he was typing on his console, waiting for the punch line.

"... You dropped it on the ambassador didn't you?" Amai finally demanded.

"Not at all!" Lasad leaned forward, one loose braid finally escaping his hair clip and falling forward in front of the officer's face. "I carried it into the ready room and set it down without so much as a jostle to his fancy sugar crystal lattice work. It was a work of art. You had cakes made with his special ingredients, filled with this fancy citrus gel, with a balsamic vinegar reduction drizzled all over the top. Sugar art for all six ambassadors national emblem. It was positively MAJESTIC..."
John thought, " Vinegar on a cake, oh yeah let's add acetic acid to the mix, that sound just yummy"

Dio paused for a moment, before grinning roguishly at his audience "...Tell me, did you ever get punked at the academy by a foaming toilet? Happens around the time first-years go through advanced chemistry?"

Amai looked a little confused at the topic change, then gasped in sudden realization "Yes... OH N..."
The grin started to broaden across John face, the implication was obvious.

"...So apparently one of the ingredients the Chef picked up on shore leave had been mistranslated, and had some interesting chemical acceleration properties he wasn't aware of. Something close to sodium bicarbonate."
"Bingo,.. " John could nearly guess the rest.

"So I'm sitting with the rest of Operations outside, sipping a drink and congratulating each other for a job well done, when we hear the screams from Ten Forward. Before we can so much as twitch, out comes the entire reception dinner - covered in this utterly noxious fruit-scented foam. It was this sickly purple and yellow color, kept pouring out of the room for at least an hour, clung to everything, stained a few dozen dress uniforms and made what survived of the cake utterly inedible. Apparently slicing up the desert display had been enough to mix things and start up the chemical reaction. And it was on that very day, I learned three very important lessons."

Amai, by this point, had stopped laughing and was wiping tears out of her eyes. John had joined Amai in the rolling laughter.

"One, mystery treats should always be run by the science department. Two, replicators are woefully under-appreciated by Chefs and should *always* be used when preparing official dinners. And three, never celebrate a job well done until it's actually over - because the universe has a helluva sense of humor."

Sucking up a solid breath john saluted Dio. "Sir..after a day like we've had today that was just what we needed,..in fact to show my gratitude, I've notice you've been hitting the coffee to keep the wheels turning. So if you would like get some rest I'd be glad to relieve you at the Command Chair early. I've the next watch so for a short bit I can handle the Chair and the TAC. ,.You've earned it,Sir."


(Ok,,.. I went ahead with the post assuming Amara D would trade out Reid for Berk. Now tossing the ball back if Dio would like to get some shut eye.)

Stardate 2365.02.09
USS Peregrine, Captain Drake's Quarters - 0015

It had been one incredibly long, eventful day. Silas sat, slumped, in a chair by his desk; the lights in the cabin were dimmed, but he had a few loose ends yet to tie up. Sleep - limited as though it would be - would have to wait a bit longer. The Captain held a PADD in his hand, though his focus was more on his thoughts than on the display.

The "highlights" of the day played themselves through his mind. The initial meeting with Jacobs and the ambassadors, and the sudden discovery that they would be aboard the Peregrine. The rushed preparations for the ambassadors. Thorson's injury and sudden evacuation. The turmoil and turnover involving his crew, culminating with the secret arrest of Lieutenant Tesenblen. The evening's reception, and the necessity of playing against his own strengths in such a political setting.

Any one of these items would have been large and demanding of Drake's time and energy; all coming in one single day was borderline overwhelming. Silas was bone tired, yet when he closed his eyes, it felt as though his skin fairly tingled, that the room slowly rotated. Perhaps a call to Doc Moore was in order, to request a mild sedative? But no, it was after midnight; there was no way that Silas would give a second thought to disturbing the poor woman... nor did he crave looking weak in front of his officers.

His gaze rested for a moment on the doctor's birthday gift to him. With a bit of a grin, Silas stood up and grabbed a snifter from a small cabinet. Perhaps a little self medication was in order.

The Captain poured a healthy dose of the amber liquid, then gave it a deep sniff before taking a sip. The good doctor had clearly spared no expense - this was top shelf alcohol that clearly had some serious age on it. Silas would have to make a point to compliment her selection. Elements of dried fruit, of flowers, of spices competed for his attention behind a wonderfully smooth alcoholic warmth. Replicators and synthohol had nothing on this.

As he sipped, Silas fired off a couple of meeting invitations for the following morning - Lieutenant McTavish at 0800 hours, and Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas at 0830. He owed them each an official welcome and briefing, and it was best to do so sooner rather than later.

Both of them had handled themselves well at the reception, though Silas felt that his new Chief Engineer was probably closer to his own heart in terms of making nice politically than was the new Chief Science Officer. Fortunately for them all, Tochi had been there, acting and looking every bit the diplomat, himself. For a brief moment, the self doubt he had shared with his XO crept into Drake's thoughts; clearly, Lieutenant Zai was better suited to head up a diplomatic mission than was he. However, he did not allow himself to dwell on that fact for long; Silas was in a diplomatic position out of temporary necessity only - both he and Starfleet understood that he fit a different niche in the grand scheme of things.

With a rueful grin, Silas dove back in to the various daily reports. With all of the turnover and chaos considered, everything was actually pretty quiet, but one item did leap out to him - a log entry from Security.

Apparently, one of Berk's men had delivered an evening meal to Chief Petty Officer Lauren Crane, who was confined to quarters. In a larger ship, such a footnote would have likely gone unnoticed, but with only sixty odd souls to account for, the entry stood out.

Drake's eyes narrowed as he tried to recall Chief Crane's face. Laura, Lora... Lauren. That was it. She was a researcher or technician in the Science department, if he remembered correctly. Drake called up the woman's service record, which confirmed his impression - there was not a single disciplinary entry to be found.

The Captain found himself idly wondering about the circumstances. Was this a matter of an indiscretion around the quick shore leave at Starbase 118? Or was it perhaps a situation of the new sheriff in town making sure that it was fully clear that things would be done to her satisfaction? It certainly would not be the first time that a new officer felt the need to make an example over some minor infraction.

Drake closed the personnel file, deciding to give Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas an opportunity to bring it up during their meeting the following morning. If she chose not to do so, the Captain might ask about it... though according to tradition, intra department discipline was left to the department head, and stayed beneath the Captain's notice. By that token, he should perhaps not pry into the situation; there was no need to embarrass the chief or make his new CSO feel as if she were being undermined. Silas decided to just play the situation by feel when the time came.

Silas found his glass to be half empty, and considered dimming the lights the rest of the way, when the chime rang. Will this day never end? he mused. "Yes, who is it?" he asked, hoping that he had managed to disguise both the fatigue and traces of irritation in his voice.

=/\=It's Lt Zai, sir. We're sorry to bother you, Captain,=/\= Tochi replied to Silas' acknowledgement over the comm, =/\=but we made some observations at the reception, this evening, that we would like to discuss with you if you have a few minutes.=/\=

Drake sighed. It won't keep until morning? he inwardly grumped, but he swallowed the thought. After all, Tochi would not have come simply to chatter - the Trill clearly felt that he had information of importance to discuss. It was no wonder why so many Captains went gray prematurely - the job was quite literally never done.

"Certainly, Tochi; as usual, I haven't managed to turn in yet. Come in, please," he answered.

Silas stood as the hatch hissed open to admit the first officer. Clad in regulation gray undershirt and briefs, the Captain indicated the partially full snifter on the desk. "Absolutely fabulous brandy, there, compliments of Doc Moore," he stated. "Care for a glass?" he asked, reaching into the cabinet for another snifter. "Though if you say yes," he continued with a sideways glance, "I'm going to either demand that you drink it neat, or that you settle for something from the replicator - I'll not ruin a treasure like this with melting ice," he offered with a grin.

((OOC: Drake will serve a drink if Tochi accepts; if not, that's fine, too.))

"All right then," Drake spoke as he took a seat and gestured for Zai to do the same. "What's on your mind, Tochi?

Stardate 2365.02.09
USS Peregrine; Sickbay, Deck 4 - 0645

Chief Petty Officer Dana Cook strode into the Sickbay and noticed nothing out of place; this was good. It seemed it had been a peaceful night for all. She saw Crewman Patel was standing near the bed for PO Bachmann who appeared to be asleep at the moment; so Cook approached quietly.

"Good Morning Nurse," she said softly so as not to wake Bachmann, "How is our patient?"

"Good Morning Chief," Patel responded as he nodded and returned to looking at his PADD and making entries, "He had a restful night. No issues other than he requested something to help him sleep. He said his arm and shoulder were mildly painful and he was having problem drifting off."

"Good," Cook responded, "are the test requested complete?"

"Yes, Chief," he said and walked with her over to her desk where he lifted the PADD there and handed it to her, "All test updated and sent to you and the Doctor. Although, other than the apparent electrical tissue damage, none of the tests showed anything unusual medically. I even tried a dermal regenerator on his arm to repair some of the damage, but for some reason there was no change. It's as if it's refusing to let the tissue be repaired. I've never seen anything like it. Have you?"

Cook was looking at the test results on the PADD and shook her head absently for a moment before responding, "No. It doesn't seem to be normal electrical damage. It isn't a plasma burn either as most of the damage seems to be subdural. Strange. Well we will give these results to the Doctor and let her decide on the next course of action."

She looked back over to the bed where PO Bachmann was sleeping, "At least he isn't in any sever pain and he is able to rest. But he isn't going to like it that he has to stay here till we figure it out." She smirked knowing how he had expressed his desire to be out of here, but until they found out the cause and ascertained if he was alright, then he would be confined to this sickbay.

"Has he eaten anything?" she asked.

"He did eat dinner last night," Patel responded, "his appetite seemed normal."

"Good report Crewman," she told him as she set the PADD aside for now, "you are relieved. Get some rest."

"Thank you Chief," Patel said as he quickly made some notes in his PADD before setting it aside and after one last check on the patient, he dismissed himself and left Sickbay.

Cook sat down at her desk, where she could see PO Bachmann, and logged into her computer. She looked over the test results one last time, but only shook her head. None of this made sense. It appeared as electrical shock but it couldn't be repaired normally. Something wasn't right here. Closing the results for now, she opened up the communications interface to send a message.


Stardate: 2365.02.09 - 0708

To: Lt. Sh'iraolnas

Subject: CPO Lauren Crane

Lt,

I am writing you because I am aware of the unfortunate situation in which Chief Crane has gotten herself. She only spoke to me because we share quarters and are good friends. Rest assured that I will speak to no one about the situation, except for you or the Captain. I know the charges against her are serious and punishment is warranted, but I would like the chance to talk to you about them and what recommendations you will make to the Captain regarding her disciplinary action.

If you have a few minutes, please let me know when we can meet privately to discuss it. I would prefer to discuss it prior to you meeting with the Captain if, possible. Thank you for your time.

CPO Dana Cook
Head Nurse

Dana sat back after sending the message and sighed. She didn't know what good she could do, but she hoped that she could persuade the Captain, and Lt. Sh'iraolnas, to consider Lauren's service record and to listen to her side of the story before judging her.

That done, she rose and went about her business. When PO Bachmann awoke, she would talk to him and see how he was doing, and if he was up to it, order him some breakfast.

Stardate 2365.02.09 (Tuesday - 42137.6)
USS Peregrine ; Deck 2 - Asovil's Quarters - 04:30

=/\= Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas, the time is now oh-four-thirty. This is your wake up call. =/\=

Painfully, her mind immediately blares its wakefulness as a response to the system's alarm. Eyelids are a little less responsive. Veiled vision searches the reddish black of the inside of her lids and visions of dress uniforms dance through her head. Military training kicks in forcing her sapphire eyes open revealing a room in which absolute darkness reigns.

"Computer," she croaks. "Lights at twenty-five percent."

Setting the dim illumination affords her the ability to adjust to full wakefulness more sequentially, which the young Andorian woman has found helps her cope with the earlier hours better than a harsh and immediate awakening.

Pulling her covers aside, she sets about her morning tasks: making her bed, using the lavatory, showering, drying her hair, a light application of makeup, placing vaguely blue Andorian Ice Diamond studs in her ears, and dressing in her standard black and blue uniform takes her approximately an hour and a half. She takes care to pull the front of her white hair back over her head and between her antennae where she folds a swath of the hair at the back of her head up underneath the hair from the front, effectively shortening the length in the back forming a longer A-frame shape.

The time is now nearly 06:00 hours leaving her an hour before Alpha shift begins, which means that she effectively has a half hour to eat and get to her office. Asovil learned some years prior that a good leader is always early to duty call. Since then, she has rarely been tardy.

Deciding to check in on her schedule, the exhausted scientist asks, "Computer? Do I have any messages or schedule changes?"

=/\= You have a new meeting with Captain Drake at oh-eight-thirty hours. =/\=

Oh! Even though she has been hoping to be briefed on the mission in full, she knows that the meeting signifies the coming to a head of the Chief Crane event. She cannot help the sudden twist of her insides at the potential explosion from the volatile and moody captain. I'm not the reason for this situation, she reminds herself. Just cleaning up the mess. Repeating this thought a few times calms her nerves.

Taking the time to gauge her appearance once more before leaving her quarters, the blue-skinned beauty finds herself wondering whether she'll see Tochi today. Almost immediately noticing the darkening of her cheeks, she purses her lips and shakes her head. Turning from the mirror over the sink, the science officer strides purposefully from the quarters while mentally chastising herself for behaving like an infatuated schoolgirl.

Achieving the turbolift in short order due to its proximity to her quarters on the starboard side of the ship, she gives the orders to be taken to Deck 3 and proceeds with the short, solitary ride down one level. The Mess Hall sits at the front of the ship, also on the Starboard side adjacent to the shuttle bay. Trekking to the room requires a longer walk during which time Asovil passes unfamiliar faces as her fellow crewmen go about their business saluting her rank in what she knows is purely requirement as she's done nothing so far to earn their respect. All the same, she returns the salutes and proceeds on to her destination while mentally reviewing her day.

Oh-eight-thirty provides me with plenty of time to meet with Ensign Maize. Did I tell her we'd meet first thing in the morning? I think I did, Yes, I did. So, we should be able to resolve that meeting long before my meeting with the Captain,,
Mess halls on board the Saber Class ship are stark and utilitarian in nature. Three replicator dispensers perform their functions at one end of the room near the entry door and a shelf extends from there allowing multiple people to fill their trays and slide their meals down the row picking up silverware, mugs, and whatever else the culinary crew might have provided outside of the replicator programs. From there, the room extends out towards the port side of the ship housing multiple metallic tables set in a semicircle before a large computer screen mounted into the wall. Each table is accompanied by four metal chairs, and at this time of the morning, most are full.

Taking up a tray, Asovil sets it underneath the first replicator. "Parmath on hari with a side of torl and three krillbeast stripsteaks." Chunky light green and blue paste atop roasted pale tan flatbread with reddish strips of meat approximately the length of her hand appear on a metal plate. Sliding down to the last replicator, the young officer adds an order of Katheka at seventy-one point one degrees celsius and collects the dark blue mug bearing Starfleet's insignia on it from the dispenser. Taking the utensils and napkin, she turns and quickly assesses her seating options.

Openings at the tables are scarce which leaves the blue-skinned woman to select the closest to her between a burly looking gold uniform wearing man and a human woman of Asian descent with fine features and long black hair wearing a similarly fashioned uniform. The other individual at the table is an individual wearing a security insignia with a strong jawline, kind eyes, and short-cut wavy brown hair.

"Lieutenant Junior Grade Asovil Sh'iraolnas," she introduces herself and places her tray on the table. Settling into her chair, she looks at the large man first, her antennae attentively positioned forward. "I'm the new Chief Science Officer, and you are?"

"I am Petty Officer 2nd Class Nikolai Toporov, sir," he replies with a thick and unfamiliar accent in a voice that resonates. Smiling, he nods his welcome. "I specialize in sensors aboard this here boat."

"Petty Officer 2nd Class Rachel Wu," the Asian woman offers with a reserved smile. "I'm with Ops. Specialize in systems."

"Crewman James Stephen Galla," says the remaining man with a soft voice and a slight tilt of his head. "Security."

"It's a pleasure to meet you all," Lt. Sh'iraolnas remarks.

Mealtime is usually short especially as people need to make it to their duty shifts. Respecting her table companions' schedules, Asovil keeps the conversations short and direct while allowing everyone (including herself) ample time to eat.

Crewman Galla is first to excuse himself and the scientist is able to learn very little about him. He is quiet, attentive, and observant from what she can tell, but in the brief time she had with him she isn't even sure that her assessment is accurate and reserves the conclusions for another time. Rachel Wu is a talkative woman perhaps in her early thirties with what appears to be a light appetite. PO Toporov is someone that Asovil finds particularly interesting having never met someone with his particular speech patterns, and knowing that he works with the sensors, she suspects she will be calling on him in the future. She's slightly disappointed when he leaves and determines to spend some time getting to know him a little better. Surprisingly, Asovil finishes her meal before PO Wu and finds it necessary to extract herself from the conversation in order to still arrive early at her office.

Towards the latter portion of her meal, she witnesses Ensign Maize and PO Gaultier each arrive for their meals, but separately. The two are able to find room at another table and it isn't lost to the Andorian that they make no effort to greet her. Perhaps they see Wu talking up a storm and don't want to interrupt. The attempt to console her fears of being disliked is lame and ineffective. The lieutenant junior grade clears her tray from the table and exits the mess hall without saying a word to either of her staff.

Stardate 2365.02.09 (Tuesday - 42137.6)
USS Peregrine ; Deck 4 - Science Lab 1 - 06:40
Science Lab One's overhead lights are off when Asovil enters. A quick command from the Chief Science Officer remedies the illumination problem but the woman isn't interested in spending time within the lab at this juncture. Instead, she progresses quickly to her own office and enters with authority. To her, this is just a room at the moment where she can perform business related to her office. She has spent no energy on thinking about decorations and doesn't begin now as she settles behind her desk.

The first order of business that the department head handles is scheduling the meeting time for Ensign Maize. Oh-seven-thirty ought to allow sufficient enough time, she decides and punches in the calendar settings. Next, Asovil reviews the log entries from her staff from the previous day. This is a longer process that requires a focused and attentive mind since she can make comments and notes on each entry, offer suggestions concerning issues that have developed in projects, and pass on information to exterior sources that need an officer's approval.

Finally, she brings up her command screen that acts as the hub of information for her department once more and visits the messaging section. Scanning the screen, she spots a particular notification and brings it up.

Stardate: 2365.02.09 - 0708

To: Lt. Sh'iraolnas

Subject: CPO Lauren Crane

Lt,

I am writing you because I am aware of the unfortunate situation in which Chief Crane has gotten herself. She only spoke to me because we share quarters and are good friends. Rest assured that I will speak to no one about the situation, except for you or the Captain. I know the charges against her are serious and punishment is warranted, but I would like the chance to talk to you about them and what recommendations you will make to the Captain regarding her disciplinary action.

If you have a few minutes, please let me know when we can meet privately to discuss it. I would prefer to discuss it prior to you meeting with the Captain if, possible. Thank you for your time.

CPO Dana Cook
Head Nurse
Leaning back in her chair, the Andorian raises her manicured eyebrows and ponders the request. She cannot fathom what CPO Cook could possibly say that would change the circumstances Chief Crane has placed herself within, but relations on board a small boat such as the Peregrine can become stressed fairly easily and the blue-skinned woman is reluctant to burn potential bridges by refusing the request. Still, she chews on her bottom lip and narrows her eyes at the screen. This is a rather unorthodox situation to begin with. Considering that Crane is currently in hot water for her lack of compliance with the chain of command, Asovil briefly wonders if she should bring this meeting to the attention of Doctor Moore. She had met the woman at the reception last night and in such a setting was unable to determine her disposition, however Science and Medical often find themselves working together and it wouldn't due to snub the head of Medical.

Tapping her badge, Asovil raises the query, "Lt. Sh'iraolnas to Lt. Moore. Just a quick question for your Doctor."

(OOC: Assuming a willingness to talk.)

"I've received a request for your head nurse to meet with me this morning concerning a Science Department matter," the Andorian continues. "I've no objection to such a meeting, but I wanted to extend the courtesy of seeking your consent before I agree."

(OOC: Again, assuming something akin to, "Go for it.")

"Thank you, Doctor Moore." Having now satisfied her sense of propriety, Lt. Sh''iraolnas sets about responding to the message from CPO Cook.

Stardate: 2365.02.09 - 0715

To: CPO Dana Cook

Subject: Response: CPO Lauren Crane

Chief Cook,

I would certainly be interested in whatever you wish to share concerning Chief Crane. I have a few minutes available before a meeting scheduled for oh-seven-thirty if you can make it, otherwise I'm afraid that my schedule does not permit time before my meeting with Captain Drake.

Regards,

Lt. Sh'iraolnas
Chief Science Officer

Rereading her missive, Asovil decides that she is satisfied and sends it off. Turning back to the rest of her messages the Andorian woman begins reading through the large number of written communications concerning various projects of which she either follows, or is a part of; science journals; and video messages from friends, colleagues, and family.

Stardate 2365.02.09
USS Peregrine; Captain Drake's Quarters - 0015

=/\=Yes, who is it?=/\=

Silas sounded as tired as Tochi felt.

"It's Lt Zai, sir. We're sorry to bother you, Captain," Tochi replied, second guessing his decision to bother Silas with these particular thoughts for only a fraction of a second, "but we made some observations at the reception, this evening, that we would like to discuss with you if you have a few minutes."

=/\=Certainly, Tochi; as usual, I haven't managed to turn in yet. Come in, please.=/\=

Silas stood as the hatch hissed open to admit the first officer. Clad in regulation gray undershirt and briefs, the Captain indicated the partially full snifter on the desk. "Absolutely fabulous brandy, there, compliments of Doc Moore," he stated. "Care for a glass?" he asked, reaching into the cabinet for another snifter. "Though if you say yes," he continued with a sideways glance, "I'm going to either demand that you drink it neat, or that you settle for something from the replicator - I'll not ruin a treasure like this with melting ice," he offered with a grin.

Tochi's gaze ticked from the Captain to the brandy and the Trill offered an appreciative nod. After the cold and exceedingly bitter Kuldaran Frosh he had sampled druing the reception, the warmth and sweetness of a brandy did sound very appealing. "Ice?!?" Tochi gasped in mock horror. "What sort of barbarian do you take us for, sir?

Neat is perfect, Silas. Thank you," he grinned.

Captain Drake poured a second snifter of the brandy, offered it over to his XO, and returned to his chair. "All right then," Drake spoke as he took a seat and gestured for Zai to do the same. "What's on your mind, Tochi?"

"Lots of things; all of which could lead me into trouble," Tochi chuckled, lazily swirling the brandy as he settled himself into the indicated seat, "It's a curse, we're afraid." He lifted the snifter to his nose, taking a moment to appreciate the brandy's bouquet before taking a sip. "The reason for our intrusion tonight, though, concerns our guests," he stated.

He sighed and offered a faint shrug as he rubbed at the corner of one tired eye with a thumb; "At the reception tonight, we couldn't help but notice that one of the ambassadors doesn't seem to be as enthused, shall we say, about the prospects of this summit as he professes to be. Outwardly, of course, he expresses commitment to and even desire for peace but there's something behind that façade that plucks a sour note." Tochi took another taste of the brandy, then, and faintly shook his head. "We could have misread the situation - it has been a long day and it's been quite some time since we've truly played diplomat - but, we don't think so.

Kasru played these games for better than sixty years," the Trill continued, "and never, in all that time, did she ever encounter a situation quite like this one, The ambassadors on one ship, their entourages on another, It makes it difficult to paint a complete picture. We find ourselves wondering, now, if there is more hidden discord within the entire contingent or is it exclusive to the Ambassador?" He stared into the snifter for a moment, as if seeking the answer to that question on the surface of the amber liquid within,

"I have likely already crossed the line in regards to Captain Jacobs' mandate that we limit our contact with the Ambassadors," he said flatly, "however unavoidable it might have been, and, quite honestly, Silas, we find ourselves wanting to cross it even further. We would like," he smirked, shook his head, and leaned forward a bit, "we need to know what's going on aboard the Coronado. What the read is on the delegates, there, as it were. We fear that, if this dissonance runs deeper than just the Ambassador, this entire mission may be pointless at best."

((OOC: Good a place as any to stop for the moment, I think, and let Drake respond/interject etc... Keep us moving, anyway.))

Stardate 2365.02.09
USS Peregrine, Captain Drake's Quarters - 0015

Drake was hardly surprised when Zai accepted the brandy, neat - after all, the Trill had excellent taste (and multiple lifetimes worth of memories to develop it).

Soon, the first officer was sharing his concerns. "At the reception tonight, we couldn't help but notice that one of the ambassadors doesn't seem to be as enthused, shall we say, about the prospects of this summit as he professes to be. Outwardly, of course, he expresses commitment to and even desire for peace but there's something behind that façade that plucks a sour note."

Silas gave a tired sigh and nod. "Ambassador Threel, of course," he spoke by way of response.

Tochi expanded on his thoughts, wondering aloud at the disposition of the remainder of the delegations, and musing on Jacobs' mandate and how it impacted the mission.

Silas chuckled mirthlessly. "The problem with Captain Jacobs' mandate," he began, "is that the esteemed Captain is not here to manage it. After all, we can't very well be expected to ignore our guests; as such, we will by necessity have some contact with them. It is our duty to not only conduct them safely to the summit, but to ensure their comfort along the way."

The Captain took a sip of the amber liquid, savoring it for a moment before continuing. "I noticed some of the same things at the reception; while I lack your grace and diplomatic aplomb, I did not rise to this rank without having some talent at reading people. No, Ambassador Threel practices a good speech, but something about him does not sit well with me. D'Lar is more than a bit of an ass, there is little doubt as to that - but I feel that his dedication to the peace is genuine. Threel, on the other hand... I wonder at his agenda."

Drake fixed Zai with his gaze. "Your need to know about the situation aboard the Coronado is noted, Lieutenant, but I wonder how we could accomplish such a thing? While I can justify interacting with the Ambassadors aboard the Peregrine, I can't exactly hail Jacobs and ask if the rest of Threel's contingent seems as disingenuous as he does. I have no means to covertly observe those souls aboard that ship, nor do I have any agents there to do so for me. I share your worries about the success of this mission, but my position is currently rather impotent."

Silas sat his snifter down on the desk, frustration written all over his face. "Hell, even if I had proof that the rest of the Rytain were all as insincere about this peace process as we fear that Threel is - what, then? It's not as if I can round them up at phaser point and demand that no, they not play lip service only, but instead making a genuine effort toward peace!"

The Captain pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a moment. "I truly despise doubletalk and intrigue, Tochi. If you have any ideas as to how we should proceed in this matter, I would gladly hear them."

((OOC: okay, I don't want to get too far ahead. Tagging Tochi...))

Stardate 2365.02.09
USS Peregrine, Captain's Ready Room - 0800

The door chime sounded precisely on time, and at Drake's admonition, the hatch slid open to reveal Lieutenant McTavish. There's something to be said for punctuality, Silas mused.

The Captain stood and offered his hand to the big man, then indicated the seat across from his desk. Taking his own seat, Drake spoke.

"Thank you for joining me, Lieutenant McTavish," he began. "As you may have gathered," he continued, "I'm not much of one for subtlety or silken phrases. As such, I would prefer to cut right to the chase."

The Captain paused for a brief moment. "First off, we need to go ahead and make it formal - you are no longer the acting Chief Engineer, but simply the Chief Engineer of the USS Peregrine. From what I understand, Commander Thorson may be on extended medical leave, and it's not out of the realm of possibility that he will never again serve as Chief Engineer of a starship. It won't do for you to feel like you are simply keeping your seat warm for someone else; I believe that you will do your best work when you - and your people - understand that you are permanently in charge." A wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Well, as permanent as anything in Starfleet, at any rate. Speaking of which..."

The Captain paused for a moment, allowing his gaze to drift along the ship models mounted on the walls of the Ready Room before looking McTavish in the eye once more. He opened his mouth as if to speak, closed it again, then frowned. "Lieutenant," he finally spoke, "the second thing we must discuss is that I absolutely owe you an apology. Yesterday was truly the most trying day I have endured as commanding officer of this vessel; in the span of twenty four hours, I literally lost every single department head outside of Lieutenant Zai. Then, when I heard that you had come from the Coronado... well, I assumed a few things. In compliance with at least part of the old saying, in assuming I did at least make an ass of me."

Drake chucked slightly and held up a hand to forestall any response from McTavish. "It is the truth, and I am sorry for not welcoming you warmly to begin with. Now then," Drake gestured to the PADD on his desk, "I have taken the liberty of reviewing your personnel file - which I should have done before I met with you yesterday. It seems that you left the Coronado on less than ideal terms wth Captain Jacobs?"

((OOC: assuming that McTavish responds in the affirmative))

Again, the wry grin tugged at the corner of the Captain's mouth. "If you haven't already heard, the scuttlebutt will reach you soon enough; it is no secret that Captain Jacobs and I are not exactly the closest of friends." The Captain gave a self deprecating chuckle.

"More accurately," he continued, "Jacobs has never liked me, neither on a personal nor professional level. He makes no secret of the fact that he does not believe me fit for command of any vessel. As such, my initial thought was that he had pulled strings to plant you as eyes and ears aboard my ship." Drake paused, and a twinkle touched his eye for a moment. "Of course, that was before I learned that you struck him, which led to your transfer."

((OOC: allowing a response from McTavish, if desired))

"Now then," Drake continued, "I could certainly never officially condone such an action. But then... I was not there when it happened, so I will not pretend to be capable of passing judgment on the situation - nor will I pretend to not understand what could lead one to such an action." The Captain cleared his throat. "We've all made mistakes, mister McTavish; what is important is how we conduct ourselves going forward. So then, with your permission, I would like to wipe the slate clean, to start over. Welcome aboard the Peregrine, Lieutenant McTavish. Go make the Engineering department your own, and enjoy the break before I ask you to work some miracle of technology."

((OOC: any response, if desired))

Drake stood and offered his hand once more. "Dismissed Lieutenant."

Stardate 2365.02.09
USS Peregrine; Captain Drake's Quarters - 0015

"Ambassador Threel, of course," sighed wearily, offering a nod to confirm that he knew to which ambassador his XO was referring.

Tochi was pleased (though not surprised) that Silas, too, had seen something off in Threel's demeanor. Despite the Captain's obvious loathing of political and diplomatic maneuvering, the man's tactically trained eye missed little of it. The Trill expanded on his thoughts, wondering aloud at the disposition of the remainder of the delegations, and musing on Jacobs' mandate and how it impacted the mission.

",I have likely already crossed the line in regards to Captain Jacobs' mandate that we limit our contact with the Ambassadors," he said flatly, "however unavoidable it might have been, and, quite honestly, Silas, we find ourselves wanting to cross it even further. We would like," he smirked, shook his head, and leaned forward a bit, "we need to know what's going on aboard the Coronado. What the read is on the delegates, there, as it were. We fear that, if this dissonance runs deeper than just the Ambassador, this entire mission may be pointless at best."

"The problem with Captain Jacobs' mandate," Silas chuckled grimly, "is that the esteemed Captain is not here to manage it. After all, we can't very well be expected to ignore our guests; as such, we will by necessity have some contact with them. It is our duty to not only conduct them safely to the summit, but to ensure their comfort along the way."

Tochi acknowledged that fact with a silent nod and indulged in another sampling of the brandy as the Captain did the same. Silas lingered in his appreciation of the drink for a moment, and then proceeded to confirm that he, too, had seen many of the same proverbial red-flags flaying around Threel that Tochi had noted.

"Your need to know about the situation aboard the Coronado is noted, Lieutenant," Drake said, fixing Zai with his gaze, "but I wonder how we could accomplish such a thing? While I can justify interacting with the Ambassadors aboard the Peregrine, I can't exactly hail Jacobs and ask if the rest of Threel's contingent seems as disingenuous as he does. I have no means to covertly observe those souls aboard that ship, nor do I have any agents there to do so for me. I share your worries about the success of this mission, but my position is currently rather impotent.

"Hell," Drake grumbled in frustration, setting his snifter down on the desk, "even if I had proof that the rest of the Rytain were all as insincere about this peace process as we fear that Threel is - what, then? It's not as if I can round them up at phaser point and demand that no, they not play lip service only, but instead making a genuine effort toward peace!"

The Captain pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a moment. "I truly despise doubletalk and intrigue, Tochi. If you have any ideas as to how we should proceed in this matter, I would gladly hear them."

"Well, sir," Zai replied from behind a roguish smirk, "our thoughts were to bypass Jacobs altogether. We believe we may have something of a rapport with Commander Farr and thought that we should perhaps contact her as opposed to the Captain." He sipped from the snifter once more and offered up a bit of a shrug; "We're fairly certain that she would be open to an exchange of information, especially since it's the Coronado's mission that would suffer more for all of this. Our mission is accomplished once we successfully deliver the Ambassadors and the Coronado to the Gamera system; their success will be gauged by the summit's outcome."

He set his own snifter aside, then, and regarded Silas. "Given Jacobs' elitist attitude, I have no compunction about plotting a course around him, sir, but we don't want to fly around you. If you tell me to drop the matter, we will; otherwise, our intent is to contact Cmdr Farr first thing in the morning."

Stardate 2365.02.09
USS Peregrine, Captain Drake's Quarters - 0025

"Well, sir," Zai replied from behind a roguish smirk, "our thoughts were to bypass Jacobs altogether. We believe we may have something of a rapport with Commander Farr and thought that we should perhaps contact her as opposed to the Captain." He sipped from the snifter once more and offered up a bit of a shrug; "We're fairly certain that she would be open to an exchange of information, especially since it's the Coronado's mission that would suffer more for all of this. Our mission is accomplished once we successfully deliver the Ambassadors and the Coronado to the Gamera system; their success will be gauged by the summit's outcome."

He set his own snifter aside, then, and regarded Silas. "Given Jacobs' elitist attitude, I have no compunction about plotting a course around him, sir, but we don't want to fly around you. If you tell me to drop the matter, we will; otherwise, our intent is to contact Commander Farr first thing in the morning."

Silas let out a heavy sign in response. Commander Farr had seemed to be far more level-headed and reasonable than Captain Jacobs - but then again, Drake was not at all convinced that many Klingons in the midst of battle lust were not more reasonable than Jacobs.

The Captain's lips drew tight as he answered. "Tochi, I understand your approach here, and certainly agree that you are likely to get more positive of a reaction from Farr than from Jacobs. But tread very lightly - I would not put it past Jacobs to have standing orders that he be copied on all communications from the Peregrine. My initial impression of Commander Farr was positive, but I don't know that I would wager any real money on her not sharing your concerns with Jacobs. If he finds out that we attempted to circumvent him, there will be hell to pay."

Silas took another sip, the snifter now all but empty. "Naturally, I trust your abilities to communicate delicately more than I trust my own, but I would be remiss if I didn't suggest that you may wish to simply inform Commander Farr as to your observations regarding Ambassador Threel, perhaps suggest that she keep an eye out for the same among the rest of the Rytain contingent. You may not want to ask yet for her to actively pass intel back to us, as she has little to gain by doing so - but much to risk by going behind Jacobs' back."

The Captain chuckled again. "You may also want to check the Coronado duty roster before you try any communications. You certainly don't want to be hailing the Commander while she is sharing the bridge with Jacobs - I would think that you would have the most luck if you can catch her alone, off duty."

Drake finished off his brandy and spoke again. "Thank you for coming to me, Tochi. I appreciate you keeping me in the loop. I do so detest these sorts of shenanigans, however."