Stardate 2365.02.19
USS Peregrine; Deck 3, Crew Quarters – 1705

Chirp

“Come in,” Lauren sits up and cradles the padd against her chest in surprise. It’s probably someone for Merida, she thinks.

With a pronounced swish in the relative silence of the crew quarters, the door slides open admitting a tall Andorian woman with a militaristic bearing. Scrambling to her feet, Lauren Crane feels naked in her sweatpants and undershirt, barefoot with her hair in a loose ponytail, messier rather than kept.

“At ease,” Asovil waves the salute away and steps further into the room, alien eyes scanning the room.

“Sir,” Lauren squeaks out while uneasily shifting to a semi-relaxed state.

“I have to apologize,” Lt. Sh’iraolnas jumps right in, her voice level and flat, almost Vulcan.

“Sir?”

“You should have been back to work a number of days ago and I’ve been preoccupied enough that I’ve failed to sign the appropriate permissions,” the Andorian explains flatly. “I’ve remedied that oversight, Mr. Crane. You will return to the labs beginning tomorrow morning and work a double. As per the conditions of your consequence, you’ll be working longer duty shifts for the next little while.”

“Yes, sir,” Lauren nods.

“If you’ll check the duty roster, you’ll find your assignments updated.”

“Yes, sir,” Lauren says.

“Do you have any questions for me, Mr. Crane?”

“No, sir,” Lauren answers.

Like an ice statue, Lauren observes as the science officer abruptly turns and leaves the room. As the door slides shut, the geneticist sinks back to her bed and grips the frame. Clenching her jaw, she barely suppresses the urge to scream. I hate her! She’s ruined my life and she’s so calm about it. Peering about the shared space, Lauren is overcome by the dark cloud of depression and falls back onto her mattress, white-knuckling the Starfleet emblazoned blanket.

Stardate 2365.02.21

USS Peregrine, Bridge - 0407

"Aye sir.” Petty Officer Zhang said camly, keying in the helm controls to evasive maneuver Delta, it was his favorite of the evasive maneuvers.  

The Peregrine made a wide barrel roll to Starboard as the three unfamiliar ships drew closer.

Brok barked, “We’re in the middle of nowhere sir, no systems,” Focusing more intently on the Ops panel, “There does appear to be a rogue planet at 231 mark 045.” Surprise apparent in his face.

“On screen,” Garner requested, “Zhang, head towards that planet, lets get it between us and these ships.”

“Aye sir.” 

“Sir,” T’Darren cut in, “With all due respect, without warp capabilities the advancing ships will be upon us well before we reach the planet.  They appear to be Bandi ships, nothing our shields can’t handle.”

“Then why did you suggest evasive maneuvers?!?!” Garner was exasperated, embarrassed that he had perhaps jumped the proverbial gun.

“Incoming fire.” T’Darren replied without answering the question.

A greensish wash of light impacts the shields as several others fly past the ship.

“Shields at 99%.” T’Darren reported.

“Sir,” Brok chimed in, “I’ve scanned the exterior of the ship and found a device has latched itself to our hull, it was not there when we were in warp.”

A slight pause as Garner looked back and forth between tactical and OPS, “Well?” He addressed the Tellarite, “What is it?”

“Unknown,” Brok continued defensively,”But perhaps it is what is interfering with the warp field generator.”

“Can we get it off?” The Ensign shot back at him.

“Sir, shields at 97%.” The Rigelian interrupted, his facial tattoos all scrunched up. “They have not fired again.” He looked up from TAC, his face a wash of confusion.

“Computer, where the hell is everybody?” Garner said to the air in front of him.

=/\=Adama, Peter is on deck 4, Adler, Lincoln is in his quaters, Akig, Oerrik is in his quarters, Amai,…=/\=

“Computer stop! Where are the senior officers?” Nothing was going right for Garner.

“Shields at 93% sir, at this rate we will have no shields in ninety-three seconds.”

=/\=Commander Drake is in his quarters, Lt. Commander Zai is in their quarters, Lt. Commander Thorson is on deck 8, Lieutenant Tal…=/\=

“Thank you computer.” Garner killed the report, why has nobody contacted the bridge? Where was everybody?  This is not how he envisioned his first time in the chair.

“Davis to bridge,” the engineer’s beard was down to his knees, which danced up by his ears, as his bare feet hopped over the cole he was shoveling into the furnace. “Been monitoring your stations, and looks like Brok is onto something. Shouldn’t be any trouble getting back to warp as soon as we scrape the apparatus off the hull.”

“Shields at 85%.”

“Great!” Finally something was going right for Garner, “Can we beam it off, or depolarize the hull or something?”

“No can do,” Davis replied, “Its linked itself with our warp field, we try to beam it off and it’s going to cause a break.  Nope, someone’s going to have to go out there and get it.” Davis seemed a little too nonplussed for as much as Garner was losing it.

“Shields at 69%.”

Just then the doors to the turbo lift swished open. Garner’s relief was almost palpable, here was a senior officer who knew what they were doing.  Was it Tochi come to fly the ship away, the captain to take command, Tal to blast these guys to the ends of the galaxy?

Stepping out onto the Bridge, LTJG Sh’iroalnas immediately makes her way to the science conn and awaits orders while attempting to pick up on what the situation is with an intent ear.

All the hope he had put in those doors melts from Garner’s face and shoulders as the science officer takes her position.

“Would you like to hail the lead ship sir?” Brok said, breaking Garner from whatever trance he seemed to be in.

“Yes!” The exasperated young Ensign said as he stood from the big chair. “Open a channel”

“Smoppen a Schannel,” The OPS crewman mumbled under his breath as he keyed the console, and nodded to the ensign once the channel was open.

Garner tugged the bottom of his jacket into place, looked at the viewscreen, in the background stars and planetary bodies were diving this way and that as Zhang was still maneuvering evasively, in the upper right hand corner a second screen showed the dark rogue planet, below it in another window was an exterior view of the Peregrine showing the device that had attached itself to the hull, in the upper right in the final window was a view of the three trailing ships.

“Unidentified ship, this is Ensign Bradley Garner of the Peregrine.  You have fired on a federation ship without cause or warning, stand down your weapons and shields and explain your actions or we will be forced to return fire.” He turned and made a gesture to Brok to cut the transmission, then looked at the Tellarite expectantly.

“Shields at 37%.” T’Darrent interrupted.

If Garner could shoot daggers out of his eyes at the Rigelian he would, 

“No response.” Brok informed the Ensign. 

“Can we shoot them?” Garner asked no one in particular as he slumped back into his seat.

“The ships are well out of phaser range at this time, it appears whatever they’ve done to our shields is damage enough.  If I were in their position, I would wait camly, and them beam aboard a raiding party or an explosive device, or possibly beam off the captain or the warp core and have their way with us at their leisure.” The TAC crewman postulated. “We will have no shields in fifteen seconds.”

Garner racked his brain for what to do next.  He felt alone, and if the entire ship was looking at him to what to do next.  This was supposed to be easing into command. This was supposed to be an easy Saturday night.  He hadn’t even had a chance to fly the ship yet, and now it might blow up for all he knew. He racked his brain for something he learned at the academy, or at the ranch, anything that might get him out of this one.  Where was Stormridder now? He needed to cool confidence that seemed to evade him in real life. No ideas were coming to him, what else could go wrong? He asked himself.

In answer to Garner’s unspoken question PO Brok complained, “Also, it appears as if the turbolift is no longer functional.”

Stardate 2365.02.21
USS Peregrine, Bridge - 0411

The ready room hatch hissed open, and Captain Drake strode purposefully onto the bridge, PADD in his left hand.  Casting his gaze at the various tense expressions, Drake frowned.  "Ensign Garner," he asked in an acid tone, "exactly what in the hell are you doing to my ship?"

OOC: any answer...

A glance at the viewscreen caused Silas to gape.  "Are you..." he paused for a moment, "...are you running from Bindi pirates?"

"Shields are down," T'Darrin reported neutrally.  "Sir, they..."

Silas held up a hand.  "Stop."

With a sideways glance at the Ensign, he barked out.  "Computer, end simulation.  Authorization, Drake alpha three-niner."

=/\=Simulation ended. =/\= came the feminine reply. 

The attacking ships vanished from the viewscreen.

"Cancel red alert, " the Captain ordered.  Instantly, the klaxons stopped blaring, and the lighting returned to normal. 

=/\=What in the name of all that is holy is going on up there?=/\= came the angry voice of Chief Davis over the comm.

"Belay that, Chief," replied Drake.  "The situation is under control."

Not waiting for the acid reply that was sure to follow - and feeling the tiniest amount of pity for the engineering personnel that would be within range of the Chief's inevitable tirade - the Captain keyed his commbadge.

"Now hear this, " Silas spoke in a firm tone, "this emergency has been a drill to test our combat readiness.  To put it bluntly, we failed.  Expect to be in touch with your department heads regarding areas of improvement.  Drake out."

"Mister Garner," the Captain spoke, "this was perhaps not the most fair of tests.  The last time that I checked, however, our enemies have little intention of concerning themselves over concepts such as fairness.  While I am aware that you are new to these sorts of responsibilities, the fact is that you do have them, and you must be capable of handling them.

My regards to Commander Zai, and will he please ensure that you spend plenty of time in the holosuites on an appropriate range of simulations to help further your education.

Ah... and please, Mister Garner, come and see me in my Ready Room at oh eight thirty."

OOC: any reply

Drake pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a moment.  "Very well.  Resume our previous heading and speed.  I believe that I will go catch a short nap before I complete these assessments."

Lieutenant Tal wanted drills; I'll be interested to see what she thinks of this.

With that, the Captain spun and strode to the now perfectly functioning turbolift.

Stardate 2365.02.20
U.S.S. Peregrine; Deck 2 - XOs Quarters – 1930

It had been days, possibly weeks, since sleep had come easily for Tochi Zai. Between Silas’ arrest and court-martial, the added workload resultant of his having to assume command of the Peregrine, and, now, the apparently cascading issues affecting the ship’s computer, it had been difficult even to find the time to sleep. Even when he did manage to carve time out of his schedule to get more than the occasional catnap, the Trill’s mind had difficulty quieting itself enough for those brief periods of downtime to be truly restful. Aside from the occasional bourbon at the Aerie or a mug or two of mead while playing cards with Eric, Tochi never sought out any chemical means of relaxation but, given that his lack of sleep had begun to compromise his focus and thought processes, the Peregrine’s XO had visited Sick Bay following his last shift and, following a brief consultation with Dr Reine, had been prescribed a low-dose of anesthizine.

Upon returning to his quarters, the Trill had stripped out his uniform, showered, and settled onto the sofa in his living area with a drink and his mandolin. He had, at one point, considered inviting Asovil to dinner – it felt as if it had been days since the two of them had seen each other aside from across the bridge or briefing room – but knowing that she had been as busy as he, of late, and intently focused on her work, Tochi decided that such an interlude might be better postponed for another, less hectic time. Instead, he dimmed the lights, nursed his bourbon, and eventually found himself plucking out the chords to Blue on the Bay. He smiled as the tune evoked a reminiscence of the time when Dirven wrote the song about an Andorian woman he'd met on Risa. That smile softened and warmed as Dirven’s memories overlapped with Tochi’s and the images of Talla morphed into Asovil… clad in that shimmering, silver bathing suit that so perfectly complimented the blue of her skin… her toes absently tracing shy circles in the white sands of the beach on Temtibi Bay…

So, lovely, Dirven’s voice purred from somewhere behind the music and memories.

She really is, Kasru agreed, Odd that you would picture her on Risa, though. Andorians do prefer colder climes.

Their emotions are colder than their preferred climate, Odia groused. The gravelly grumbling prompted a misplucked not that interrupted the flow of the melody. What is it with you boys and your weakness for Andorian women, anyway? Is it the antennae? Do you grab on to ‘em when you’re…

Shush, old man, Isri’s wizened voice interjected as Tochi struggled to reclaim the fractured chord, We all studied and took to the stars for more than just the stars’ sake, didn’t we? You had a fling with a Barzan woman, yourself didn’t you? And an Eska, if we’re not mistaken…

But I married a Trill in the end, Odia sputtered in retort, and…

“Quiet!” Tochi snapped, setting the mandolin aside in frustration as both melody and memory escaped him. “All of you! Please!”

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, then, until the cacophony of his past lives quieted. Sighing in exhaustion, his hands moved from his eyes to his temples and massaged the spots that dappled the skin, there. For a long moment, he simply sat there, elbows on knees, head cradled in his hands, staring at the carpeting between his bare feet. “We need sleep,” he murmured through a yawn as he forced himself to his feet. “A good eight hours of peaceful, uninterrupted sleep.”

Leaving the mandolin where he’d discarded it on the sofa, Tochi took up his glass, drained the remains of the bourbon from it as he padded toward the bedroom, and returned the empty tumbler to the replicator alcove as he passed. Situating himself on the edge of the bed, he yawned, again, and forced himself to lay back. “Computer,” he called, “lights off…”

The computer chirped in response and the room went dark.

“…Dispense anesthizine prescription; authorization code Zeta Tau 005.” On the far wall, a light flickered on the environmental control panel, and a soft hiss whispered through the room as the medicine was dispersed…

=/\=Anesthizine dispensed; point zero five parts per million,=/\= the computer confirmed =/\=Would you care for some music, Commander?=/\=

…Already succumbing to the sleep inducing agent, Tochi yawned once more, nodded, and mumbled; “Blue on the Bay by Dirven Zai; Instrumental version.” He was asleep before the first bar had played…

Stardate 2251.06.26
The Beach at Temtibi Bay; Risa – 2045

…He hadn’t been planning a concert for such a large crowd when he had arrived at the beach. In fact, when he’d left his room, mandolin in hand, he was hoping for something far more intimate – just the Andorian woman whom had inspired the new song he had completed, truth be told. As it turned out, though, the beach was a bit more crowded than he had expected. Sea turtles were supposed to coming into the bay and onto the beach to lay their eggs around moonrise and, as such, the resort staff had arranged an impromptu watch party for the guests who had gathered to watch the spectacle. So, when the staff saw him show up with his mandolin in hand, they naturally assumed that he’d come to entertain all of the guests as opposed to just the one. He gave thought to refusing the staff’s request, of course, as he hadn’t truly prepared for such an event but, given that his true hope was to impress the lovely Andorian, he gave in to the coaxing and put together a set that he intended to end with the song that he’d written about her.

He began the impromptu concert with some of the more well-known tunes from his catalog, of course, and, being the showman that he was, the farther he got through his set, the more people were drawn from other parts of the beach to enjoy the show. As the crowd grew, he had strolled out onto the arcing trunk of a Sakanar palm that leaned over the beach, utilizing it as a makeshift stage so that he could better see his audience and vice versa. Half a dozen songs later and just minutes before the moon was set to rise above the waters of the bay, he found her face in the crowd…

“Thank you,” he smiled, waving down the crowd’s applause for his rendition of ‘Tenaran Ice’, “Thank you. You’ve been a wonderful audience.” He padded out a bit farther on the palms trunk and turned his gaze to the waves lapping at the beach. “The turtles will be coming into the bay soon, I think,” he announced, his eyes panning back over his gathered audience, “and I know that most of you came here, tonight, for them and not me. If you good people don’t mind, though, I’d like to play you one last song…” He lowered himself into a seated position on the Sakanar, shifted his weight, readied the mandolin, and locked his gaze onto the one set of sapphire eyes amongst the throng that truly mattered to him in the moment. “…I was inspired to write this, on this very beach, just yesterday, ladies and gentlemen, by a glimpse of beauty so magical and pure that it spoke to my very heart and soul. I call it ‘Blue on the Bay’, and I humbly dedicate it to Asovil Sh’iraolnas.”

He strummed out the first few chords, then, pleased that the lapping waves offered such a perfect accompaniment to the building melody. His audience seemed to approve, as well, and he smiled brightly at their reaction to the tunes opening. As he opened his mouth to sing, though, he made the mistake of shifting his weight, again, misjudging his position on the Sakanar’s trunk, and found himself, rather gracelessly slipping from his perch. Then, the slip turned into a fall, his trunks catching on a jutting knuckle of the palm, and ripping as gravity claimed him… “Whoa! Frill!” he exclaimed as he realized he was about to land face down on the white sands…

Stardate 2365.02.21
U.S.S. Peregrine; Deck 2 - XOs Quarters – 0352

“Frill!”

Thud!

Tochi was confused when he found himself with a face full of carpeting as opposed to sand. Even more so when the sounds of lapping waves and the gasps and giggles of his audience distorted into an ear jarring red alert klaxon. “Wha…” he pushed himself up onto hands and knees, blinking against the haze in his vision and trying to reconcile the dream against reality. His bleary gaze swept over his surroundings and registered that he was on the floor of his quarters, “…did we just fall out of the frilling bed?!”

Whoooop! Whooop! Whoop!

The wailing of the alarm and the pulsing red of the ambient lighting in the room, jarred him fully into wakefulness and, a little less so, out of the confusion at finding himself on the floor. He scrambled to his feet, then, and made a dash to his closet… “Computer,” he called, hurriedly puling on his trousers and boots, “Situation report!”

=/\=The Peregrine is under attack, =/\= the ever calm voice of the computer responded, as LCDR Zai grabbed his jacket and sprinted for the hatch, =/\=Three vessels of unknown configuration; likely Bindi pirates. Warp drive off line. Shields at 37 percent… 33 percent…=/\=

“Acknowledged,” the Trill XO returned, curtailing that initial report as he raced down the corridor toward the turbolift, “Who’s on the bridge?”

=/\=Ensign Garner currently has the CONN.=/\=

Frill! That kid is fresh out of the Academy… He skidded to a stop in front of the turbo lift door, finally shrugged into his jacket, and scowled anxiously when the lift refused to open right away.

“Come on!” he spat, veritably smacking the console mounted next to the lift, “Come on!!!”

=/\=Turbolifts are currently inoperable, Commander,=/\= the computer informed him, evoking another string of curses from the XO as he fought against the anesthizine haze that still muddled his thoughts.

He turned and quickly scanned the corridor, trying to determine how exactly he was going to get to the bridge. His gaze settled on a nearby access hatch to the Jeffries Tube and, even as he moved toward it, his scowl etched itself deeper into his face… This is going to take far too long, he thought, even as he wrenched the hatch open… Then, it occurred to him… “Computer; status of Transporter systems?”

=/\=Transporters are functional.=/\=

“Good.” He tapped his comm-badge then. “Lt Commander Zai to any available Transporter tech on Deck 3. Acknowledge!”

=/\=Petty Officer Bardan, here, sir,=/\= came an almost instantaneous reply.

Thank the Ancestors! Tochi sighed. “Bardan,” he returned, “I need you to get to the nearest transporter room, right away. Set us up for a point-to-point from my location to the bridge!”

=/\=Aye, sir! On my way!=/\=

Zai paced a tight circle, muttering anxiously under his breath, as the seconds that passed felt more like long minutes. Finally, though…

=/\=Commander Zai,=/\= Bardan’s voice issued over comms, =/\=I’m in Transporter Room One. Locked on to your location and prepped for a point-to-point to the Bridge at your command.=/\=

…Tochi stopped pacing, nodded, and braced himself for the pending discomfort of transport. “Energize…”

 USS Peregrine, Bridge – 0411

…An instant later, Zai materialized on the bridge, his jacket still open and his eyes blinking rapidly against the combination of the transport process and the lingering effects of the sedative he had taken earlier. He found it strange, though, that the klaxons had stopped and that the bridge wasn’t awash in the throbbing, crimson light of a Red Alert.

What in all the stars??? Are we still dreaming? Tochi rubbed at his eyes, then, let them sweep over the various bridge stations, taking account of who was on post… He very nearly smiled and blushed when he saw Asovil at Sci-1 but managed to suppress both reactions when he saw a displeased Captain Drake addressing a somewhat confused Ensign Garner…

“This was perhaps not the most fair of tests,” Silas was saying by way of rebuking the young ensign, “The last time that I checked, however, our enemies have little intention of concerning themselves over concepts such as fairness.  While I am aware that you are new to these sorts of responsibilities, the fact is that you do have them, and you must be capable of handling them.”

Lt Commander Zai had managed to fasten his jacket, at this point, and, while keeping an ear on the dressing down, made his way to the XOs console where he queued up a report query on the “pirate attack” that he had now come to understand had been a simulation.

“My regards to Commander Zai,” Silas continued as Tochi cycled past the report query and brought up a curriculum of possible training simulations, “and will he please ensure that you spend plenty of time in the holosuites on an appropriate range of simulations to help further your education.”

“Of course, Captain,” Tochi called over his shoulder, “Our apologies for not having done so, already.”

“Ah… and please, Mister Garner,” the Captain concluded, “come and see me in my Ready Room at oh eight thirty.”

((OOC: Garner’s reply to Drake, here.))

Commander Zai stood, hands clasped behind his back, and watched as Captain Drake ordered the Peregrine back on course before, with evidence of no small amount of exasperation on his face, taking his leave of the bridge. Tochi offered nothing more than a short nod as Silas passed by and disappeared into the now functioning turbolift. As the door whooshed closed behind the Captain, Zai offered a slow shake of his head to no one in particular.

“Well,” the Trill sighed as he strode toward the Command Chair and Ens Garner, “that was… exhilarating.” He drew to a stop beside Garner and, resting a cool hand on the sandy-haired ensign’s shoulder, said; “It seems you’ve had enough excitement for one shift, Bradley. Why don’t you go get a cup of coffee? We’ll handle the rest of Gamma watch for you.”

((OOC: Assuming an acknowledgement of some sort.))

“Very well, Ensign,” Tochi nodded as Garner prepared to take his leave, “and remember; the art of victory is learned in defeat, yes? We look forward to your report on this matter.”

As a somewhat hang-dog version of Ensign Bradley Garner ambled off the Peregrin’s bridge, Tochi stifled a sigh and settled himself into the Big Chair. “Mr Zhang,” he called to the Petty Officer manning the helm, “Resume our course to the Trevil system, if you please. Warp five.”

“Aye, sir,” PO2 Zhang confirmed, “Bringing us about.”

“Mr T’Darin,” Tochi called to the Rigelian manning TAC, “Compile a tactical analysis of the simulation for us, if you would, and send it to my terminal.”

“Aye, Commander.”

“Mr Brok,” Zai addressed OPS, now, “a damage and casualty report, from you, please.”

“Of course, Commander Zai.”

“Thank you,” the Trill returned, essentially addressing the entirety of the bridge crew. He eased himself back into the chair, then, and watched the flow of the starscape on the viewscreen as PO Zhang brought the Peregrine back to her original heading, and sighed softly as those same stars expanded into brilliant steaks of light when they jumped to warp.

Only once they were underway, again, did the Trill dare turn his eyes to Asovil and, when he did, he found it very difficult not to imagine her the way he’d last seen her in his dream… and impossible not to keep the smile that the thought evoked from playing on his lips. “Good morning, Lieutenant,” he said when her gaze, at last met his, “We thought you were supposed to be off, today…”

Stardate 2365.02.21
U.S.S. Peregrine; Deck 1 - Bridge – 0411

Analytical mind already processing the potential dangers in the area when she arrived on the Bridge, Asovil absently registered all present before stationing herself at SCI1. Glancing at the viewscreen the battle immediately sets her about drawing in readings of the ship hull, polarization levels, gravitational readings on exterior decks, life support systems chemical balance reports… a litany of additional data points shared with other departments but wholly within her purview as the Science Officer to monitor. Reports flow in as well from her staff. 

Dalia is in the main lab with Lauren Crane. Gaultier, Prudnikov, and Scheuermann are all in the second lab working to secure all of the experiments against potential dangers. Her team in position, Lt. Sh’iraolnas’ fingers fly across the console working to stabilize the polarization fields. Perhaps doing so will help keep the pirates from being able to penetrate the hull long enough for the tactical team to come up with an appropriate response.

Star Fleet is always slower to return fire, she mentally complains, recalling times in the Imperial Academy where drills had required the tactical team to return fire within seconds of the first volley. 

“Would you like to hail the lead ship, sir?” Brok asks.

“Yes!” The exasperated young Ensign declares. “Open a channel.”

“Smoppen a Schannel,” the OPS crewman mumbles under his breath.

“Unidentified ship, this is Ensign Bradley Garner of the Peregrine. You have fired on a Federation ship without cause or warning, stand down your weapons and shields and explain your actions or we will be forced to return fire.” 

“Shields at 37%.” T’Darrent interrupts.

“No response,” Brok reports. 

“Can we shoot them?” Garner asks. 

Can we shoot them? Asovil’s antennae stand straight up on the top of her head and her shaped eyebrows climb as her eyes widen. Of course, we can shoot them! 

“The ships are well out of phaser range at this time, it appears whatever they’ve done to our shields is damage enough. If I were in their position, I would wait calmly, and then beam aboard a raiding party or an explosive device, or possibly beam off the captain or the warp core and have their way with us at their leisure.” The TAC crewman postulated. “We will have no shields in fifteen seconds.”

Asovil does turn her head to glance at the befuddled young officer. Fifteen seconds… make a decision!

PO Brok complains, “Also, it appears as if the turbolift is no longer functional.”

The ready room hatch hisses open, and Captain Drake strides purposefully onto the bridge, PADD in his left hand. Finally! Asovil sighs in exasperation and looks to the captain for orders. Casting his gaze at the various tense expressions, Drake frowns.

"Ensign Garner," he asks in an acid tone, "exactly what in the hell are you doing to my ship?"

(OOC: any answer&hellip

A glance at the viewscreen causes Silas to gape. "Are you..." he pauses for a moment, "...are you running from Bindi pirates?"

Yes, and not firing back! Lt. Sh’iraolnas silently comments, her antennae now bent forward with intensity.

"Shields are down," T'Darrin reports neutrally. "Sir, they..."

Silas held up a hand. "Stop."

With a sideways glance at the Ensign, the Captain barks out. "Computer, end simulation.  Authorization, Drake alpha three-niner."

=/\=Simulation ended. =/\= comes the feminine reply. The attacking ships vanished from the viewscreen. By the Frozen gods, wha—realization dawns and the Andorian’s eyes narrow to mere slits, antennas curl back, and lips press together. Well done, Captain. Well done, indeed.

"Cancel red alert, " the Captain orders. Instantly, the klaxons stopped blaring, and the lighting returned to normal.  

=/\=What in the name of all that is holy is going on up there?=/\= The angry voice of Chief Davis rails over the comm.

"Belay that, Chief," replies Drake. "The situation is under control."

Not waiting for the acid reply that is sure to follow—and feeling the tiniest amount of pity for the engineering personnel that are within range of the Chief's inevitable tirade—the Captain keys his commbadge.

"Now hear this," Silas speaks in a firm tone, "this emergency has been a drill to test our combat readiness. To put it bluntly, we failed. Expect to be in touch with your department heads regarding areas of improvement. Drake out."

Zai materializes on the Bridge, his jacket still open and his eyes blinking rapidly. Despite knowing that the whole battle was just a drill, the sudden appearance of the XO causes personnel—including Asovil—to tense, ready to spring into action. Marking the confusion on the man’s spotted face, the Andorian Scientist’s antennae twitch.

"Mister Garner," the Captain says, "this was perhaps not the most fair of tests. The last time that I checked, however, our enemies have little intention of concerning themselves over concepts such as fairness. While I am aware that you are new to these sorts of responsibilities, the fact is that you do have them, and you must be capable of handling them. 

Lt. Commander Zai manages to fasten his jacket and, while keeping an ear on the dressing down, makes his way to the XOs console. Still standing at attention from the Captain’s arrival, Asovil follows his progress with her still-narrowed eyes.

“My regards to Commander Zai, and will he please ensure that you spend plenty of time in the holosuites on an appropriate range of simulations to help further your education.

“Of course, Captain,” Tochi calls over his shoulder, “Our apologies for not having done so, already.”

“Ah... and please, Mister Garner, come and see me in my Ready Room at oh eight-thirty."

(OOC: any reply...)

Drake pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes for a moment. "Very well. Resume our previous heading and speed. I believe that I will go catch a short nap before I complete these assessments."

Lieutenant Tal wanted drills; I'll be interested to see what she thinks of this. With that, the Captain spins and strides to the now perfectly functioning turbolift.

Commander Zai stands, hands clasped behind his back, and watches as Captain Drake orders the Peregrine back on course before, with evidence of no small amount of exasperation on his face, taking his leave of the bridge. Tochi offers nothing more than a short nod as Silas passes by and disappears into the now functioning turbolift. As the door whooshes closed behind the Captain, Zai offers a slow shake of his head to no one in particular.

“Well,” the Trill sighs as he strides toward the Command Chair and Ens Garner, “that was… exhilarating.” He draws to a stop beside Garner and, resting a cool hand on the sandy-haired ensign’s shoulder, says; “It seems you’ve had enough excitement for one shift, Bradley. Why don’t you go get a cup of coffee? We’ll handle the rest of Gamma watch for you.”

((OOC: Assuming an acknowledgment of some sort.))

“Very well, Ensign,” Tochi nods as Garner prepares to take his leave, “and remember; the art of victory is learned in defeat, yes? We look forward to your report on this matter.”

As a somewhat hang-dog version of Ensign Bradley Garner ambles off the Peregrin’s bridge, Tochi stifles a sigh and settles himself into the Big Chair. “Mister Zhang,” he calls to the Petty Officer manning the helm, “Resume our course to the Trevil system, if you please. Warp five.”

“Aye, sir,” PO2 Zhang confirms, “Bringing us about.”

“Mister T’Darin,” Tochi calls to the Rigellian manning TAC, “Compile a tactical analysis of the simulation for us, if you would, and send it to my terminal.”

“Aye, Commander.”

“Mister Brok,” Zai addressed OPS, now, “a damage and casualty report, from you, please.”

“Of course, Commander Zai.”

“Thank you,” the Trill returns, essentially addressing the entirety of the bridge crew. He eases himself back into the chair, then, and watches the flow of the starscape on the viewscreen as PO Zhang brings the Peregrine back to her original heading, and sighs softly as those same stars expand into brilliant streaks of light when they jump to warp.

Only once they are underway, again, did the Trill dare turn his eyes to Asovil. Once the captain had left the bridge, the science officer had returned to her console. The hour is early and her official shift doesn’t begin for quite a while but due to her Andorian sleep habits, she was already awake—By the gods! The mess… Keying the proper report into her console, she notifies Ops that her quarters need to be cleaned and then sends orders to her team relieving them from battle stations. Still unsure of whether she wants to return to her quarters and continue the work on her paper or just begin her shift early, Asovil glances over her shoulder and meets the Trill’s cheerful eyes.

“Good morning, Lieutenant,” he says as her gaze, at last, meets his, “We thought you were supposed to be off, today…”

Blinking, antennaes sinking against her white hair with uncertainty, Asovil’s lips part just a bit. What day is it? Oh, I’ve made a fool of myself again! Wait, is it what the humans call Sunday or is it Saturday? Oh, gods! He’s staring. Quick, say something.

“I am, sir,” she rushes. “I answered the alarms. I’ll be returning to my quarters now… with your permission, of course.”

Now fully facing the XO, Asovil tugs at the bottom of her uniform shirt awaiting permission to escape the suddenly awkward situation.

Stardate 2365.02.21
U.S.S. Peregrine; Deck 1 - Bridge – 0423

Stardate 2365.02.21
U.S.S. Peregrine; Deck 1 - Bridge – 0423

“Good morning, Lieutenant,” Tochi smiled as Asovil glanced over her shoulder, her eyes meeting his, “We thought you were supposed to be off, today.”

The Andorian woman blinked, her antennae drooping faintly as an ambiguous expression flitted, briefly over her fine features. “I am, sir,” she hurriedly replied just as her hesitation evoked a faintly raised brow from Zai, “I answered the alarms. I’ll be returning to my quarters now… with your permission, of course.”

She had tugged (somewhat nervously it seemed) at the hem of her uniform shirt as she turned to fully face him and, for whatever reason, that subtle action evoked a surreal remembrance of finding her face amongst a throng on a Risan beach; her azure eyes gathering the moonlight, lips slightly parted, an expression on her face that was enticingly prim and pert all at once. In the wash of that callback to his dream, Tochi realized that it was he, this time, who had hesitated in responding. He cleared his throat as he blinked away the thought, then offered a nod.

 “As you will, Lieutenant,” he grinned in reply, “but, if there was something you were working on, here, please, don’t feel as if we’re chasing you off the Bridge, or that you’d be a distraction should you choose to stay…”  

Or, at least, not too much of a distraction, he silently appended, still unable to fully shake the dreamy images of her from his waking mind.

((OOC: Completely up to Asovil as to whether she takes her leave, here, of course. Her choice determines what comes next.))

Stardate 2365.02.19 (Friday)

USS Peregrine, Outside the Chief Science Officers Quarters - 1943

Thump! Thump! Thump!

"Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas, may I enter?" Nyle requested through the room's intercom.

(OOC: Assuming an affirmative response.)

"Thank you." 

With a soft whir, the doors slid open and Nyle stepped inside. He'd been practicing his smile outside the door, and when he came face to face with the Chief Science Officer he parted his lips and bared his teeth in his best smile. "I don't believe we've formally met, but I'm Nyle, as I'm sure you know. Per the Captain's orders, I am here to install the monitor. If I may?"

(OOC: Assuming an affirmative response.)

"Excellent. It won't take more than a moment."

Striding purposefully to Asovil's computer, Nyle logged in using his administrator credentials. Tapping open the Command Window, he began to enter a series of commands. "Tell me, Lieutenant, have you noticed any other changes to your system? Anything else that goes missing, or seems to be out of place?"

(OOC: Any response)

"I see. What I'm going to be installing is a Circumspect Surveillance Sub-routine. It should go unnoticed unless someone digs deep into the basic programming. It will record any logins, login attempts, and any keystrokes or operations that are made on your computer as well as the address of the user. In addition, I will be installing some protective software. It will attempt to kill any viruses as well as block any unauthorized access, as such I will need you to enter a passcode that will allow you to bypass it."

Entering a few more lines of code, Nyle stood up gesturing to the screen. "If you would now, please."

As Asovil entered her passcode, Nyle diverted his eyes. He was actually a little proud of this particular program. It was designed to do what he had explained, but that was only a small part of it. The second part and the part that he hoped would be much more effective in catching this spy,  was a counteroffensive. The software would be quite obvious to anyone who was accessing Asovils computer using any back doors and would appear quite easy to bypass or breakthrough. However, if someone attempted to do either of these things it would activate a probe that would attempt to lock the system they were using as well as download any information it could get its hands on. 

"Excellent," Nyle said as Asovil drew away from the computer. After entering a few more lines of code, Nyle saved the programs and set them to install. Straightening back up, Nyle turned to face Asovil. "That should do it. Your computer will be ready for use in a couple of minutes."

Thinking a smile wouldn't go amiss, Nyle offered one before walking towards the door. He paused before leaving, however, and turned to face Asovil again. "Ah, and while I'm here. I am making a sweep of every department. Is there anything the Science Department needs or desires?"

(OOC: Any response)

"And what about the department head herself?" Nyle asked, inclining his head slightly towards Asovil.

(OOC: Any response)

"Excellent. Have a good night, Lieutenant."

Having made his farewell, Nyle turned and left the room.

Stardate 2365.02.20 (Saturday)

USS Peregrine, Chief Operations Officer Quarters - 0430

A soft tinkle broke the silence of Nyles bunkroom and with it his slumber. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, the Chief Operations Officer sat up in bed, resting his bare feet on the cool tiles of his bunk room deck. Blinking the last of the sleep from his eyes, Nyle surveyed his living quarters. 

It was more room than Nyle knew what to do with, what with the conjoined head and lounge area. His few possessions were stowed neatly, and all the furniture had been neatly arranged against the walls, leaving a fair bit of empty space.  

“Computer, silence.”

At the command, the soft tinkle stopped leaving a pleasant quiet in the room. Standing from his bed, Nyle stretched, reaching his hands high towards the ceiling before reaching down to touch his toes. From there he settled into Standing Crossroads, the resting stance of the Tohe’Marain. 

He sat there for a moment, holding his hands out in front of him and keeping his elbows close to his torso. Standing Crossroads came as naturally as standing to him, as Nyle had been a practitioner of Tohe’Marain since his third year in the Academy. Not the Starfleet Academy -- which he had been shocked to learn did not teach the Daa’Vit martial art -- but one of the many Academies that sprawled across Daa’V where the young were taught how to be good Daa’Vit citizens. Briefly, distant memories of corporal punishment and a scheming, almost cruel student body seeped into Nyle’s mind. He dispelled them without regret. The Daa’Vit Academy for Social Education had taught Nyle to be tough, calculating, and reserved, but in Starfleet he had learned a set of entirely more valuable skills. 

Slowly, with practiced precision, Nyle stepped forward. As his foot hit the ground he changed forms, adopting Piercing Thorn. He held the pose for a couple of moments before taking another step, smoothly dropping into a crouch and rolling forward coming back up on his feet in Crashing Boulder. Step after step, Nyle moved in a circle around the space he had created in his room and with each step, Nyle changed forms. All thoughts faded from his mind as he focused purely on Tohe’Marain, reveling in the exertion and slowly building up a sweat. 

With a final step, Nyle returned to Standing Crossroads, breathing a little heavier than normal. Dropping the stance, Nyle wiped his brow.

“Computer, what is the time?”

=/\=0521=/\=

Turning his thoughts towards the day before him he rolled his shoulders and made his way to the sonic shower in his room. Prior to stepping in, however, he spoke up.

“Computer, send a message to Crewman Pierce, Crewman Suders, and Petty Officer Finnley. Inform them to report to my office at 0800. I’d also like a message sent to Lieutenant Moriden for a meeting at the same location at 0730. Also, have Petty Officer Wu report to my office at 0900.”

=/\=Messages sent.=/\= came the soft reply.

With that done, Nyle set about his morning ablutions.

Stardate 2365.02.20 (Saturday)

USS Peregrine, Chief Operations Officer Office - 0749

Lieutenant Reine,

At your earliest convenience, I would appreciate a meeting with you to discuss any supply or requisitions that Supply might be able to assist with. 

Cordially,

LT Nyle, Chief Operations Officer.

Reading over the message, Nyle nodded to himself and hit send. Three other messages of similar content were already sent, one to each department head albeit Lieutenant Asovil who had already informed him of her needs.

Leaning back in his chair, Nyle looked at his Operations Officer.

“Do you have anything you’d like to add, Lieutenant?”

Shaking her head, Lieutenant Moriden looked up from the PADD that she held in her hand. “No sir,” she replied, primly.

“Excellent.”

For a couple of minutes, Nyle and Lieutenant Moriden sat in silence. Each peering intently at their own respective PADDs. Nyle was looking over the supply reports. The COO before him had done a good job, and they seemed to be well-stocked, including a decent order of fresh food-stuffs. 

“With our current stock, how long would you say we’d be able to maintain?” Nyle asked, looking up from his PADD again.

“It depends on the frequency you wish to operate.” came the stately reply.

“I was thinking weekly.”

“Then perhaps two months.”

“I see.”

Another couple of minutes of silence pervaded the room, only broken by a knock on the door.

“Enter,” Nyle ordered 

With the woosh, the hydraulic doors wooshed open and revealed Nyles first appointment. Petty Officer Finnley, Crewman Juders, and Crewman Pierce all entered, and, at Nyles direction, took seats. 

“Excellent,” Nyle started, peering at each of them in turn and gave them his best smile. As their faces all took on a slightly apprehensive look, the COO continued. “You three make up the catering portion of the Ops Department, as I understand it.” 

“Aye, that is correct, sir.” Petty Officer Finnley confirmed, brushing a stray strand of hair off of her face.

“Excellent, how do you all usually occupy your time?”

“Well, sir,” Finnley replied, after a quick glance at her fellow caterers. “We all have shifts behind the bar. People can get their drinks from a replicator, sure, but nothin’ beats gettin’ served by an honest t’ god bartender. Keeps the spirits up, yeah?”

“Yes, I think it does.” Smiling again, Nyle tapped something on his PADD and turned it around to show the Catering Specialist.  “Hopefully this will ‘keep the spirits up’ as well.”

Her face more curious than apprehensive now, Petty Officer Finnley reached out and took the PADD. She nodded slightly as she read it, before handing it off to Pierce.

“The former Chief Operations Officer was kind enough to ensure we had were stocked with actual fresh foodstuffs, if you were not aware. I think a weekly… ‘Fresh Food Night’ might be worth pursuing, after all, there is only so much one can do with a replicator.” Looking at each of their faces, Nyle nodded. “I understand you’re a bit of a culinary artist, Petty Officer, so show me what exactly you can do, starting next Wednesday night. I’d like a menu drawn up and submitted to Lieutenant Moriden before then. Are there any questions?”

There were, and for the next forty-five minutes Nyle and Moriden explained the logistics, expectations, and specifics of what they had in mind. Nyle ventured to think that they looked a little excited as they filtered out of his office, Finnley already explaining exactly what she had in mind for the first meal.

“Ah, it is almost time for Petty Officer Wu,” Nyle thought, checking his PADD for the time. Almost as if his thought summoned her, Wu knocked on the frame of the door that the Catering team just vacated. 

“Lieutenant Nyle, sir?”

“Excellent, Petty Officer Wu. Have a seat and tell me, what is the status of the work on the computer?”

“Not going well, sir.” Wu replied, tugging on the collar of her yellow marked uniform a little sheepishly. “There have been two more incidents of the computer answering unasked questions since your last experience, and diagnostics have proven unfruitful.”

“I see.” Leaning forward on his desk, Nyle tapped through the report that the Computer Specialist had sent the night before. “What is your plan to move forward, Petty Officer?”

“Well sir, I intend to…”

Stardate 2365.02.21

U.S.S. Peregrine; Deck 2 - XOs Quarters – 0352

With a groan, Nyle picked himself off of his bunk room deck, klaxons blaring in his ears. His head ached, and not only due to the sudden blow it had received as he had been unceremoniously cast from his bunk. He had been up into the ungodly hours of the night, pouring over reports and diagnostics that Petty Officer Wu had been sending him throughout the day previously. The problem still stumped him, and he had gone to bed internally cursing it and with a sore head. But now there were more pressing matters to attend to.

“Computer, what’s going on?” Nyle asked, stumbling to his feet and starting to don a uniform.

=/\=Three unknown vessels have confronted the Peregrine, and warp engines are offline.=/\=

Anger and fear briefly reared up inside Nyle, but he quickly wrest his emotions under control. Keying the door open, Nyle rushed from his room, brushing past other members of the crew heading towards their stations as he rushed for the nearest Turbolift to the bridge.

“Computer, order all Ops personnel to get on station and stand by for damage control.” He ordered as he ran, not bothering to listen for a confirmation. Sliding to a halt in front of the turbolift door, he jammed his finger into the control panel. Nothing happened. No change on the control panel. Again, he jammed his finger on the control panel and again, no change. Grimacing, Nyle turned, tapping his comm badge.

=/\=Nyle to Warren, Turbolifts are down. Coordinate with Juarez. Fix it!=/\=

=/\=Aye aye, sir.=/\= 

“Jefferies tubes.” Nyle thought, “I need a Jefferies tube!” 

Cursing his lack of knowledge of the vessels layout, Nyle cast his eyes about looking for some sort of wall panel that would indicate the entrance to a Jefferies tube. It took a full minute of searching the walls before Nyle realized just how ridiculous he was being. 

“Computer, show me to the bridge using the nearest Jefferies tube.”

Lights sprang up on the wall beside him, pulsing in a direction back towards the turbolift. Following the lights, Nyle soon found himself in front of one of the panels he was looking for. Twisting the handle inlaid into the wall, the panel covering the entrance popped off, clattering to the ground. Crouching down, Nyle clambered through the hole. 

Jefferies tubes were not a quick, nor comfortable method of transportation and three minutes into his scuttle, he was already out of breath, his back complaining. Still, Nyle pressed forward. For another couple of minutes, Nyle scrambled panting with every step and starting to sweat through his uniform.

Nyle was halfway up a ladder to the first deck when the klaxons stopped. Climbing over the top of the ladder, Nyle began to move forward making his way to the bridge when his commbadge chirped.

=/\=Now hear this,=/\= That was the captain's voice! =/\=this emergency has been a drill to test our combat readiness.  To put it bluntly, we failed. Expect to be in touch with your department heads regarding areas of improvement. Drake out.=/\=

Slowing down his frantic scramble to a trot, and then filtering that down to a full stop, Nyle sat down in the cramped Jefferies tube. For a moment, he just sat there letting that information sink in and feeling the adrenaline slowly leave his body. 

Casting his head back Nyle let out a deep, genuine laugh. A laugh so deep that it shook his body. What a magnificent joke! Shaking with laughter, Nyle got back up into a crouch and began to make his way out of the Jefferies tube and to the bridge, laughing all the way.

He knew that it wasn’t intended to be a joke, and was actually an unfortunate display of crew readiness, but still… To get everyone into such a panic, it was just too amusing for it to not also be a joke. 

Nyle was still chuckling to himself when he entered the bridge, just to see Ensign Garner enter the now functioning turbolift and exit the bridge. Glancing over to the CO’s chair Nyle registered that the XO currently occupied it and was trading a couple of words with Lieutenant Asovil. 

Crossing the bridge -- offering a salute to Commander Zai in passing -- Nyle approached Petty Officer Brok at the Ops Station. 

“Petty Officer Brok, I’d like a report detailing all sensor readings that were displayed. As a department, we need to be able to determine what type of vessel we are up against. Tomorrow morning, after you get off watch, we will hold a meeting with all bridge qualified personnel in this department to conduct some training.” Offering a smile, Nyle continued. “This isn’t a reprimand. This training is just as much for myself as everyone else.” 

Nodding, Nyle turned to exit the bridge. He wouldn’t be getting any more sleep this night. He needed to prepare some training. 

Stardate 2365.02.21
USS Peregrine, Crew Quarters, Deck 3 - 0354


The deck pitched violently, very nearly throwing Marcel to the floor.  As he blinked sleep away, he heard Stephen cursing from the other bedroom.  Momentarily, the red alert klaxon began to sound and the emergency lights flashed, so the systems specialist shook the cobwebs away and began to hurriedly pull on a uniform. 

He nearly ran directly into his friend as he stepped into the common area.  "Any idea what's going on?" Marcel asked. 

Stephen shook his head.   "No clue, but Clint and I are supposed to get to battle stations... it can't be good."  As if summoned by the mention of the other Security crewman who shared their quarters, crewman Myers stuck his head out of his bedroom, with the early blossom of a nice black eye already manifesting on his face. 

A tense, wordless look passed among the three men, and they hurried down the corridor towards thier stations.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

USS Peregrine, Turbolift, Deck 3 - 0409

"I understand, SS2," Juarez stated through gritted teeth.  "I agree that we need the turbolifts to be functional.  I'm just telling you - the diagnostics don't give me any failure code!  Power throughput seems fine, mechanical systems report nominal.  The damned thing just won't work!"

=/\=Copy that, Juarez.  I'm seeing the same thing down here. =/\= came the response.  =/\=It doesn't make any sense, but Lieutenant Nyle isn't going to accept "there is nothing wrong" as an answer - and you can bet that the Captain will be even less inclined to do so.  =/\=

Marcel shook his head.  He'd had precious little direct contact with the Peregrine's CO, but the man's reputation preceeded him.  The last thing he wanted was an angry Captain standing over his shoulder while he stammered that the lifts should work.

"Okay, SS2.  The next step has to be physical inspection; I'm making my way to the manual access now."

=/\= Understood, keep me posted. =/\= came the reply.  =/\= Warren out. =/\=

Grumbling, Marcel grabbed his tool belt and hurried to the access hatch.  He hated turbolift shafts, but there was nothing to do for it.  Just as he got the hatch open, the klaxons ceased and the lighting returned to normal.  Then, the Captain addressed the ship over the intercom.  Dumbfounded, adrenaline still rushing through his system, Pretty Officer Juarez simply leaned against the bulkhead and stared for a moment.  When the turbolift hatch hissed open, he found himself chuckling ruefully. 

Stardate 2365.02.21 (Sunday)
U.S.S. Peregrine; Deck 1 - Bridge – 0423

“Good morning, Lieutenant,” he says as her gaze, at last, meets his, “We thought you were supposed to be off, today…”

Blinking, antennas sinking against her white hair with uncertainty, Asovil’s lips part just a bit. What day is it? Oh, I’ve made a fool of myself again! Wait, is it what the humans call Sunday or is it Saturday? Oh, gods! He’s staring. Quick, say something.

“I am, sir,” she rushes. “I answered the alarms. I’ll be returning to my quarters now… with your permission, of course.”

Now fully facing the XO, Asovil tugs at the bottom of her uniform shirt awaiting permission to escape the suddenly awkward situation. There’s an overly long pause as the Trill stares at her. By the Frost of Uzaveh, what’s wrong with me? Why is he staring? Resisting the urge to adjust her hair and straighten her uniform again, muscles in her jaw tensing and releasing, tensing and releasing, the Andorian swallows, her frow furrowing just a bit with confusion. He clears his throat as he blinks and offers a nod.

“As you will, Lieutenant,” he grins in reply, “but, if there was something you were working on, here, please, don’t feel as if we’re chasing you off the Bridge, or that you’d be a distraction should you choose to stay...”

Why is he grinning like that? “Thank you, sir,” she manages if a little rushed. “I have work to do back at my quarters. You know what they say; Time cannot be taught new tricks.” Why does he make me feel so… so… oh, I don’t know!

Offering the appropriate salute, Asovil presses her lips together and turns on her right heel to make her way to the turbolift she’d exited but minutes before. Eyes flitting to those whose stations her gaze passes over as she turns from the befuddling XO, color rushes to her cheeks shading them a light violet.

Finally enveloped by the lift’s shell, secure behind the closed doors, Asovil draws in a deep breath, holds it for a second with her eyes closed, and then releases it slowly. “I’ve got to hold it together around him,” she mutters feeling the confusion and butterflies recede. “People are going to start talking.”

Still silently berating herself for her unbecoming behavior on the Bridge, the science officer returns to her quarters and steps inside with relief. The spilled Katheka hasn’t been cleaned up yet but considering the mess that this drill produced amongst the various stations, she can’t complain.

“Computer,” she intones flatly. “What day of the week is it?”

=/\= Sunday. =/\=

Toshi was right! I do have the day off.

“Lieutenant Sh’iraolnas to Ensign Maize.” Stepping over the wet carpet, Asovil makes her way to her desk.

=/\= Ensign Maize, here. =/\=

“When you begin your shift today, please file a report on the department’s drill scores. That is all.”

=/\= Aye, sir. =/\=

Settling into her chair, Asovil picks up the pencil and opens her notebook, staring at the Andorian print language for a moment without seeing it. After what seems like entirely too long to allow her active mind to wander, she begins chewing on the inside of her bottom lip, scrunches up her nose as she squints at the paper, and draws in another deep breath. 

“You’re not going to write yourself, are you,” she comments and rolls her head around a couple of times. “Fine. I suppose I’ll get to work.”

Stardate 2365.02.21 (Sunday)
U.S.S. Peregrine; Deck 1 - Bridge – 0435

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stardate 2365.02.19 (Friday)
USS Peregrine, Outside the Chief Science Officers Quarters - 1943

Thump! Thump! Thump!

"Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas, may I enter?" An unfamiliar voice requests through the room's intercom.

Looking up from the video message she’s experiencing, Asovil frowns at the door, her antenna immediately moving forward, bending low over her white hair.

“Computer, who’s at my door?” the Andorian demands.

=/\= Chief Operations Officer, Lieutenant Nyle. =/\=

Why is—oh! He must be here about the… her thoughts trail off as she rolls into a sitting position on the edge of her bed and sets the padd aside. Walking barefoot to the door, she considers her appearance for a moment. Gray loose-fitting exercise pants and a dark blue tank top is not exactly how she would prefer to be dressed when interacting with a new person, but she’s off duty and had planned on spending the rest of the evening catching up on personal communications.

Thumbing the button to open the door, Asovil looks up at the angular greenish face of the Daa’Vit. “You may.”

"Thank you." 

Nyle steps inside as Asovil moves to allow him entrance. His lips part into a grimace and he bares his teeth. "I don't believe we've formally met, but I'm Nyle, as I'm sure you know. Per the Captain's orders, I am here to install the monitor. If I may?"

Antenna pulling back a little, the Andorian woman tilts her head to the side and narrows her eyes. “Proceed,” she allows, using her right hand to unnecessarily indicate the location of the computer.

"Excellent. It won't take more than a moment."

Striding purposefully to Asovil's computer, Nyle logs in using his administrator credentials. Typing while he talks, Nyle presents his host with a question. "Tell me, Lieutenant, have you noticed any other changes to your system? Anything else that goes missing, or seems to be out of place?"

“No,” she replies flatly, still standing by the door, arms folded across her breasts as she watches him intently. “Nothing more.”

"I see. What I'm going to be installing is a Circumspect Surveillance Sub-routine. It should go unnoticed unless someone digs deep into the basic programming. It will record any logins, login attempts, and any keystrokes or operations that are made on your computer as well as the address of the user. In addition, I will be installing some protective software. It will attempt to kill any viruses as well as block any unauthorized access, as such I will need you to enter a passcode that will allow you to bypass it."

Entering a few more lines of code, Nyle stands up gesturing to the screen. "If you would now, please."

Quickly closing the short distance between them, Asovil bends and types a newly concocted password while Nyle diverts his eyes.

"Excellent," Nyle says as the science officer draws away from the computer. 

Stepping back, Asovil watches the operations officer enter a few more lines of code. Looking over his shoulder, she recognizes the next commands as Nyle saves the programs and sets them to install. Straightening back up, Nyle turns to face the Andorian woman. "That should do it. Your computer will be ready for use in a couple of minutes."

“Thank you.”

Nyle’s face contorts again and he walks towards the door, pausing before leaving, however, and turning to face Asovil again. "Ah, and while I'm here. I am making a sweep of every department. Is there anything the Science Department needs or desires?"

“Why do you do that?” Asovil asks point-blank. “That face that you make. Is it a method of communicating for your species? To look fierce, I mean?” Momentarily closing her eyes and shaking her head just slightly, the Andorian clears her mind of the questions and places her hands on her hips, resting her weight on her left foot. “I’m sorry. You are the first of your kind that I’ve met and I’m afraid I don’t know the customs of your people. I do not mean to be offensive.”

(OOC: Any reply&hellip

Returning to the question, Lt. Sh’iraolnas provides an answer. “I would appreciate it if you’d install that software on all of the computers in the Labs and my office.”

"And what about the department head herself?" Nyle asks, inclining his head slightly towards Asovil.

“Aside from fixing the issues with the ship’s computer offering unasked for information,” antenna perk up and sway back and forth a little, “I cannot think of anything at this time.”

"Excellent. Have a good night, Lieutenant."

“And you as well, Lieutenant Nyle.”

Having made his farewell, Nyle turns and leaves the room. After the door closes, Asovil relaxes her shoulders and moves back to the bed. Giving the computer a hard stare, she settles back onto the mattress and absently picks up her padd. Crystalline orbs attempting to burn holes into the machine Nyle had just worked on, the Andorian woman whispers, “Who are you?”

OOC: I am assuming that Ensign Garner will report to the Ready Room as ordered.  If something changes, let me know and we'll edit.

Stardate 2365.02.21
USS Peregrine, Captain's Ready Room - 0825


Silas sat in his desk chair, reviewing the various reports on his PADD.  The drill had, in fact, been a disastrous failure - but after looking further than just at the events on the bridge, Drake had found some definite bright spots in the crew's efforts.

By and large, response time had varied between acceptable and exemplary - if one took into account the failure of the turbolifts.  Damage Control had displayed the best marks of all - outside of perhaps Science - in terms of responsiveness and reaching their stations, but truth be told, Silas had little complain about in terms of response time overall. 

The Captain had spent the morning so far poring over details of the various departments and how they had done, and in composing reports to the various department heads highlighting their strengths and areas of needed improvement.  The promised nap had been short, indeed, and breakfast had gone largely untouched as Drake fell into his work. 

Realizing that the meeting time with Garner was at hand, he tapped in a final note and fired the reports off to his department heads.  Now came the unpleasant - and terribly important - meeting.

The door chimed precisely on time, and Silas spoke in reply.  "Come in."

The hatch whooshed open to admit a visibly deflated Ensign Garner.

"Ensign Bradley Garner, reporting as requested, sir" the young man spoke with an Academy salute as he snapped to attention.

"At ease, Ensign," the Captain replied - though he did not offer the junior officer a seat. 

A moment of silence hung in the air, stretched into several long, uncomfortable moments before Drake finally broke the silence. 

"Ensign Garner, I want you to understand something about me.  I believe in telling things like they truly are. If you perform well, I will tell you so.  If you perform poorly, I will tell you so.  I feel that honesty is necessary in assessments, that it does no one any good to sugarcoat the truth."

He paused for a moment, meeting the young man's eye.  "The fact of the matter is that you failed last night's test.  You failed it horribly.  You failed it about as badly as anyone COULD have failed it."

Drake shook his head.  "I knew that you are fresh out of the Academy.  I knew that you are flight control, but you have command training, have surely completed combat simulations before.  I did not expect perfection, as I quite frankly put you into a very challenging situation.  I expected that we would have taken some damage, even suffered some casualties.  I did not, however, expect to find that a Saber class vessel - the very tip of Starfleet's spear, sent to deal specifically with the likes of the enemiees that you faced - would be fleeing from vastly inferior opposition." 

Silas sighed.  "Starfleet does not teach unprovoked aggression.  We believe in seeking diplomatic solutions wherever possible.  But son... this is a warship.  If you are fired upon, you have not only the right, but the DUTY, to return fire.  If you are sitting in the Big Chair, you have to remember that sixty-six souls rely on YOU to keep them safe.  Sixty-six families are counting on YOU to bring their son, their daughter, their huband, their wife home again.  If someone fires upon this ship, then they are trying to KILL the people under your charge, and you MUST be prepared to do whatever it takes to prevent that from happening.  Do you understand?"

OOC: assuming a positive answer...

The Captain continued.  "Obviously, each situation must be handled differently.  Had your shields not been sabotaged, the Bindi pirates would have likely exhausted their generators before being able to inflict real damage upon the Peregrine; you would have had the luxury to negotiate, to posture, to avoid violence as long as possible.  But with your shields failing, you should have acted aggressively, decisively.  You could have disabled or destroyed all three vessels while still in phaser range; while the Peregrine does not have the armor to stand up to, say, a Romulan Warbird for long, you could have survived Bindi attacks even with no shields for long enough to kill them all.    Even had you felt that it made sense to add distance and buy some time, you could have launched a volley of torpedos to remove the threat.  Instead... you simply ran away."

Drake shook his head again.  "We are a warship, Garner.  Our primary job is to protect the assets of the Federation via the threat - and exercise - of force.  We must be sensible as to when to administer that use of force, but we cannot afford to be timid.  Doing so risks not only the lives of this crew, but the lives of the civilians we have been sent to protect."

Silas softened his tone a bit.  "Look.  You are a bright young man.  Your instructors think highly of you.  I believe that you have what it takes within you - now, it is up to you to prove me right.  Apply yourself to your duties and your studies.  Learn from your mistakes here, allow them to make you a better commander, a better man.  While painful, failure is often the best teacher of all... and fortunately for you, this failure only costs you a little pride."

For the briefest of moment's Michelle's face appeared, and Drake paused.  When he spoke again, his voice was a touch husky.  "Commander Zai will keep me apprised of your training.  I want to know that next time, you will be ready.  Make me proud, son."

OOC: any response, or none

Drake nodded.  "Dismissed."

Stardate 2365.02.21

USS Peregrine, Bridge - 0412

 "Ensign Garner," Captain Drake asked in an acid tone, "exactly what in the hell are you doing to my ship?"

Garner snapped to attention, saluting the captain, “Sir,” his only utterance, no excuses, no explenation.

The din of the snare drum was the only sound on the field. Stormrider was tied to the post, the offer of a blindfold and cigarette were given and refused, the Colonel paced back and forth in front of the infantrymen, their muskets aimed at Stormrider.

"This was perhaps not the most fair of tests.” The Colonel was speaking, “The last time that I checked, however, our enemies have little intention of concerning themselves over concepts such as fairness.  While I am aware that you are new to these sorts of responsibilities, the fact is that you do have them, and you must be capable of handling them.”

Stormrider held his head high.  Mistakes had been made, valuable soldiers could have died, innocent lives could have been lost.  Pirates or no, more training was needed before his next mission.

“My regards to the First Officer,” The Colonel continued, “and will he please cane you for your insolence.”

The Captain of the guard stepped up as the Colonel walked away, his voice barely heard over the drum, “Ready….Aim….”

“Ah... and please, Mister Garner, come and see me in my Ready Room at oh eight thirty."

The sound of so many muskets firing.

“Yes sir!” Garner saluted one more time, he would make sure he was there early.

Garner stood through the rest of the Captain’s orders, and as the Captain exited, and while he did not move, he was chastised himself for messing up like this.

“Well,” LTCM Zai said as he approached the command chair, “that was… exhilarating.” 

Garner exhaled through his nose as if to say that was an understatement

He drew to a stop beside Garner and, resting a cool hand on the sandy-haired ensign’s shoulder, said; “It seems you’ve had enough excitement for one shift, Bradley. Why don’t you go get a cup of coffee? We’ll handle the rest of Gamma watch for you.”

Garner was pretty confused at this, thinking he’d finish out his shift, “Sir?” But thinking better of it, he’d probably be reliving the last ten minutes over and over, and if something were to actually occur, would not be in the right headspace to do anything about it, “Yes, sir, I think that’s best.”

“Very well, Ensign,” Tochi nodded as Garner prepared to take his leave, “and remember; the art of victory is learned in defeat, yes? We look forward to your report on this matter.”

“You’ll have it soon sir.” Garner acknowledged as he made his way to the turbo lift, hardly noticing Lieutenant Nyle chuckling to himself.

His duster full of bullet holes, Stormrider was cut loose from the pole.  Some warning they had given him, he knew next time they wouldn’t miss.  

Stardate 2365.02.21

USS Peregrine, The Airie - 0543

Garner had thought about writing his report in his quarters, but not wanting to wake up his Andorian roommate by accident, and thinking Tochi’s coffee idea was a pretty good one, decided to go to the Airie instead.  There were other crewmen in the mess hall, Alpha shift would start in an hour or so and the people here were going through their morning routines. He mostly ignored them, only looking up when he heard voices talking every once in a while.  He was determined to write a good report, his actions on the bridge earlier were not only embarrassing, but would not be forgotten soon. Writing a good report would be the first in a long series of steps to correct his reputation. Why had he run? The same question kept haunting him.  In the Academy Garner had seen no combat, although he was well versed with all the simulations. Had not knowing the encounter was a test shown his own true colors? Was he a coward? He didn’t think so…

Stardate 2361.02.12

Shuttlecraft 004, Above Sierra-Nevadas, Earth - 1327

“Shuttle 7 to Shuttle 4, you are veering slightly to starboard,” Flight Instructor Peterson’s voice echoed over the com.

“Aye sir, correcting course,” Cadet Garner’s fingers keyed the appropriate places on the shuttlecraft’s console.  An hour into the manual atmospheric flight lesson the first year had been bored. He knew all this like the back of his hand.  He’d been flying Type-16 shuttle’s like this for what seemed like forever. He wanted to open it up, see what it could do.  

Stardate 2365.02.21

USS Peregrine, The Airie - 0551

Garner paused in his report, switched screens on his PADD and resumed the other piece of literature he was working on:

Dear Uncle Bret,

 I hope this letter finds you well.  Sorry I have not written sooner, there has been so much going on as of late.  As I told you in my last letter, I’ve been assigned to the Peregrine, a Saber class starship, and while I cannot let you know where I’m going, life these last couple of days has been interesting.  I like all the folk in my department, there’s one young Petty Officer I like more than the rest, but I’ll tell you all about her later. My boss, LtCm Zai is great. He really knows what he’s doing and he’s super easy to talk to. …his eyes scanned further down the letter.

 I feel terrible that I’m not around to help out with the ranch, I know I’ve been at the Academy for a while, and now I’m posted on a ship, but it’s just dawning on me that unless I’m home on leave, that’s not going to be a part of my life anymore.  I’m hoping Adeline is picking up my share of the work, you said good things about her before. ...skipping to where he had left off.

 I messed up real bad today.  Didn’t do what I was supposed to.  Forgot everything I trained for and ran.  You raised me better than that. I haven’t been doing this long enough to rely on instinct yet, I gotta slow down, think about it, clear the cobwebs.  I know what I have to do, if I did it over again it would be no trouble at all. It’s so clear when I look back. But it’s done now, and I gotta make reparations …

“Do you mind if I sit?” Garner was pulled out of his letter and back into the Airie where Vaela P’Tammah was standing across the table from him, tray in hand, one antennae cocked up with a questioning look.

“Oh, yes please, sorry, I was lost there for a bit.” Garner motioned to the chair across from him, “What are you doing up so early?” 

His roommate gladly accepted the offer and sat down. “I have the helm for alpha shift this morning.  The question is, why aren’t you on the bridge? Gamma shift isn’t over yet.”

Garner shifted nervously “I was, um, relieved of duty… Lt. Zai thought I should get some coffee.  All the excitement this morning… apparently it was too exhilarating for me.” 

She raised an eyebrow mid bite.  

“Not saying he was wrong, mind you,” Garner continued, “Just feel really foolish not finishing my first shift is all.” He sat on his hand, and looked down at his PADD.

The roommates talked, she said nice things, things that made Garner feel better.  He shared stories from his days at his uncle’s ranch, she told him about dropping out of art school.  When she got up to head to the bridge Garner was feeling much better about himself. He deleted the last paragraph in the letter to his uncle. And wrote this in its place:

Things are a might interesting here, gonna have to get used to the ups and downs, but I think I’ll be ok. 

Miss all y’all more than I can say,

Love,

Bradley

After sending the letter, Garner set about finishing the report.  He read it over for the third time, and satisfied sent it off to Tochi.  He finished his last cup of coffee and made his way back up to deck 2.

Stardate 2365.02.21

USS Peregrine, Outside the Captain’s Ready Room - 0807

Petty officer Vish Riva sat at her desk and watched Ens. Garner approach.  He was early, Captain Drake was not expecting him until half past the hour.

“Good morning,” The Ensign nodded his head at her.

“Good morning sir,” She replied.

“I’m a tad early.” He said, rubbing his hands together, then, wiping them on his pants.

“You are early sir,” She said reassuringly, “Can I get you anything?”

“No, I’m good,” He looked around, a bit distracted, “Thank you though.” He added, looking back at her. “I’m just gonna sit for a while, if that’s ok.”

“Suit yourself,” She smiled, “I’ll be right here if you need anything sir.” And she went back to what she was working on.

Garner sat.  He shifted from side to side.  He sat on his hands. He folded his arms across his chest.  Vaela’s pep talk had gotten him this far, but he was right back where he started now that he was outside Captain Drake’s office.  He’d messed up before, a certain broken fence disaster when he was 15 came to mind, spent all night getting the cattle back in, but this was his career.  Was it over before it had begun?

Stormrider stood in front of the Colonel’s office, his bullet ridden duster played loosely on the breeze.  Time to face the music.

Stardate 2365.02.21

USS Peregrine, Captain’s Ready Room - 0830

Garner made the door chime precisely on time.

“Come in.” Came Drake’s voice from within.

"Ensign Bradley Garner, reporting as requested, sir" he gave his best Academy salute as he snapped to attention.

"At ease, Ensign," the Captain replied, Garner stood as Drake lectured.  The young Ensign was expecting the worst: extra duties, confined to quarters, worst of all, no duties, anything.

“...you MUST be prepared to do whatever it takes to prevent that from happening.  Do you understand?" Drake asked.

“Aye sir, I do.” Garner had a lot of things to work out, but nor right now.  Now he waited for the other shoe to drop.

“...you will be ready.  Make me proud, son." Drake’s lecture had been far gentler than Garner expected.

“Yes sir.” The ensign replied, here it come…

Drake nodded, “Dismissed.”

Stardate 2365.02.21

USS Peregrine, Garner’s Quarters - 0840

Garner didn’t remember leaving the Captain’s Ready Room.  He didn’t remember getting back to his room, nor changing into his sleeping clothes.  But as he got into bed, more relieved than he’s ever been in his life, he did remember he was on duty in six hours.  He would speak with his XO then about extra training, he would finally get to fly the Peregrine. Today could have been a lot worse.

Stardate 2365.02.21 (Sunday)
U.S.S. Peregrine; Deck 1 - Bridge – 0423

“As you will, Lieutenant,” Tochi grinned in reply to the CSO’s request to take her leave, “but, if there was something you were working on, here, please, don’t feel as if we’re chasing you off the Bridge, or that you’d be a distraction should you choose to stay...”

 “Thank you, sir,” she managed somewhat hurriedly. “I have work to do back at my quarters. You know what they say; Time cannot be taught new tricks.” 

And a stitch in an old dog is a penny earned. The Trill managed to stifle a chuckle at Asovil’s mixed idiom and, instead, simply offered a nod and a smile; “Very well, Lieutenant. Have a wonderful morning.” By the stars, she is beautiful…

He acknowledged the salute that the woman had snapped off, then, and watched as she strode for the turbolift. He wasn’t entirely sure that he’d seen it correctly as Asovil seemed more than a bit rushed in her exit but Tochi thought that the CSO’s cheeks might have flushed to a light violet hue as she made her way off the bridge. Did we embarrass her, he wondered as she stepped onto the lift and, then, disappeared behind the closing door. Not our intention, at all, he sighed inwardly, his gaze tracking away from the hatchway and panning back across the bridge to the viewscreen, I’ll have to be sure to apologize for that, later. Settling back into the command chair, Zai closed his eyes for a moment, attempting, once more, to chase the lingering effects of the anesthizine (and the persistent dream images) from his mind before turning his attentions to his work.

A soft chirp from the console mounted in the arm of the chair coaxed his eyes open and drew his attention to the small screen. Preliminary analytics from Silas’ simulation were coming in from the query he’d started minutes ago and, surely, the reports he’d requested Tactical and Operations would be following soon enough… Oh, frill, he silently cursed as, in his scrolling, he was reminded of a previous message from Lt Nyle to which he had yet to respond… his finger flicked at the screen, located and opened the unanswered communique…

LCDR Zai,

At your earliest convenience, sir, I would appreciate a meeting with you to discuss any equipment or requisitions that the Flight Department might be in need of.

Also, to keep you informed of  Operations Department operations, I intend to try and implement a "Food night" of sorts in which Petty Officer Finnley will head the preparation of some non-replicator made food that we have aboard. I hope to make this a weekly occurrence every Wednesday night. 

The investigation into the small computer blip is ongoing, however, I regret to inform you that it has thus far been ineffective.

Cordially,

LT Nyle, COO

…The XO considered the message for a moment, his gaze sweeping the bridge to ensure that nothing else would require his immediate attention, before composing his overdue response…

LT Nyle,

My apologies for having not replied in a more timely fashion; circumstances have outweighed consideration, I’m afraid.

As to your proposed meeting, I find myself on duty earlier than expected, this morning, and can entertain a consultation at your convenience... Given the results of this morning’s drill, an updated course of Command Training programs will certainly be appreciated and I’ll be sure to compile a list of any other items that Flight Control might need, this cycle.

The “Fresh Food Night” you plan to implement sounds wonderful and I have no doubt that a regular event of this sort will go a long way to keeping morale high among the crew. Petty Officer Finnley is an excellent choice in this matter as she has repeatedly demonstrated what can only be referred to as “culinary wizardry” with our existing stores, replicated or otherwise. I look forward to seeing this plan come to fruition.

Finally, thank you for the update and your continued attention to the computer troubles. Please do keep me posted as to progress in this matter and let me know if you require any additional manpower from Engineering to support the effort. Crewman Adler has demonstrated an advanced knowledge of computing systems and may be useful where diagnostics and troubleshooting are concerned.

We can discuss any of the items above in greater detail when your schedule allows us to meet. Again, I’ll be on the bridge until 1500 but, barring any unforeseen complications, should be able to accommodate a meeting at your convenience.

Regards,

LCDR Zai

The reply complete, Tochi sent the message to Lt Nyle, and returned to his review of the analytics and reports from this mornings simulation.

Stardate 2365.02.20
USS Peregrine, Deck 2 - CMO Quarters - 0749

Melody swings her right arm in a windmill motion on the way to her bathroom, trying to loosen her aching joints and determine which pangs are actually just aches, and which will be deep, mal-colored bruises. Her PADD chirps to life as she brushes her teeth, alerting her of a message from Lieutenant Nyle:

Lieutenant Reine,
At your earliest convenience, I would appreciate a meeting with you to discuss any supply or requisitions that Supply might be able to assist with.
Cordially,
LT Nyle, Chief Operations Officer

She finishes her brushing and lifts her shirt and sleeves in the mirror, noting the bruising beginning to form there as well from her morning bout in the holodeck, and making a mental list of anything not readily available to her crew which may come in handy.

Lieutenant Nyle,
I am available to meet with you at any time between 1200 and 1700 today, and within the same times tomorrow. Please advise if you are able to accomodate any of those times and I will oblige.
Thank you,
Dr. Melody Reine, Chief Medical Officer

Changing, she picks up a book on rare, grotesque diseases for some light reading, and makes her way to The Aerie.

Stardate 2365.02.21
USS Peregrine, Sick Bay- 0410

Dr. Reine’s team works together to prepare Medical Bay, she prepping their stations and securing equipment, while Chief Cook designates a team to prepare the cargo bay as an offsite Sick Bay, should the space be required. In the short amount of time she had worked with this team, she trusted they would be capable in performing their duties efficiently, as long as their nerves and egos didn’t get the best of them. Most of them had already been through dire trials such as these, so from an objective perspective, she was looking forward to a minor catastrophe or two in order to see how they worked first hand.

The Peregrine lurched suddenly as if struck critically by the unknown ships, causing the equipment to rattle violently, and Melody to catch herself on one of the spare beds. Well this isn’t good, she mused as her team continued to brace themselves, and as she awaited any alerts of any crew members in need. She looked around med bay. Most of the eyes she met were stoic and hard with resolve, some gave way to a bit more of the fear they felt. She wasn’t sure what hers gave away, hopefully that steely confidence she’d always held in situations like these, and hopefully not the complacency she felt to possibly finally see her dau--

The shaking and klaxon blaring suddenly ceased, and the captain’s voice now filled the air.

=/\= Now hear this: this emergency has been a drill to test our combat readiness. To put it bluntly, we failed. Expect to be in touch with your department heads regarding areas of improvement. Drake out=/\=

Melody shook her head sheepishly, knowing she should have seen this coming, and turned to face the regimented medical staff Chief Cook had already begun to assemble before her. She wondered at what the captain had walked into when he had stepped on the bridge to declare their failure, but she supposed that had this been a real attack and they failed, the outcome would have been the same for sick bay.

When they were aligned, Melody clasped her hands behind her and gave her address, “I can see the relief on a lot of your faces, and I’m sure you can see it in mine as well. You should. Had this been a true failure as our captain declared, we may not have made it this far. I don’t mean to scare you, but instead to let you know that despite this being merely a drill, my confidence in this team has only grown. Each of you arrived and organized at an exceptional pace, and were ready to take your orders in an instant. That isn’t to say that there isn’t room for improvement. Fear is acceptable. It will happen. But we cannot let that immobilize us in our crew’s time of need,” she nods at Cook, “The Chief and I will be preparing emergency preparedness drills and exams to ensure that even if your mind is preoccupied with fear, your hands and your skills are still capable of saving lives. Understood?”

Her team gives her the affirmative and she nods and grins back, “Good. Now, those on shift, put this Sick Bay back in order. Those off, get back to sleep. Dismissed. Oh, Chief,” she says before Cook can take her leave, “About those drills, do you have time to discuss those at 1000?” Melody watches the impressive woman take a mental inventory of what she has planned for the first few hours of her shift, and meet her eyes once more, “Yes, Doctor. Shall I meet you in your office?”

“Yes that would be perfect. Please come with some ideas ready. I’ll have some of my own and we’ll discuss a plan from there.”

After their goodbyes Melody made her way back to the turbolifts, the medical bag she always kept with her tight in her hand. She observed how other teams were dealing with the aftermath of the drill--sleepy-eyed ensigns, relieved POs, and the rest. She imagined her own eyelids would likely betray her as well. It had been nearly twenty-four hours since her previous day had begun, swords and fists beating away her nightmares. This day may as well have began like this, she thought, unsure if she’d be able to get back to sleep after everything. The ghost calls of the klaxon still rang in her ears. But as she set her medical bag next to her bed and stripped out of her uniform, weariness washed over her like a wave and she was asleep atop her blankets in moments.

Stardate 2365.02.21

USS Peregrine, Deck 3, Port Holodeck 0515

“Computer, where the hell is everybody?” Garner said to the air in front of him. A silver haired betazoid leaned towards him in response.

"Pause recording," Lt. Tal frowned, examining Garner's face and expression from a few different angles.

She would have preferred to have been in the bridge at the time of the exercise to get a sense of the reactions of the crew present first hand, but that would have defeated the purpose; Garner would have deferred to her and wouldn't have benefited from this exercise. So she had to look at the results second hand, with the holograms she wasn't particularly fond of.

"It always is intimidating to be unsupervised," She mused, "And that's why this kind of exercise is extremely important. Holograms may serve useful practise tools to an extent, but when you enter this room, there's a false safety that comes with it. It's not real. If you fail you can just try again. That small bit of reassurance in the back of your mind that you are not in danger, nor is anyone else. Of course, the same can be said of drills to an extent..."

"Still, those are what we have available to us. And if the drills serve to provide confidence, then all the better," Tal nodded to herself, walking away from Garner and to the tactical console.

Tal stepped behind the console, consulting the readings herself, "Officer T'Darren, hm?" She looked at the Rigelian's hologram, before consulting her PADD, "Your suggestions here seem to be quite at odds with what your record suggests they would be. Did the unconventional nature of the enemy attack lead you to assume they had an unseen advantage somewhere in attacking a Saber-class vessel? Or was it the shock from an ambush?"

The Rigelian's face was passive, and Tal's eyebrow twitched in slight annoyance. She had tried to learn how to read expressions for the sake of examining holographic records such as this, but it was as if she were half deaf and trying to hear someone whispering to her from that side. Shaking her head, Tal made another note in her PADD, "While Ensign Garner's performance was easily due to inexperience and freezing in expectance of receiving orders from a superior that didn't arrive, what caused you such trouble?" She wondered, "Garner may have been calling the commands, but they are at the recommendation of the supporting crewmembers on the bridge."

Lt. Tal rubbed the back of her head with one hand, running her fingers through her silver hair, and giving a sigh, "Are you truly certified for this position, T'Darren?"

"I suppose I will be the judge of that," she keyed in a meeting with T'Darren at 0730, "Computer, end replay."

USS Peregrine, Deck 3, Lt. Tal's Quarters 0730

"Enter."

When Officer T'Darren entered her quarters, the Rigelian wasn't entirely sure what to expect. The room was dark, and Lt. Tal wasn't visible from the door. The Rigelian's face scrunched a little in confusion, walking in hesitantly.

"Behind you!"

T'Darren rushed forward in surprise at the sudden shout, before twisting around to see what might have warranted such a call.

"Lights," Lt. Tal calmly spoke, and the room's lights flickered on, revealing her position beside the door, tapping on her PADD.

"What the f-" T'Darren stopped and straightened himself up, though not quite able to keep the shaking from his hand, "Er-I mean, if I may, what was that about, Sir?"

"I'll tell you in a moment. Come, sit," Lt. Tal offered, leading both of them to the table in her room.

Once they were both seated, Lt. Tal looked over at T'Darren, "I was not privy to your reaction at the time of the exercise, so I had to improvise," The betazoid explained, "I wanted to better understand your performance earlier."

T'Darren swallowed, but his face stayed passive as was his usual, "Well, it all happened so suddenly. I wasn't certain of the best option to take, and the shields-"

Lt. Tal lifted a hand, "Relax," She gave a gentle smile, "Would you like tea or anything?" She offered. When T'Darren shook his head, she continued, "It seems I was correct in my hypothesis - when you are startled, you seem to fall back on old exercises, protocols learned at the time: to give yourself space from an aggressor, dodge and avoid being hit. Those protocols work well for scientific and other vessels, which are less capable in combat. But this is not that kind of a vessel. We must be ready to be an aggressor in even unfavourable situations."

"How will I know which suggestion to provide?" T'Darren asked with a frown.

"There is a critical moment," Lt. Tal replied, "Between when you know you are under attack while lacking of knowledge of the situation, and when the commander makes the call to a specific action. The best we can do at that time is to disclose to the commander our present options. Whether the enemy is in range of our own offenses, status on shields, and trajectory of the attacker or attackers. Their threat capacity if possible, but such may not be easily determined in that moment. Leave the call to counter attack, defend, or flee to the commanding officer."

"I will assign you certain hologram programs for training," Lt. Tal continued, "in them, there is a probability of being ambushed, or coming across an enemy, or no encounter happening. It is my hope that this curriculum may serve to hone your initial response to these situations. Any questions?"

T'Darren shook his head, finding his gaze not meeting Lt. Tal's eyes.

"Don't worry. If your record is accurate, I do know your capabilities are well able to grasp the intricacies of many tactical situations. See that this particular kind of situation is added to that," Lt. Tal gave a smile, "The real thing is far different than reading about them in records and hypotheticals, isn't it?"

"Yes, Sir," T'Darren agreed, feeling relieved that was all as far as the reprimand went.

"Dismissed."

After T'Darren left her quarters, Lt. Tal lifted a hand to her temple, "That much worry over the results of an exercise. You'd think he was being dismissed from the crew," She shook her head.

"If Captain Drake asks me if we are combat ready," Lt. Tal reviewed the notes she had taken in her PADD, "I can certainly say not on Sundays. Perhaps I might recommend T'Darren be relieved of bridge duty at tactics for the interrim until he finishes that curriculum..."

Stardate 2365.02.22
U.S.S. Peregrine; Deck 1 - Bridge – 0735

The viewscreen showed the emptiness of warp while the bridge crew went about their duties.  Silas sat in the Big Chair with a PADD in his hand, reviewing notes and performance reports.  There would indeed be bullet points to cover in the staff meeting.

Lieutenant Moriden glanced up from the Ops station.  "Captain, I have a priority message from Starfleet Command."

Drake sat the PADD down and stood.  "Onscreen, please."

The viewscreen shifted to the scene of a  human female in an admiral's jacket.  Silas recognized the face underneath the graying brown hair.

"Admiral Harding.  I hope that you are well.  What can we do for you?" he spoke.

The Admiral frowned.  "Commander Drake, you recall the escape pod that you brought to Starbase 118?"

Silas nodded.  "Of course, Admiral.  What of it?"

Harding continued.  "Commander, that escape pod was picked up by the U.S.S. Serapis for study.  Five days ago, we lost all contact with the Serapis.  Four hours ago, we received a garbled distress signal from her."

After a pause, an audio recording began playing.

...containment failed... changes... loss of life... require aid... caution... HELP US...

"That's all there is," Harding added. 

Silas felt a disquiet in the pit of his stomach as the admiral spoke.  "Commander Drake, the Peregrine is the closest option that we have.  I am sending you the last known coordinates of the Serapis.  You are to proceed there immediately to ascertain the situation and to deal with it appropriately.  Use extreme caution, as there is no telling what exactly happened.  If there are any survivors, you are to render aid."

Drake nodded immediately.  "Of course, Admiral.    Do we know anything else?"

An odd look crossed the admiral's face for a moment, but she shook her head.  "No, Commander.  I can provide no further intel on the matter.  Conduct yourself with caution and keep us approsed.  Good luck, and Godspeed.  Harding out."

With that, the viewscreen with blank.

Silas sat down again for a moment.  "Tochi," he spoke, "set a course for those coordinates, warp factor six."  Without bothering to verify if the order had been acknolwedged, the located his yeoman. 

"Riva," he called, "inform the senior staff that our mission has changed, and that the new orders will be the focus of the 0900 staff meeting."

The Bajoran picked up on the tension in Drake's voice, and for once, offered no sass.  "Aye, sir.  I'll get right on that."

Silas nodded.  "Thank you."

His hand gripped the edge of the chair.  This felt ominous...