(post worked up between Eol and myself)

"Hey Mac," Tuvar said turning to face him as he strode up the corridor from the lift and found the Chief of Security leaning on the bulkhead outside his quarters.

It wasn't odd for Tuvar to stop by every now and again, the two of them sparred on a semi-regular basis and, of course, worked together on the Tactical and Security concerns of Discovery on a daily basis... What was odd was that she had addressed him as Mac, and was carrying a phaser. The sight of her so armed - even if it wasn't unusual for the woman to carry a phaser - and using that nickname had almost stopped the Scot in his tracks.

"Tuvar," he nodded, looking past her and then over his shoulder as if to ensure that a couple of her security guards hadn't accompanied her here to throw him in the brig; "Ye caught me b'surprise, lass. Somethin' I c'n do fer ye?"

"Well," the words came to her lips, "It has been some time since I have gone over the tactical rim of a Galaxy class, and I was hoping that you could help re-familiarize me with it. Although I am not TAC myself, I just thought that it wouldn't hurt."

Tuvar hoped that her apprehension did not show, trying to put into its place a feeling of beleivable calm.

The Rim? Really? Jack spiked a brow at the request and found it somehow strange, especially given the current goings on... Ach! As wonky's thengs've been 'round here, I dinnae s'pose et's all tha' oot o' sorts. Prob'ly some kinda contingecy plan ta keep me off th' bridge if et comes ta tha'. "I reckon I could give ye th' five credit tour, lass," he said, flashing her a crooked grin as he stepped passed her and cued the door to his quarters. "Me monkey-boys decided tha' I need th' day off, though, so we'll 'ave ta make due onna holodeck, if tha's a'right."

An' after I give Tuvar th' rundoon onna TAC Rim, I'll jus' have Chan meet me onna holodeck...
"Ye mind if I get a shave fairst, though," he asked, gesturing for Tuvar to make herself at home, "Had a bloody hell o' a marnin' an' fergot ta scrape me fargin' whiskers off."

"Go ahead and get your shave, and I'll wait for you here," the reply came from her lips smoothly but all the while her mind was jumbled in a way that she could hardly make sense out of it all.

Mac nodded faintly and then disappeared into the small bathroom that separated the living quarters from his bedroom. Somethin’s no’ right aboot all o’ this, Jackie-boy, he mused as he peeled off his tunic and retrieved his razor from a small shelf, Tuvar runs a tight crew an’ I’m sure she’s go’ all ‘er bases covered but, even so, why inna hell would she choose now o’ all times ta get a refresher onna TAC stand?
He checked his reflection in the mirror before touching the blade of the razor to his cheek. Gads but ye do look like ten kilometers o’ shyte, MacTavish, he almost laughed, ye best get ta pullin’ yerself tagether! As he drew the razor down the length of his jawline his eyes ticked briefly towards the living area as he once again considered Tuvar’s real reason for being here… especially now. Sure, the woman probably had actually stood post at the Primary Tactical Station in quite a while but there were only a few shifts he could remember in the past few months that Tuvar hadn’t been standing just to his left at the Security console. As observant as the half-vulcan was, Mac was almost sure that she didn’t actually need the lessons she had requested… Hell, she’d be jus’s quick as Jeffrey ta hop onna Primary ef I was’nae standin’ there, an’ prob’ly be jus’s keen onna controls.
“So, Tuvar,” he called as he tapped the razor on the edge of the sink and decided that the best way to get the real scuttlebutt from the Security Chief was to simply ask… after all, he’d been forthcoming with her about Ian, hadn’t he?... “Wha’s this really aboot, lass? Ye need a tour o’ th’ Rim aboot’s much’s I need someone ta show me how ta break doon a Type II…”

Well, she hadn't been ordered to not tell, just not to raise his suspicions, which is what she had already done. Now that her orders were broke, she might as well tell him the full truth.

"Alright," Tuvar came out, "but let command know that I am the one who told you. I am not asking you to lie to them, just not tell them. Commander Gavison asked me to accompany you, anywhere, everywhere. So until he orders otherwise, or the Captain, then I'll not be more than an arm's length from you at any one time. Is that clear, Mac?"

She couldn't help but feel that she had betrayed her commanding officer's trust, the look of guilt awash on her face.

STARDATE: 2366.10.22 – 1500 hours
CSO's Office


The day seemed to be two weeks long and it was taking a toll on the CSO. The break she had shared with Lt. Keely earlier in the day was the only one she would get until her shift was over.

Her tired eyes lingered on a PADD that had been dropped off earlier for her approval. Picking it up, she reluctantly fingered in a security code and began reading the report. The words were meaningless to her at this point and after re-reading the same sentence three times, a heavy sigh escaped her lips. Distracted by the events of the last 24 hours she set the PADD aside, leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.

Much had happened since the staff dinner the night before, Jack’s fight with the drunken ensign, the truth about why he was so edgy lately and their time together afterwards.
It was the first time they had made love and it brought goosebumps just thinking about it.

She felt so safe when he wrapped her up tight in his arms, he made her feel that no-one could ever come between them or harm her. She trusted him fully and would not be afraid to walk through the Fires of Vulcan with him.
Yes, she loved him. It was absolute and she hoped he felt the same way. After last night she was sure he did but when she awoke and he wasn’t there, her heart sank in a river of uncertainty. Even after their tender but brief moment after the staff meeting this morning, the doubt still lingered heavily. She wished they could go away somewhere together, even if for just a short time. She was sure she could discern his true intentions and dispel this nagging doubt.

Mac's Quarters - 2366.10.22
“Alright,” Tuvar’s voiced sighed from the living area, “but don’t let command know that I am the one that told you…”

Ach, I fargin’ knew it, MacTavish grumbled inwardly, razing away another swath of stubble as the SEC Chief began to confirm his suspicions.

“…I’m not asking you to lie to them,” she continued, “just don’t tell them. Commander Gavison asked me to accompany you, anywhere and everywhere. So, until he or the Captain orders otherwise, then I’ll not be more than an arm’s length from you at any one time. Is that clear, Mac?”

Jack’s jaw clenched tight enough that, for an instant, he thought he might crush his own teeth. The blood sang in his ears and his first instinct was to either throw something, smash something, or both. “So et’s a bee-beh setter I’m needin’ then, is it,” he growled, unceremoniously droping the razor into the sink – either failing to realize or not caring that he hadn’t yet shaved the stubble from his upper lip and chin (which, ironically enough, left him with the start of a goatee not unlike the XO’s) – and snatched his tunic off of the hook before stomping out into the living room, “er is this jus’ th’ fargin’ kinder, gentler version o’ hoose arrest?! Ef th’ fargin’ brass’s so bloody consairned wi’ me bein’ a problem, why’d they no’ jus’ toss me inna fargin’ brig instead o’ wastin’ yer time taggin’ along at me heels like some fargin’ puppy?!”

The TAC Officer’s ire swelled and he stormed across the floor, grumbling in Gaelic through gritted teeth, as he angrily tugged his tunic on and fastened it up before the urge to hurl the thing across the room overtook him. “Gimme a fargin’ coffee,” he snapped, smacking a hand against the bulkhead above the replicator port.

He couldn’t bring himself to look at Tuvar just yet… not fuming like this, anyway… it wasn’t her fault, after all; she was simply following the orders that she had been given and she didn’t seem to like them anymore than he did. So, as he waited for the replicator to deliver his java, Jack simply chewed back the venom that threatened to spew from his mouth if he dared to open it and pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to remember one of the “anger management” techniques that Counselor Arevaci had shared with him a short time ago… Easy enough ta fargin’ remember when yer no’ pessed, he fumed, the anger fogging his memory of the impromptu chat with the Counselor, but I’ll wager fargin’ Arevaci’s no’ tried any o’ these when… wait…Deep breath an’ count back from ten?Izzat right?
Mac forced his eyes closed and, as he sucked in a deep breath (that sounded more like a growl than anything), tried to will some of the tension from his neck before starting the mental countdown…

Ten, nine…
The replicator blipped, announcing that his coffee was ready.

…eight, sev’n, six…
His eyes opened a bit, and lifted from the toes of his boots to the small table a few steps away that defined his “work area.” In stark contrast to the typically Spartan décor of his present quarters (or any quarters to which he’d ever been assigned, for that matter) he noticed a brightly colored and artfully crafted vase filled with a small assortment of flowers that he couldn’t name sitting just above the LCARS terminal there… It took a moment, but he finally recognized the vase as one that he had seen in Chan’s quarters before and, seeing it in his quarters now actually did more to calm him than this ridiculous countdown was doing.

…five, four, three…
Chantelle had seemed surprised by the “emptiness” of Jack’s quarters the first time she had seen them, he remembered, and it hadn’t taken long after the first time the CSO had mentioned it that che had started sneaking in her idea of “decorative touches.” The urge to smile twitched one corner of his mouth for a nanosecond.

…two, an’ bloody one. Between the heretofore unnoticed vase, the recollection of fragments of the numerous conversations he had had with others today in regards to his “issues,” and the stupid little exercise that Arevaci had recommended, Mac was actually finding himself feeling a bit less agitated over all of this… not much, of course, but some, at any rate. He retrieved the steaming mug of coffee from the replicator and, following one more deep breath (this one not so close to a growl as the last), took a sip of the coffee before finally turning his steel-hued eyes in Tuvar’s direction. It was then, as he studied her over the rim of his mug, that he noticed the slightly guilt-ridden expression on the half-vulcan’s face… Jayzus, MacTavish. Ye cannae be pessed at Tuvar fer this, lad. An’ ye cannae reas’nably be pessed at Gavison er th’ Ol’ Man, either. Any other crew’d’ve a’ready had ye inna pokey an’ relieved o’ duty in a wink, wouldn’ they?
“Oy, lass,” Jack said finally, the hint of an apologetic smile flickering over his features as he crossed the floor and rested a had on the woman’s shoulder, “dinnae look so doon inna mouth aboot et. Ye’ve go’ yer arders an’ ye’ve gotta see ‘em done, aye? I’ll no’ say a waird ta th’ brass an’, ef ye gotta follow me aboot ‘til they say otherwise, I reckon I dinnae have much choice inna matter.”

He heaved a sigh and patted her shoulder reassuringly before taking another sip of coffee and crossing the room to examine Chan’s vase more closely. He perched on the edge of the table and picked the thing up, a true smile playing on his lips as he noticed the simple card that read “With Love, C.” attached to the bundled flower stems.

“So,” he smirked, returning the vase to the exact spot it had occupied a moment before, and looking back to his SEC counterpart, “within an arm’s reach, is it? Tha’s gonna be bloody uncomfortable when et comes ta usin’ th’ head, innit? An’ I reckon yer gonna hafta scrap wi’ Chantelle if ye wan’ th’ right side o’ th’ bed.”

He swallowed another mouthful of coffee; “I’ve prob’ly no’ go’ th’ right ta know, lass, but wha’ exactly are ye s’posed ta be watchin’ me fer? Saftey o’ the ship er ‘fer my own good’?”

((OOC: Out of respect and friendship for Tuvar, Mac won’t ‘rail against being assigned a babysitter’ (at least not to command…and at least not yet)… Assuming that Tuvar informs him of the real resoning behind it, Mac may actually understand and find that it makes sense. He may not be happy about being followed around every waking moment, though. He’s planning to meet Chantelle a little bit later and having Tuvar within arm’s reach may make that a little awkward. … He’ll inform Tuvar of this, of course… aaaand room for replies, interjections, etc, all through this. Back to you Vesper)).

She could only be thankful as Mac calmed down and decided not to blame her for the commander's orders. A slight smile of relief even crossed her face as she relaxed with Mac's cooling down. Tuvar looked at Mac queerly as he picked up a vase of flowers, staring at it intently. He even smiled while he held the vase in both hands, so unlike the hard shelled Mac that she knew.

“So,” he smirked, returning the vase to the exact spot it had occupied a moment before, and looking back to his SEC counterpart, “within an arm’s reach, is it? Tha’s gonna be bloody uncomfortable when et comes ta usin’ th’ head, innit? An’ I reckon yer gonna hafta scrap wi’ Chantelle if ye wan’ th’ right side o’ th’ bed.”

A laugh escaped from her lips at the thought of constantly staying within an arm's reach of the Chief TAC. It could prove to be an entertaining, enlightening experience on the man, but she would gratefull decline. She was sure that her cheeks even turned a slight shade of crimson at the though of it all.

"Well...." she fidgeted to get the words out, "...the whole staying within an arm's reach was just a figure of speech. And I will have to get some sleep myself, even if I don't need as much as you do. I'll just have to post a couple of sec crewman outside your door when I do go off to bed."

He swallowed another mouthful of coffee; “I’ve prob’ly no’ go’ th’ right ta know, lass, but wha’ exactly are ye s’posed ta be watchin’ me fer? Saftey o’ the ship er ‘fer my own good’?”

Now this truly indeedy was a touchy question. If she said just one wrong word, then she could possibly anger the chief Tac and he would have every right to be. Tuvar now understood why diplomats had so many problems keeping the peace between everyone, and she was sure that she would not be so good at that sort of work.

"The commander did not know exactly what to expect, so he instructed me to keep an eye out for anything that seemed out of place."

The thoughts started running through her head, and she immediately thought of a way that they could relieve the tension of the situation, "Hey, Mac, would you be interested in some holodeck time? You are off duty for the rest of the day, and it does take two senior officers to disable the safety protocauls on these galaxy class vessels. It could prove to be some fun."

(got the two senior officer thing from a TNG episode, where data wanted Laforge to help him disable the safety protocauls so that he could test out a theory towards his emotions.)

MacTavish rolled his eyes as Tuvar tried, tactfully, to explain the orders she had been given and the reasoning behind them.

Anythin’ tha’ seems oota place. Jus’ like th’ fagin’ Academy, Jack fumed, recalling the first time Ian’s association with extremists had put him under scrutiny of the higher-ups, Follow MacTavish ever’where he goes an’ be damn sure he’s no’ aidin’ an’ abettin’ his idiot o’ a brother. Ach! An’ dinnae bloody fergit ta put some guards on ‘is fargin’ door jus’ onna chance ‘e might sleepwalk an’ boost a shootle! Er, Gads ferbid, th’ radical noot-jobs come doon ‘ere an’ run off wi’ our cadet!
“C’mon, Tuvar,” he grumbled, pushing off of the desk, “Guards on me fargin’ door? Wha’ th’ bloody hell’m I gonna do whilst I’m sleepin’?” He shook his head slowly and strode back across the room, draining the remainder of his coffee as he went. “I s’pose tha’ all me communications’re bein’ monitored’s well, aye?

Y’know wha’,” the CTO continued before Tuvar could respond, “don’ answer tha’, lass. I dinnae even care ta know.” He returned the now empty coffee mug to the replicator port and found himself taking another deep breath as he folded his arms across his chest and leaned one shoulder against the wall; “I reckon if t’were anyone else onnis boat, I’d be takin’ th’ same measures.” Aye, an’ if th’ lit’le goat-shagger does show ‘is face inna Aldor system, ye know they’ll be glad they did…
“Hey, Mac,” Tuvar said, breaking the silence that had suddenly fallen over the room, “Would you be interested in some holodeck time? You are off duty for the rest of the day and it does take two senior officers to disable the security protocols on these galaxy class vessels…It could prove to be fun.”

Mac again, he mused as a smirk twisted his lips, I swear, th’ whole fargin’ ship’s callin’ me Mac, these days. I’m gonna hafta kell Jeffrey. Jack looked at her, then, and couldn’t help but chuckle. Tuvar looked like a Vulcan, of that there was no doubt, but unlike most Vulcans he had ever met – half-bloods included – she was capable of letting her emotions show through and, right now, she looked positively mischievous.

“Sure an’ wha’d ye have in mind tha’ we’d need ta disable th’ security protocols, then,” he grinned, “I thought ye were s’posed ta be keepin’ me oota trouble, no’ gettin’ me inta any.”

((OOC: Assuming some kind of explanation – “I’ve got a Vulcan Bar Brawl program I’ve been wanting to run… etc” …))

“Aye, lass,” he nodded, “I s’pose if I’m no’ gonna have much else t’do wi’ the rest o’ th’ day, a wee bit o’ R&R’ll do ta pass th’ time. I was plannin’ on a bit o’ time onna holodeck, meself, after th’ shift was done… thought mebbe I’d invite Lt Hemlos along’s well,” Jack flicked a glance at Tuvar as she rose from the chair to follow him to the door, “Ye gonna be stickin’ ‘round fer tha’ too?”

((OOC: Kay-o, Vesper… off to the holodeck we go… I’ll leave the scenario in your hands. Somewhere between Mac’s quarters and the holodeck, he’ll call Chantelle and invite her to meet him on the holodeck when her shift is done… I’ll PM you on this, LysKhala, and we can go from there. ))

Stadate: 2366.10.23 USS Discovery, Bridge – 0913
“Sir?” The ensign sitting called out tentatively, drawing Kelsey’s attention away from a report on power management that had just been delivered by digital courier to the captain’s chair arm.

“Yes?”

“I’m picking up a distress signal, bearing,” as the ensign relayed the coordinates, Commander Gavison leaned forward in the seat, placing both elbows on his knees.

“Can you give me anything more?” The commander felt his chest tighten.

“The signal is coming from a freighter… Ferengi, sir. I’m performing a long-range scan now.”

“Are there any other ships in the area?”

“Negative, sir,” the ensign’s voice was as tight as Kel’s chest. “I’m showing a clean sweep. There are life forms aboard the vessel. Three to be exact… “

“Take us to impulse.” Kelsey stood up and took a step forward, tugging at the bottom of his shirt as he did so. “On screen.”

The large display in front of them quickly lit up with the image of a long, rectangular vessel with wide panels above and below it. There were multiple places where some gas was draining away into the vacuum of space and the area surrounding the vessel was littered with debris.

“What’s leaking?” Kel asked.

(OOC: whoever is on the bridge who would handle that, please respond).

“All right. Yellow alert.” Kel returned to the captain’s seat and tapped his comm.. “Captain Blair, to the bridge please.”

They’d barely entered the system and they were already approaching what Kelsey thought could easily be a trap…

Stardate: 2366.10.22
USS Discovery– Holodeck 2; Deck 11 1452 hrs

As much as Tuvar’s idea of blowing off steam on the holodeck had appealed to him, Mac decided that as, things stood right now, running a program in which the security protocols had been deactivated probably wasn’t the wisest thing to do. Between last night’s altercation with Drummond and the information he had passed on about his own brother possibly being involved with a terrorist group known to be in operation around the Aldor system he knew that he was being closely scrutinized by not only Command but likely by medical and counseling, as well. In fact, it wouldn’t have surprised him at all if his clearances had been pared back “just in case.” Beside all of that, Tuvar had been personally tagged to keep an eye on him – which, as he interpreted the orders, meant that she was to ensure that the CTO didn’t get into any sort of trouble or do anything stupid – and, as much fun as it would have been to completely cut loose with the Vulcan SEC Chief, he couldn’t bring himself to accept her offer at the risk of getting her into trouble right along with him.

Et wouldnae do ta have us both unner th’ almighty eye, would et? Cap’n Blair’d jus’ love tha’… both ends o’ TAC/SC gettin’ roughed up onna holodeck when we’re less’n 72 hours oota Aldor an’ th’ threat o’ possible terrorist activity in th’ mix? No’ bloody likely ta go over well.
On top of that, as the day wore on, the fatigue had started to catch up with Jack and, even though he didn’t care to admit it, he was too wiped out, too out of focus, to trust himself in a situation like that – simulated or not. His mind was volleying thoughts of Ian against thoughts of Chantelle, now, and those thoughts, he knew, would serve to keep him of kilter just enough that one minor mistake with an unsecured sim could be the difference between a hell of a rush and an extended stay in Sick Bay.

“As intriguin’ as yer idea is, lass,” Jack had said to Tuvar on the turbolift between decks two and eleven, “I’m prob’ly no’ inna best o’ condition ta keep ya covered ef somethin’ should go wrong. Truth o’ th’ matter is tha’ all I really wanna do at th’ moment is mebbe see home…”

((OOC: Spot check, Vesper… if Tuvar really wants to get into something “dangerous” on the holodeck, feel free to talk Mac into it and we can run with something else. We can backpost anything that may occur, of course. Now, jumping forward a bit…))

Holodeck 2 – 1621 hrs

A cold breeze blew past Jack MacTavish as he stood, staring off in the direction of the snow dappled Braeriach, on the rocky ground of the Cairngorm Plateau. As bitter as that wind was, though, it seemed not to affect the Scot much. This very plateau – found originally in the Scottish Highlands of Earth – had been recreated during the terraforming of Caldos IV and, in his youth, Jack had often come to this very place to find some alone time. Even after he had left home for the Academy and, ultimately, found his career among the stars, he had taken this very program with him for those occasions when he needed the centering effect that the place had always had on him.

Unlike most of the other times he had found himself standing in the midst of this simulation, though, Jack wasn’t alone on the holodeck this time. Tuvar had wandered off into the holographic landscape a short time ago, granting him at least the illusion of being by himself with his thought, but he knew that the woman was close by. She’d been given her orders, after all, and being the quality officer that she was, the SEC Chief wasn’t likely to go against those orders for any reason. Jack wouldn’t have expected otherwise, of course, but he did appreciate that Tuvar had been willing to take herself out of arms reach and out of sight for a time. Chantelle would be arriving soon and, despite the fact that the entire ship was already aware of his relationship with the CSO, Jack just wouldn’t be comfortable having the personal discussion he had planned with her had Tuvar been hovering about like a mother hen.

Tuvar’d likely be a bit less’n comfortable wi’ tha’, too, Jack thought as he stooped down to pluck an egg-shaped stone from the rough ground at his feet. As he rose out of his crouched position, the snow streaked peaks of the Braeriach filled his vision again and he watched for a long moment, tossing and catching the smooth stone repeatedly, as the light of the setting sun filtered through the thick clouds as it started to dip below the crags.

His thoughts had turned to Ian, again, and as the rock was reclaimed by gravity and landed in the palm of Jack’s hand, he recalled the many times that he and his brother had stood in this very spot on Caldos IV and spent hours heaving pebbles at those distant mountains and arguing about whose stone had gotten the closest. A nostalgic smile crossed his lips as his fingers closed around the rock in his hand, then, and he caressed the cold surface of the thing as he squinted at the trio of peaks and picked a spot to play target for the soon-to-be projectile. He rolled the stone in his hand, finding the perfect grip on its surface and, as the bitter, early-winter wind blew once more across the Cairngorm, Jack drew back his arm and heaved the stone towards the Braeriach. The smile lingered on his lips as the rock arced through the air and finally plummeted back earthward, inducing a powdery plume from the ground as the tiny meteorite punched an impact crater into a patch of snow a respectable distance away – but still far short of the distant peaks. The smile, though, faded as the plume settled and dissipated; the realization that Ian’s toss wouldn’t be following his came over him and the only thing that would be following in the wake of Jack’s cast stone would be the half-hearted sigh that escaped from his lips.

The wind whipped passed him again, stroking frosty fingertips across the bare skin on his neck and inducing a bit of a shiver in the TAC Officer. The breeze hadn’t only brought the invigoration of the cold with it this time, though, it also carried with it the faint sound of the holodeck’s doors opening somewhere behind him and, soon after, wafted the faint scent of apples beneath his nose.

“H’lo, luv,” he sighed softly as he felt Chantelle’s hands feather across his sides as her arms wrapped around him and she rested her head against his back. As her fingers knitted together over his stomach, his own hands closed over hers; “I’ve missed ye t’day, lass. Missed ye somethin’ terrible.”

((OOC: There it is… backposting more or less caught up and this bit of the story is turned back over to LysKhala… If you want to, Fuby, we can collaborate on the rest of this convo and edit it in to this post when we’re finished (or you can post it, whichever way you’d prefer)… Now, off to catch up with Brom and the jump ahead ))

Stardate: 2366.10.23
Starship Speedwell – 0915 hours

“They’re here,” rasped the heavy-set human who currently manned the converted merchant vessel’s CONN panel, “Long range is picking up a distinctive Starfleet signature; bearing three-three-oh-mark-two-six. Jumped in system just minutes ago.”

“Brilliant,”replied the man who occupied the vessel’s captain’s chair, “right on schedule. Can ye gimme an ETA on an arrival ta Aldor V?”

“Not just yet, Ian,” the heavy helmsman replied, “looks like they’re checking out a disabled freighter just on the edge of the system. They’re in, but they ain’t movin’ this way.”

“An’ yer sure she’s the one we’re lookin’ for, Blake?”

“Sure as I’m sittin’ here,” Blake answered, “Same ship that picked up Milkens and our people from the Valmont. Galaxy class, U.S.S. Discovery. They sent a big one, Cap.”

Ian grinned and settled back into the chair. “Well, ye know what they say ‘bout that, lad,” he smirked, “the bigger they are…”

“…The harder they fall,” Blake finished with a chuckle. “If we play this right, Ian, we may get a bit more off this one than just the vaccine. Those Galaxies are stocked like nobody’s business.”

“Exactly what I was thinkin’, Blake. Now I know why I bring you along.” Ian MacTavish turned in his seat and glanced back over his shoulder at the Bolian manning the Speedwell’s communications terminal, “Bacha, anything from our insiders?”

“Just a quick ping from each of them as the Discovery came out of warp,” the young, blue-skinned woman answered, “No active communications as yet but… Oh, wait a minute… Looks like we’ve got something coming through from Coffin. Stand by, I’ll decrypt it.”

Coffin, Coffin, Ian repeated the name to himself trying to put a face and an assignment to the moniker, Ah, right, the lass we sleazed into their security forces. “Nothing from those we’ve got inna sciences or engineerin’ though, eh?”

“Nope, not a word as yet… Wellll,” Bacha seemed intrigued by whatever it was she had just decoded from Coffin’s transmission, “that’s interesting. Looks like you share a name with the CTO on this boat, Ian. Lt Jack MacTavish. Sound familiar?”

The expression that crossed Ian’s face at that moment was an odd mix of shock, amusement, malice, and, possibly – though no one on the bridge of the Speedwell would ever dare to mention it – a slight tinge of fear. He turned in his seat and glared at the bolian for a second, then, as a sinister smile pulled his lips away from his teeth and his hands relaxed their grip on the arms of the chair, he nodded. “Aye, lass,” he said almost chuckling at the irony of the situation, “I know the name, very well. Very well, indeed.”

Ian suddenly found himself making minor adjustments to his already well-plotted scheme in order to account for this unexpected bit of intelligence and, by the time he swiveled the captain’s chair back around to face Blake and the CONN panel, had also figured a way to kill two birds with one stone, as the old saying goes. “Bacha, send Coffin an addendum to her assignment. I need everything the girl can get me on that TAC officer; I don’t care how minor it might seem.”

“Anything you want to share, Ian,” the bolian asked, already prepping the transmission, “you’re not planning a tangent here, are you?”

“Just do it, lass,” Ian ordered as he sank back into the chair and rubbed thoughtfully at his chin, “Once Coffin checks back in, I let ye know… Get some pings out to the rest, as well. Let ‘em know that we’re proceedin’ as scheduled but to be on their toes, just in case. I want a report from them in sciences before that Fed ship gets too much further in system, too.”

Bacha nodded in resignation; “It’s your op, Ian,” she said, busily composing and encrypting the transmissions to the BTF operatives aboard the Discovery, “I just hope whatever’s going on in your head doesn’t compromise it… The council doesn’t want the ball dropped on this one.”

“I said,” Ian growled, “dinnae bloody worry aboot it!” He slammed a fist angrily on the arm of his chair, evoking a strangled beep from the built in console. “The council’s got nothin’ to worry about… it’s the bastards aboard that ship that’ve gotta be concerned.”

“I think ye were more right than ye knew, Blake,” he grinned wolfishly as he rose from his seat and clapped a hand on the burly helmsman’s shoulder, “We’re gonna get much more outta this one than what we came for.

I’ll be in my cabin,” the Caldosian captain of the Speedwell advised his bridge crew as he strode for the hatch, “I want reports from our people on that scow the very minute they come in.”


((OOC: And there ya have it... the first post from "the other side"... anyone who wants to pick up on one of the numerous "subversives" we've got aboard Discovery can feel free... I've already hi-jacked SilentOne's Coffin character from security... we've got at least one in sciences and apparently at least one in ENG... are there more? ))

USS Discovery
Xenobotany Lab

Roger Whitetail finally got away from Leanna and had a few minutes while she was briefing Keely to transmit a message:

"Ian, it's Roger, reporting in as requested. Everything is in place. I can't talk long because I am being closely monitored as of late. Just know that I am awaiting the signal and all is ready on my end. Out."

Just as Leanna made her way back to the rstation they had been working at Roger had finished submitting his encoded message along with the data he had been asked to collect on the behalf of his true employers. He made himself appear busy scanning a root just as she returned to join him. He smiled innocently at her as she began her scans, completely unaware of his true intentions.

Stadate: 2366.10.23 USS Discovery, Bridge – 0925
“I want a full compliment on this away mission.” Kelsey was busy strapping on the phaser as he spoke. “Three different teams to provide the sweep.” He looked up from his waistline and faced Jack. He could tell that the 2O wasn’t at all pleased with Commander Gavison’s decision that he should remain behind, but in this situation, and with the information that had come to light earlier, Kel wasn’t taking any chances: not with an officer of his crew, and not with the slim chance that they might run into McTavish’s errant brother. “Look, Jack, if it is a trap and there are terrorists waiting for us on board that frigate, then we don’t want to risk them boarding without some security. Captain Blair has the bridge, but I need you there as well.”

Kelsey turned away from Mac before the man could respond and scanned the other members of his team. They’d be the first to transport over. The other two would be prepped as soon as Jack formed the teams. For this team, Kel had chosen Lt. Rrowl, Ensign Propst from engineering, Ensign Hails and Ensign Green from security, as well as Lt. Comdr. Waldgrave. They stood before him now outfitted with type one phasers and tricorders.

“All right team,” Kel addressed them now, allowing Jack to go about his duties. “Out objective is to determine if there are any survivors and to secure the captain’s log. If we can, I want to stop that leak—“ The commander looked directly at Katrina. “And possibly determine specifics concerning the attack.

“We’re going in careful and slow; there’s no hurry, and I don’t want anyone proceeding more than ten feet with a thorough scan for booby traps. Understood?”

With nods all around, Kel motioned everyone up on the pad and then turned to face the ensign on duty. “Go.”

(OOC: trying to breathe some life into this again. Feel free to post follow ups, interruptions to the discourse, etc.)