RPG.avioc.org

Stonn stepped out into the sunshine of the plaza. He had been inside this Starfleet administration building since their return to Earth two weeks prior, but now he was done. He had not been alone. The entire officer corps of the Columbia had been summoned to the San Francisco Starfleet Headquarters to be de-briefed.

The U.S.S. Columbia had spent the better part of the last year on a secret mission to the Wedge - the area of space between Romulan and Klingon space. The ship had been afixed with special equipment to aid it in its mission by reducing its profile making it stealthy. It also had had an extremely powerful sensor suite that gave it the ability to tranist in almost absolute silence without loosing its eyes and ears.

All that was history now, as the ship had limped back to Federation space after an incursion into Klingon space in an attempt to stop a Klingon coup d'etat and a potential re-initiation of the Federation/Klingon conflict. They had been successful. The crew had stopped a Romulan vessel that had been built to look like a Federation Constitution-class vessel and was to make attacks within Klingon space, thus implicating the Federation. Fortunately the Columbia had also saved a Klingon captain named Vrang of the Bor-Klah and a few of his officers.

Upon their arrival home, and after their debrief, things had gotten strange. Stonn remembered how the Klingons were ushered away in silence and literally had disappeared. No one knew of them being on Earth - only those diplomats from Qo'nos were spoken of and they were currently in fierce debate with the Starfleet Council regarding Captain James T. Kirk. Stonn knew the legend of the captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise and he and his crew's great successes. It seemed to the Vulcan that the small eruption of fighting along the Klingon Neutral Zone was completely forgotten about here on Earth, and the Klingon's were ranting on about a new deadly weapon developed by the Federation. It all seemed illogical.

Stonn's second eyelids, a trait of his Vulcan heritage, aided in reducing the glare from the bright sunlight in the plaza. He watched as Jess and Grahm passed him with a quiet nod. A few moments later came the Trill, Tam; chief medical officer of the Columbia. They all were somewhat puzzled by how everything had turned out.

Captain Steven Darkan and his crew were given commendations in thier efforts to quell the potential Klingon civil war. Then of a sudden, word came to them all that a tribunal had been commissioned to investigate the Columbia's breaking of Federation/Klingon law by crossing the Neutral Zone. All of the officers were called back to San Francisco and were once more debriefed, or perhaps it was interrogated. It was then, before the tribunal, that Darkan requested that his officers be released from any further investigation. He was taking full responsibility for the actions of the U.S.S. Columbia and no officer below him should be held accountable. To Stonn's surprise, the tribunal agreed and restored all of the Columbia's personnel back to operating status, save Darkan. Stonn now stood outside the building where his captain was being tried and most certainly losing his commission.

The Vulcan remembered the drink that they had had two nights prior. Darkan had quietly spoken, "Stonn... their just running through procedure. It is all a show. I am sure that when it is done, and things quiet down, I will be restored to active duty... but there is no sense in all of you being held up by this. You are a fine officer, and we had a fine crew... you all need to be out there doing what you do best. So, don't fight me on this, okay?"

Stonn did not. Now, with new orders in hand still within a sealed envelope, the Vulcan silenced his thoughts of what had been and made his way to a place that wasn't so trafficked by administrative Starfleet personnel. He found a bench that sat under a tree in the small park that was set in the center of the picturesque Starfleet campus. He broke the seal and pulled out his orders.

Quote|| TO: COMMANDER STONN
|| FROM: STARFLEET COMMAND - ADM DEVEREAUX
|| STARDATE: 9667.2

////EYES ONLY////

COMMANDER STONN, YOU ARE TO REPORT TO THE USS COLUMBIA NCC-1830 WHERE YOU WILL TAKE COMMAND AS CAPTAIN. NEW CREW ASSIGNMENTS TO FOLLOW. ORDERS TO FOLLOW AFTER REPAIRS COMPLETE AND SHAKEDOWN IS PERFORMED.

ADM DEVEREAUX

The Vulcan lifted one eyebrow as he read the orders. Due to his people's art of controlling emotions, he made no other apparent sign of how his career with Starfleet had just changed save to say, "Interesting."

---

:ooc: This game is not yet starting. I have only posted the initial prologue to give all players a quick idea of what is going on. More to follow as we have the new crew members drawn up and old members advanced.

If there are any questions, let me know (via PM or post in the Star Trek thread under General Discussion).

It was a half hour before Stonn could get the next shuttle up to high Earth orbit, where the Columbia was currently drydocked. He collected the few personal things he had brought planetside and made his way to the shuttle launch. When he arrived, he saw some familiar faces, all carrying dufflebags full of their own possessions. The officer crew of the Columbia was returning to their ship.

Stonn let Grahm and Townshend enter first, then followed by Tam. He then entered and made room for the rest - Pushkin, Ramos and a Vulcan that no one had seen before. The shuttle pod was a bit cramped with everyone, but no one made any complaints. For most, the thought of their captain being left behind on Earth to face the tribunal alone filled their minds. Each wondered who the new captain would be and if they were even still assigned to the ship. Stonn, of course, knew the answers to most of their thoughts, but he did not yet share any of the orders that had come down from Admiral Deveraux.

It was Tam that broke the silence, as the shuttle pod lifted off with a shake. "I want to let you all know that I have been re-assigned. I am returning to the Columbia for one more trip... back to my homeworld of Trill. It seems that the officer exchange is revolving in a new set of officers from both our worlds and one will be taking my place. I don't know if any will be assigned to the ship, but you never know. I also would like to add that it was a pleasure to serve with you all - through good and bad. We were really put to the challenge and I think we came through pretty good... except for a bump or two." The doctor rubbed his head and laughed a bit, jesting over the concussion and coma that he had barely survived in their battle with the Romulans. His friends and fellow crewmen also smiled and laughed, but it was bittersweet. In truth, the Columbia had lost over fifty of its crew in that battle, and the laughter that they shared was healing. As officers, none would forget the lives that were lost in service to the Fleet, under their command, but they knew that they must let go of any fears and doubts. The laughter helped with that.

There was an awkward silence that Tam had not intended on creating, but Stonn put an end to it with his monotone voice, "Ms. Townshend, when we arrive on the Columbia, I would like you to call a meeting of all senior officer staff to the main briefing room on deck two."

"Yes, sir," replied Jess. She thought Stonn's request a bit moot, seeing as most of the ship's remaining officers were on the pod, but she said nothing.


The shuttle broke through the Earth's thermosphere and began to make a sweeping turn. Out the front viewscreen, Earth Starbase could be seen just beginning to drop over the horizon and when the pod had completed its turn, the crew could see where day was giving way to night in North America.

The trip continued for another twenty minutes until at long last the massive drydock appeared, glinting in the light of the sun. Within its mesh, the Columbia hung moored there with both tractor beams and mooring cables. As they fast approached, the crew could see where great palettes of the ship's skin was removed and suspended above the main body, while crews in EVA suits and workerbee shuttles made finishing repairs. The Columbia had been in drydock now for over ten weeks, going through refits, repairs, and removal of equipment from its previous mission.

This was home to some of those aboard the pod; for others it was a ride home; and for a few it was a quick stop before they were off on new adventures of their own.

Grahm thought the Miranda-class a sleek vessel and the Columbia had server her crew well. Yes, some of his shipmates had not come home from their previous mission, but still the ship had fought well. Now with her superstructure re-engineered and systems repaired, she looked ready to take once more to the heavens. He hoped that he would be able to be part of her next journey.

The shuttle passed over the dorsal side of the great saucer and the crew saw the huge bold letters NC-1830 U.S.S. COLUMBIA just before her bridge dome. The ship's running lights were not yet lit, but still the insignia was plainly visible underneath the spacedock assembly frame's massive lights. Pushkin could see where the plasma scoring had been cleaned away and fresh new navy gray paint covered the hull. The small shuttle pod then went left, passing over the glowing bridge dome and then the starboard phaser array. The saucer disappeared beneath and the pod dropped down, reversing course as it did coming under the ventral side of the Columbia.


The crewmembers could see the yawning doors of docking port 4 wide open and the docking collar well lit for the pilot to navigate. The matter was irrelevant as a voice came over the speaker of the pod, "Shuttle Pod 223, we have your approach now and have taken over remote command. Sit back and enjoy the ride." The pilot leaned back from his console as the Columbia took over navigation of the small pod which shook slightly as tractor beams also locked on. The view changed again when the shuttle was turned around 180 degrees, then slowly it was drawn back into the docking port until its collar mated with the Columbia. There was another shudder, a cessation of movement, lights blinked green and then a hiss of air.

The pod doors opened and the crew stepped onto the bustling deck 8 of the Columbia. Mr. Stonn looked to the crew, "I will see you all in the briefing room once you have taken your personals to your quarters and have settled in." The senior officer staff nodded a confirmation and each moved off on their own course. Behind all, the pod doors shut and outside the mammoth doors slid closed leaving only their outline as evidence of their presence. The Columbia's hull was now completely 'buttoned up' and she was ready to be released from her drydock. The ship would need to be run out to assure there were no major issues that could not be taken care of in deep space. Otherwise, except to take on any new crew, she was ready.

Dylan closed his eyes and leaned back into his shuttle seat as the craft glided over the hull of the Columbia. At last, a Starfleet posting again! His brief career began seven years ago with an assignment straight out of the Academy to the newly refitted USS Yorktown, a Constitution Class heavy crusier (NCC-1717) captained by Joel Randolph. That ship's saucer gleamed the same way as he boarded it in drydock near the end of its maintenance cycle. His two fellow cadets beamed with pride as he did at their prestigous posting, though he knew the First Officer's family had vast and varied business interests on his home planet of Deneva. Dylan's family, the Downers, could trace a storied political dynasty back near four hundred years on Earth in Australia, to the foundation of the United Federation of Planets, to his own parents which were labor leaders on the long-established Deneva colony.

His Academy days were filled with hints at the power and position that awaited him if he provided favor to the simmering underbelly of corruption that gripped parts of Starfleet. Deneva's position as a safe crossroads between Klingon and Romulan space made some covet his family's influence. He had long swore off any interest in politics though, and sought escape in Starfleet. He was tactful and careful enough to sidestep any ties, though it cast the rising star that placed him in such a grand first deployment into a precipitous fall. Especially with the disastrous result of the Yorktown's first mission...

That was the past though and the previous five years as a Starfleet liason officer aboard the S.S. Silver Isle, a Class III Tanker converted to a passenger liner, made this posting to the Columbia that much more sweet. This post was earned and he was determined that nobody would pull his strings again.

:ooc: Excellent intro Don! I will have more to add tonight.

Lieutenant Downer stepped from the large Aladdin-class shuttle that had just transported him to the Columbia from Earth Starbase. He had spent the last week and a half within the massive facility waiting for his orders and was quite pleased when he received the PADD. Dylan had watched as the Silver Isle departed Earth's orbit for a destination of its own, leaving him to his new adventure.

Now he was here. The huge hangar within the Miranda-class vessel was bustling with activity. Yellow lights flashed overhead as repulsor-lifts moved different stores of supplies that had been onloaded to the Columbia. He dodged out of the way of crewmen and machines until finally he made it to the exit door. Standing there was an operations ensign with a PADD in his hand observing the seeming chaos within the hangar. He saw Downer looking at him and went somewhat rigid when he saw Dylan's rank. "Sir! Welcome aboard the U.S.S. Columbia."

Dylan gave a nod in acknowledgement and asked, "Ensign, where is the ship's commanding officer?"

The Ensign gave a blank stare back, looked down at his PADD, and replied, "I apologize, sir, but I do not know who the commanding officer of the ship is yet. Captain Darkan was relieved upon our arrival and Starfleet Command has not yet signalled us... I do know that Commander Stonn, the XO, is on board and he has ordered all senior officer staff to the briefing room on Deck 2. Sir."

Dylan thanked the young man and left the chill of the flight deck behind him. "Deck 2," he said when he entered the turbolift. It was the best place to start.

Sorek had not gone unnoticed on the shuttlepod ride up to the Columbia. His fellow Vulcan, Stonn, had given him a nod, though the other officers seemed tied up in their thoughts. Humans. They were always so involved with the immediate, never relaxing and letting their minds dissect the many influences that were going on around them. The science officer knew that Stonn had been amongst this crew for most of a year and he wondered how he handled his emotional colleagues.

The Vulcan had not said a word to anyone as they departed the pod. He checked his PADD to see his quarters assignment, made his way there to unload his belongings, and then went to the turbolift. As the doors opened, he saw a brown-haired man standing there with a duffelbag at his feet. The man was wearing insignia of operations and communications on his dress uniform and Sorek could see he was a lieutenant.

"Going to Deck 2," said Downer to the Vulcan that entered his lift. "That is my destination as well," replied Sorek. And so, the Columbia's two new officers rode together the remaining way in silence. The turbolifts doors opened with a hiss and they followed the corridor around until they saw the briefing room entrance. Upon entering, the two officers saw the other senior officer staff sitting around the table chatting quietly. They took seats of their own and began to make acquaintances with their fellow shipmates. The process was interrupted five minutes later as Mr. Stonn and Mr. Ramos entered the room.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Stonn calling the room to order. It sounded a strange greeting from the emotionless voice, but the room quieted down. The chief engineer found himself a seat, as Stonn continued, "We have a lot to do so I will not take unnecessary time from you. First let me start by saying by order of Starfleet Command, I have been given command of the U.S.S. Columbia." There was a chorus of soft congratulations that Stonn quickly dismissed as unnecessary. "Second our ship has gone through a refit and removal of highly confidential equipment. Mr. Ramos and his staff have been hard at work getting the ship back together and we have been given the green light to perform a few trials before we leave for our new duty station. Before we depart, there are some staff re-assignments most of which you are aware of within your departments, but also some of you have been given new orders. Dr. Tam, as he announced earlier, has been ordered back to his homeworld and the Columbia shall be taking him home, as that is the direction of our next mission. Also, Jess Townshend, you have been ordered to Earth Spacedock prior to our departure where you shall be receiving your new assignment."

John and Jess both looked at each other with the announcement. They knew something like this might happen to one of them, but it did not make the moment any easier. Still, they were officers and so did nothing more than quietly nod at one another.

Stonn's voice filled the room again, "Our new ship's doctor has not yet reported in, but we understand that he is on his way." The Vulcan captain then looked to the new arrivals, "Lt. Townshend, your replacement is Mr. Downer, here. Please go over all departmental information that you feel necessary before you depart. Our other new officer is Sorek, he will be taking my position as ship's Science Officer." Stonn looked around him, "That is all for now... if there are no questions, we have our tasks before us."

Grahm looked on as the room began to animate and the officer staff began to collect their things. So, Stonn was captain. The Tactical Officer was not sure how he felt about that. John always thought a captain needed to be able to make any command decision at any time, even if it defied logic. He hoped that their new commanding officer would not be constrained by the philosophies upon which he followed. With these thoughts left behind, Grahm went over to Jess and walked her out of the briefing room. He wanted to spend as much time with her as he possibly could before they were sent on their own ways. He promised himself that no matter what, he would see this relationship flourish... after all, he had fallen madly in love with her.

Sorek remained seated for a minute longer his human heritage wanting him to ask for traditional greetings and for him to get to know the rest of the crew.  However he blinked his eyes a couple of times and eventually realized that logically he would get to know the crew in time and that would be more efficient.

He stood up as the rest of the apparent officers had done and made his way over to the turbolift, stepping in he went to the bridge and decided that it would be best for him to familiarize himself with the science section of the bridge before the ship left the spacedock.  On the way there he couldn't help but think that Stonn had used a rather peculiar method of introduction for a Vulcan.  If the commanding officer of this vessel is using emotional greetings it might be best if I try to, but it's illogical to do so.  He thought as he waited for the turboloift to arrive at the bridge.

Dylan sat through the briefing with composure, nodding and acknowledging those named with practiced tact while he scrutinized faces. Years of obligations in a political family put him at ease in these situations and he idly made small talk before the announcements began. Some of the information seemed to be newly revealed and he studied the reactions of the existing crew as the details were laid out.  His mind drifted back...

2279, Briefing Room, USS Yorktown...Rear Admiral Cartwright had just finished pinning the Captain insignia on the shoulder epaulette of Joel Randolph, the newly appointed Captain of the Yorktown. The ship's officers crowded in ranks, sharply dressed in the new style of uniform that had just come into fashion. Dylan and his fellow cadets smartly saluted after receiving their Ensign pins, the simple bars that marked them as Officer Cadets with no real standing within Starfleet were forever gone. Speeches and acknowledgements were made before the ceremony broke for refreshments. Dylan met with his section head and a lieutenant in engineering who would be supervising his post at the secondary controls deep in the ship's bowels. They espoused the advanced and cutting edge mission ops systems the refit had brought in, though Dylan had thoroughly briefed himself on the changes. He listened politely and asked the proper questions - these two seemed capable enough and well-versed in their duties. He confirmed his first watch rotation and he even wrangled a preliminary job shadow for later in the day. Dylan recognized the First Officer's raised glass from across the room with a nod. A slight uneasiness gripped his stomach at what the future might hold, but he had marked the First Officer as a military man through and through and thought he could easily maneuver around his forthcoming requests without promising too much. The man clearly thought his family could influence matters on Deneva with far greater ease than in truth and that his own influence with his parent's decisions was far greater than it actually was. Yes, these entanglements would have to be managed, but he was confident in his ability to navigate the rough waters ahead. He turned to see a familiar face, Lt.(j.g.) Valeris, an upperclassmen two years ahead of him who had been the first Vulcan to graduate the Academy at the head of her class. She returned his salute with a cool smile and congratulated him on his first posting. She reminded him of the prestige and honor of serving on the Yorktown, asked idly about some old instructors and excused herself to talk with Rear Admiral Cartwright before he departed. Dylan was suitably impressed. There was a lady with big events in her future...

..."Also, Jess Townshend, you have been ordered to Earth Spacedock prior to our departure where you shall be receiving your new assignment." Reassigned? Dylan thought Lt. Townsend was pegged for promotion, not a reassignment. Perhaps he hadn't assessed the mood of the ship as clearly as he had thought. As the meeting broke, Dylan made his way over to her, "Lt. Towshend, best wishes in your new posting. I was hoping you could debrief me on some of the new systems and procedures you have in place before you ship out. Anything you could pass along would be greatly appreciated...Commander Grahm." Dylan saluted smartly as the Tac Officer approached and excused himself. Something was going on there too. Yes, he had misjudged some things about this assignment. He had known since a child that information was power and the little bits he discovered today would be filed away to be fit together once he knew the crew's history a little better.

Doc Sherman ran a hand through his messy white hair and leaned back against the bulkhead of the shuttle. He was alone, most of the senior staff having already arrived at their new assignment on the USS Columbia. He didn't bother looking out the portal. Doc had been reassigned so many times now that every new ship looked the same as the last. Long ago he had lost the feeling of wonder at seeing the giant Federation vessels from the outside.

The last assignment had not gone well. The young captain had done everything by the book, and had little tolerance for Doc's unconventional, but effective approach to medicine. "Kids", he blurted out to the empty passenger cabin. "This fleet is run by damn children." For a moment he thought of his own daughter, an administrator within the fleet. Shaking his head, Doc realized that she may even have been responsible for this last minute reassignment, to get him away from Earth, and her, as quickly as possible.

After an uneventful docking, the airlock slid open to reveal a young ensign waiting beyond. "The senior staff are meeting, sir. I will take you to them, but you have arrived late." Doc knew the 'sir' wasn't out of respect for his rank, but simply an acknowledgement of his age. While waiting for the medical officer to collect his dufflebag, the ensign could not conceal his look of disdain at the non-regulation white laboratory coat that Doc wore over his uniform. Emphatically stuffing a medical tricorder into a pocket of the coat, Doc blurted out "These new uniforms don't have any pockets. How can I be a doctor if I don't have any damn pockets!". Without a response, the ensign turned and headed down the hall.

"Kids", Doc muttered as he followed the ensign into his new home.

Jess turned to the man that was taking her position on the bridge of the Columbia, then quickly glanced back at Grahm with a sad hint to her eyes. "Yes, of course I can. Give me a second and I will take you up to the bridge." She looked back at John and the Tactical Officer smiled saying, "Don't worry... I will find you before you transport out." John Grahm turned from the two operations officers and went about his duties - getting busy helped to keep his thoughts away from Townshend's departure.

The Columbia's fomer Ops officer led Dylan up the stairwell and onto the bridge. Once there, Jess proceeded to go through her station with him, showing him crew itineraries, ship's power distribution, communications, and transporter activity.

Still on Deck 2, Stonn stood outside the briefing room quietly watching as his staff left and went about their jobs. It was then that an ensign, followed by a white-haired older man exited the turbolift and then came walking up. The Vulcan knew by the description that this was his ship's new doctor.

---

:ooc: All right, that is all I really have for the game prologue. I will be posting the first game thread sometime tomorrow, but feel free to RP your characters and interact. I will chime in with any NPC answers.

Shawn, sorry for the takeover of Stonn throughout this post but I wanted to set the scene. Feel free to pick up here and meet your CMO.

Dylan paused a moment as he entered the newly refurbished bridge. The cleanness of the lines and the sense of efficiency permeated the space, even though the ship was not yet underway and only a skeleton crew performed last minute checks and diagnostics. Too many of the past years were spent on a merchant marine vessel with the lack of discipline and colorful characters that went with it. He quickened his pace to fall into step with Lt. Townshend and followed closely as she broke down the station and routines. A few inefficiencies he could tweak later, but all-in-all it was well run and managed. He discussed some of the changes the refit brought, having only seen the literature on the new capabilities. But that was something he could dive into during the runout. He was curious about some things before Jess Townshend left the ship.

Being tactful and careful not to pry into something that would stir an emotional response in her, he asked offhandedly during their technical discussion, "From all reports the Columbia had a successful mission. There seems to be quite the turnover in crew. Is there as much of a change in the enlisted ranks as for the officers? I'd like to know how green the sections are. Any ideas why the ship was given such a shakedown?"...

---

2279 - USS Yorktown, Engineering-Secondary controls - Dylan's first few shifts were busy as he tried to absorb the scope of his duties under the watchful eye of the duty engineer, Lt. Talbot. He was a rare officer who rose from the enlisted ranks and had been posted on Constitution-class vessels since their initial launch. He would never rise higher than Lieutenant, but the respect and trust afforded him went in both directions up and down the ranks. He was demanding, but cool and efficient and tested Dylan daily with mock situations that seemed impossible to imagine let alone ever actually happening. He would always calmly break down where Dylan needed to improve and what could have been done better. The initial chagrin of being tested quickly gave way to gratitude for the pace he was learning and being prepared. He realized Lt. Talbot saw something in him worth spending time on and began spending some of his downtime trying to puzzle out what might be thrown at him next. Yes, task-wise, life aboard the Yorktown was more than he had hoped for. The Yorktown's first mission was an inspection of the antenna relays, Echo 1, 2 and 3 in the Beta quadrant. The circuitous route would take them to Sirius, Vulcan, Orion and, ultimately, Deneva. Dylan had not been home in some years, dating to when he joined Starfleet, and the prospect of shore leave was unsettling for some reason. More unsettling was his misread of the First Officer, Cmdr. Blake. He had thought him simple and opportunistic in his attempts to curry favor, but soon saw he had tendrils in many members of the crew. Dylan's scope was limited to Engineering and the off-duty decks, he was so busy he had little time for much else, but the First Officer seemed ubiquitous and locked in private conversations with all manner of crew encompassing the full spectrum of rank and task. It might be the mark of a man efficient at his job, but Dylan marked the effect these conversations had on the crewmembers. Even Lt. Talbot would grow tight-lipped and perspire after being called aside by the Commander. It wasn't long before Dylan heard whispers of crewmen who had asked for a transfer to a lesser vessel because of the First Officer, but such snippets needed to be pieced together and any details only alluded too. Which was why Dylan's hackles were raised when he got the dispatch to dine in the Commander's quarters one evening...

While the Columbia was buzzing with excitement, as returning crewmembers roamed the halls and new ones stumbled about them for the first time, Juan Ramos was exhausted.

Unlike so many of his shipmates, Ramos didn't have much time away during the refit - as Chief Engineer, it was his duty to be present and oversee the Columbia's repair and restoration - and it was far more taxing and time-consuming than normal starship duty.

But the ship was ready, Ramos was certain of that, and he had taken the liberty of beaming down for a few days last week to see his mother in Barcelona. She was as hearty as ever despite her advancing age, and Juan enjoyed being able to spend some time with his familia again; it had been too long.

Walking the streets of Barcelona and admiring its legendary architecture had always inspired Juan as a youth, and he was pleased to find that it still did. On a sun-dappled day, passing by Gaudi's iconic Casa Milà, and looking across the square to his masterwork, the city's famed Sagrada Família, Ramos found that the now-360-year-old structures still awed him; the first with its stout curvatures and the latter with its soaring spires, defying gravity and now time itself.

He always found the same breathtaking beauty in starship designs, and when he returned to the Columbia (with some authentic Spanish wine in tow, of course - Madre insisted), he remembered how proud he was to have the job that he did.

Even though he was exhausted.

Stonn was... relieved that his self-introduction as captain had gone by without incident. He had not expected any, of course - Starfleet officers were professionals - but the circumstances of Captain Darkan's removal were unusual, and he assumed that many of the crew had questions about it. Unfortunately, he was in no position to answer them.

Stonn had not sought command, but it had been thrust upon him, and he would perform the role to the best of his ability. Challenges lay ahead for him, he knew that; even though he had become accustomed to working with humans, he was not human and did not think like one. He knew that humans needed emotional support from their captain from time to time and wondered how he would meet that particular challenge. Such situations cannot be predicted, he surmised, and so logic dictated that he put those notions aside for now - he had more pressing matters to attend to.

Stonn thought it advantageous that the Columbia was seeing so much turnover among the crew; while ordinarily, many ship commanders saw this as a negative, he saw it as an opportunity to start anew. The Columbia's previous mission was a disjointed one, shrouded in secrecy that had still not been completely unveiled. Perhaps it was best to gain fresh perspective. Stonn thought so, at least.

He had been in contact with Lt. Cdr. Ramos, who had assured him that the Columbia was ready for flight. Ramos didn't seem to have any reservations about Stonn's promotion, which he deemed unusual; many humans found it difficult to serve under Vulcans. Perhaps Ramos, whose mechanically-oriented mind was necessarily driven by logic, found it to be less... intimidating. Nevertheless, Stonn was satisfied that his working relationship with his Chief Engineer would be a productive one.

He had hoped that the new ship's doctor would also be driven by logic, as many diagnosticians were. Those hopes were dashed when he saw him...

"Doctor Sherman," Stonn said flatly as he walked to greet him. "Welcome to the Columbia. I trust you have found Sickbay equipped to your satisfaction?" He would mention the uniform code later. Perhaps the doctor had not had time to properly settle into his quarters. Stonn posited that this was his first command opportunity to be... flexible.

:ooc: Nice posts, Shawn. I have to say, you RP a Vulcan much better than I. You are able to capture the un-human-ness very well. Glad it's you playing him and not me!  ;)

John walked through the doors to transporter room 2 and saw Jess sitting there in the lounge. At her feet were all of her personals that she had kept on the ship. The two gave each other a wan smile. It was hard to believe that they would no longer be serving together on the Columbia.

All personnel, save Townshend had been transported off of the ship in one fashion or another, and now it was time for Jess to go. Earth Spacedock had made its circuit of the planet and was rising over the eastern horizon, so she could now be easily transported to the station. For both Jess and John it seemed to soon. They both would give another day, week, month, before they wanted this time to come. But it was here and the Columbia was in midst of unsecuring from its moorings.

Townshend gave Grahm a long hug and they kissed. It was one of only a few that they had shared so far. John spoke, "I'll be seeing you soon, okay?" Jess nodded and her eyes began to well with tears. The tactical officer smiled, as he swallowed hard, "Don't forget me, okay?" To that Jess laughed, "Don't you forget me neither."

"Never," was all John could muster. He knew that they would be together, but first he and his assigned ship had a duty and so he let her go. Townshend backed away and they grabbed up her things. They walked them into the transporter room and set her bags on one pad, while Jess took the one just next to it. They heard the transporter tech speak to an unknown, far away on the station, "Earth Spacedock, one to beam over." An unattached voice replied, "Columbia, we are ready to receive Lt. Townshend."

Grahm stepped back from the transporter area and Jess smiled and gave him a wave. Suddenly the loud whine of the machine was heard and Townshend began to dematerialize in a sparkle of energy.

Then she was gone.

Grahm breathed in deep, adjusted his uniform tunic, and turned away from the transporter pads. Without a word to the staring transporter techs, he strode from the room and walked towards the turbolift. They were now ready. It was time to go.

Quote from: sdrotar on Feb 13, 2010, 03:10 AM
He had hoped that the new ship's doctor would also be driven by logic, as many diagnosticians were. Those hopes were dashed when he saw him...

"Doctor Sherman," Stonn said flatly as he walked to greet him. "Welcome to the Columbia. I trust you have found Sickbay equipped to your satisfaction?" He would mention the uniform code later. Perhaps the doctor had not had time to properly settle into his quarters. Stonn posited that this was his first command opportunity to be... flexible.

Oh Lord, a Vulcan ... Dropping his dufflebag to the deck, Sherman saluted his new captain awkwardly, never really understanding the need for the formality of greeting other officers. "Well, to be honest I haven't seen sickbay yet. This young fellow was bringing me to the meet an' greet but I seem to have missed that." The doctor appeared to be sizing up Stonn, but the fact that he was a Vulcan had clearly thrown him for a loop. "I guess I should stow my gear, then, and we can check in with each other later." Turning to the ensign, Sherman continued "If you could take me to sickbay, I'll take it from there." Another awkward salute, and he followed the ensign back to the turbo lift. This is going to be an interesting assignment ...

"Kids and Vulcans", Doc muttered under his breath as the lift doors slid shut.

:ooc: Howdy all, sorry to be slow getting going here - I got totally caught up in the Olympics last night and today. Getting our first gold medal on home turf is a pretty big deal here. My office is right in downtown Vancouver where it is a total zoo right now. Thankfully I can do most of my work from home (and I'll be able to post more game stuff tomorrow). - Cheers, Brian

USS Yorktown - 2279, Day 7, off-hours - It was with trepidation that Dylan prepared for the private meal with Cmdr. Blake. Normally he was able to negotiate his way through these situations without entanglements, but he felt he had misjudged the Commander. The way he had cowed much of the crew spoke to his tenacity and to his slipperiness. How had he got his tendrils in so deep and yet never have been checked? Dylan thought of dozens of excuses as the hours drew near, yet found himself smartly in his dress uniform outside the quarters of the Commander at the prescribed time. His finger hovered fatefully over the call button, before pressing it with a sigh. A quick call of enter and the door slid open with a hiss for Dylan. The Commander's quarters were spacious and unlike what he would have suspected. Large leafy plants broke up the room and art objects and neatly organized shelves of books were scattered throughout. To Dylan's mostly untrained eye they were all of good quality and covered a broad spectrum of interests and taste. Cmdr Blake was casually dressed and lounging near a holovid fire reading through briefing reports. He smiled at Dylan and looked less menacing out of uniform and within the confines of his lair. It seemed to raise Dylan's hackles all the more. "Punctual and respectfully dressed. Well done Ensign Downer, you have already confirmed much of what I thought about you." Further pleasantries were exchanged, Saurian brandy offered, and a meal delivered by an enlisted crewmember. Cmdr. Blake enquired about how Dylan was settling, how he found the ship, the honor of serving on the Yorktown and their mission over the days and weeks ahead. The meal was a rare Capellan delicacy that Dylan had only seen once before and certainly had never tried nor suspected such could be obtained on the starship. Talk turned to Denevian politics and Cmdr. Blake became very sharp, testing Dylan with questions of his opinion on various issues in the past. His command of the history and his understanding of the intricacies of the behind-the-scenes workings of the colonial government far surpassed Dylan's. Conversation turned to recent events and current labor troubles amongst some of the biggest manufacturers and raw material suppliers on the planet. It became clear that the Commander's family was a very large silent partner in many of these, a shadow conglomerate that pulled the strings of the bulk of industry on the planet. Dylan began to feel more and more cornered as Cmdr. Blake continued discussing things over drinks, as another crewman had come to remove the dinner implements. He hinted and alluded to information concerning his parents that could crush their reputations, though he never put it so bluntly. He was a clever linguist and buried his intentions in layers of innuendo that would be inconspicuous to any but the target of his malice. Dylan quickly realized it was malice and he had already entered into a trap that was hard to back out of without real consequences to his family and his career. All he could do was listen and try to find some room for maneuver. Nothing was discussed outright, but the Commander recognized a worthy opponent in this duel of words and seemed to relish the challenge of bringing Dylan under his thumb. It was left at mere hints of what future discussions would entail as Dylan rose to leave with the Commander's permission. As his mind swirled over what was gained or lost this evening, the tone in the Commander's voice changed with the first request...the first hook, "When we reach Echo 1, Lt. Manolis will require a boost of power to the science instruments. He will send you the parameters through an encoded message, the key to which you will receive beforehand. Meet his request and erase all traces from the ship logs. I fully trust your capability in this matter, Ensign Downer." The door closed behind him with a quiet hiss.

USS Yorktown - 2279, Day 9 - Downer fell back into his routine in the days that followed his dinner meeting and had no contact with the First Officer. They were only a couple days from Sirius and a rendezvous with a supply vessel where they spent some time in the system running final diagnostics on the newly refitted Yorktown. Dylan pulled double shifts in Engineering and even had a watch shift on the bridge as the round-the-clock testing shook out the final bugs. They left Sirius for Vulcan - barely a 48 hour hop and orbited the planet to take on some science personnel from an orbital space station. T'Mir was one of the scientists that came aboard. She was not from Starfleet, but had unfettered access to the ship and spent much time in Engineering. Lt. Talbot gave her a wide berth as her presence was a bit disconcerting and her attitude somewhat standoffish. She pushed Dylan much like Talbot, but not with his gruff manner and genuine concern. She tried to make him feel inferior, put him on the spot, but Dylan held his own and felt a small thrill when she fixed him with a gaze and tried to catch him up on a technical point. He usually came out on the losing side, but not without scoring a few points. She had great insights into the ship's operations and Dylan learned from her at an accelerated pace despite the checks and barbs. Lt. Talbot was more and more scarce as the days passed and Dylan found himself drawn to T'Mir who still treated him as though she thought him a fool. They left Vulcan for Echo 1, the decade-old third replacement of the subspace amplifier that was a priority target for invading forces eager to cut communications capability during their incursions in this neck of the woods. It had been behaving erratically and the Yorktown was tasked with bringing it back online. The USS Eagle had originally been tasked with this mission, but was called away for unknown reasons. The task fit well with the Yorktown's primary mission of investigating energy readings in the Briar Patch, an easy month's travel beyond Echo 3. That was the future though and Dylan knew already not to question Starfleet orders let alone try to comprehend them. Instead he found himself working more and more with T'Mir, a coincidence he noted, but was not altogether upset about it. Her demeanour had not changed, if anything she was harder on him and he struggled to meet her challenges. He could swear he sensed a fire behind her cool demeanour. A smile that danced just behind her eyes that made him feel she enjoyed this as much as he, contrary to everything he had been taught about Vulcans. So it was on an off-hours shift that they had the system ops secondary controls in engineering to themselves. Readings were normal and routines in place as Dylan turned to move to another panel. He nearly bumped into T'Mir, breathing in her closeness as he loomed over her small frame. Her eyes were wide, her face flush and her breathing noticeable. He murmured an apology, searching for a hint he should take her in his arms, but she looked away and tucked a package into his tunic before hurrying out of the department. He exhaled and sat for a moment wondering what had transpired before pulling the package out. It was an override bus, a section manager's attachment that fit onto a system lock to enable temporary enhanced security clearances for station operations. He spun it around in his fingers for a moment thinking of the trouble he would be in if it was found on his person and considered his course of action. Thoughts drifted to T'Mir, her closeness, her look, her near touch. Then his stomach cooled and hardened. He realized he had just been given the promised key to enable him to carry out Cmdr. Blake's orders. They would reach Echo 1 on his next duty shift.

USS Yorktown 2279 - Day 10 - Downer lay on his bed staring at the ceiling lights as he twirled the override bus in his hand. His rank only afforded him a double berth, but his roommate, Ensign Rogers, was the newly appointed A&A Officer and spent most of his off-duty time in the lab or library. He seemed an amicable enough fellow, but Downer had hardly the opportunity to get to know him with the stark differences in their duties and shifts. For the most part the room was his and left him with free time to ponder his situation. His shift reminder alarm sounded and he responded to the computer that he was ready and would be on time.

Although the ship ran continuous shifts of three per standard twenty four hour Earth day, the concepts of morning, noon and night were still respected as the senior officers preferred a common schedule for planning and conference purposes. Downer usually drew the 'night' shift and the halls were quiet as he made his way down several levels to Engineering. He took over his post at the secondary mission ops controls which were isolated somewhat from the bulk of the department within its own (sealable) space. There was only a skeleton engineering crew milling about as some techs had been rescheduled for warp maintenance when the Yorktown arrived at the Echo One beacon for a few days. He kept hoping that T'Mir would show up, but he had not heard anything from her since she gave him the bus (tucked securely inside his tunic).

He ran his shift protocols, settled into the station routines and began running the scheduled diagnostics. He kept an eye on the navigation log and noted they were less than two hours from dropping out of warp to approach Echo One. Time passed normally and he relaxed into the comfort of routine until his console momentarily went blank and he was locked out of the controls. A single screen flickered to life and unintelligible text and numbers quickly filled the screen. Some columns slowed and settled on a singular letter until a line of text was centered on the screen:

'Engage Override Bus'

Dylan hesitated a moment, but looked around to see no other personnel and pulled out the bus and fit it into the terminal. The screen blanked again before a second message flashed:

'On the designated mark...
increase shield power 58%...
increase gamma range subspace scanning power 92%...
open conduit from warp core power bleed to main deflector dish...
erase logs within 34 second window'

The yellow alert sounded with five minutes to warp drop and all duty stations reported in. Downer found himself wiping sweat from his brow with shaking hands as he worked feverishly to ready the required power needs. "Warp core power to the main dish? What had he gotten himself involved with here?" The alert for dropping out of warp was sounded and the ship smoothly returned to subspace power. Ship systems appeared normal as the shields came online and the requisite short and long range scans were performed from the bridge. Suddenly the RED ALERT sounded and power demands spiked. His message screen simply flashed 'Mark.' and he initiated the program to put the power diversions in place. The demands taxed the power grid and numerous warnings of auxiliary system shutdowns indicated the automated safeguards had initiated to ensure tactical and life support systems received priority designation. Power balanced and the noticeable surge and flash from the warp core transfer signified the deflector dish had released a burst of some sort.

The next moment was filled with blackness and confusion as the Yorktown seemed to inexplicably tumble. Artificial gravity momentarily clicked out, only emergency lighting engaged, and the warp core suddenly dropped off line. Downer found himself on the floor as his control sealed itself and the core breach alarms went off. He was helpless as he saw the engineering techs scrambling for their suits as those closest lay motionless on the floor. System failures across the ship filled his screen as the ship struggled to restart and damage reports flooded in. He regained his chair and began to respond while noticing his message screen simply flashing:

33.
32.
31.

With a curse he engaged the computer database. The override bus allowed him access to the logs and he quickly parsed his actions from the logs as the timer continued to tick near zero. He finished and closed out, disengaging the bus as an afterthought just as the timer reached '0'. His station returned to normal and he spent the next hours sealed in his room, furiously responding to changing power levels as he could only watch the rescue and salvage operation in engineering on the other side of his window. The faceless techs and medical personnel in their suits paid him no heed and he had no time himself to do anything else aside from focus on his tasks.

Eventually the engineering section was cleared and the ship returned to normal with numerous wounds to nurse and a casualty count unknown to him. Near the end, he only learned the Yorktown had experienced the effects of a polaric ion blast as they dropped from warp. He cared little for the details or what part he played in it. He could only collapse into his bunk after an exhausting eighteen hour shift. His debriefing was scheduled for the following day.   

:ooc: I am digging the back-story for Downer!  ;D

USS Yorktown 2279 - Day 12 - After a fitful sleep, Downer was awakened hours before he would have liked by the computer's alarm giving him a half hour warning for an officer de-briefing. Downer waited for the second chime before hurriedly rousing, shaving, and dressing in his spare duty uniform. The tail of the lanyard on the override bus stuck out from the tunic in the crumpled pile of clothes he had left on the floor the previous day. An unconscious check revealed his roommate was not there (had he even been in the room at all?) and he palmed the bus and dropped it in the incineration disposal before leaving.

The hallways were chaotic, filled with crewmen moving equipment and repair details hurrying to their destinations. Lighting was reduced and automated messages and pages seemed to play continuously over the loudspeakers. His briefing was in the tactical ready-room which was up several levels and towards the core of the saucer. He reached a turbolift but a security crewman waved him off, "Lifts are still down, sir. Maintenance only. You'll have to take the stairs." Downer regretted the extra few minutes sleep as he double-timed it up several levels in the crowded stairwell. He was just catching his breath after detouring through the halls when he arrived outside the ready room.

Ensign Jablovenic waited at the door, a classmate of his from the academy. She was a comms specialist and had been appointed directly to the Captain's liason group. "Hi Dylan. They're a few minutes behind. Quite the shift you had. Word is you and Lt. Manolis saved us," she dropped her voice, "I heard the Captain talking about some kind of Romulan booby-trap. Banned technology or something, but I'm sure you'll hear more..." Downer was about to question what she heard he had done, when the door slid open with a quiet hiss. Lt. Manolis exited with a firm jaw and a quick glance at the pair of them standing in the hall. Dylan had not formally met the lieutenant and was about to introduce himself when Cmdr. Blake's voice called him to enter. Lt. Manolis marched off with a set jaw without uttering a word.

Downer entered the room and was surprised to see the First Officer beside the Captain, Joel Randolph, the chief science officer, Lt. Cmdr Jeffries, the Tactical Officer, Lt. Cmdr Reijik, and the chief navigator, Lt. Cmdr Dufferin - a full tribunal board - this seemed more than a debriefing. Downer smartly entered to present himself and found he was to remain standing in front of those assembled at the slightly curved (and raised) table. Support staff cluttered the wings of the room, recording the proceedings and receiving messages from across the ship which they often relayed in whispered tones to the various department heads assembled  at the front.

After a few moments, the group turned their attention to Downer. Cmdr Blake was the first to speak and Dylan dearly hoped he was not about to be sold down the river by the First Officer, "Ensign Downer. This Captain's Commission endeavours to determine the circumstances surrounding the events of yesterday that endangered our ship and destroyed a Klingon merchant vessel in the vicinity of Echo One. Please state your full name, rank and serial number for the record."

Dylan did as ordered.

"You were on duty in the secondary Mission Ops in the Engineering department upon our drop from warp? You were working alone?"

Dylan responded in the affirmative.

"Precisely 7.2 seconds after warp drop, Lt. Maolis's scans indicated an energy anomaly that presented an immediate threat to the ship. His system requests were mysteriously bounced from the bridge station to your secondary controls. In which you pulled off an engineering miracle by re-routing power in record time to precisely contain and divert the polaric ion blast that decimated everything in the area...including a Klingon vessel we were to receive some stranded Federation crewmen from." Cmdr. Blake rose his fist hitting the table, "How did you do it, Downer? How did you configure three separate systems in the time it took the pulse to reach us? Manolis himself said he thought the request was hopeless. He thought the ship was doomed instead of only the forty-two souls who perished."

Dylan licked his dry lips. Forty-two? That threw him. He had not considered the lives lost. What was Cmdr. Blake going for here? Was this an operation gone wrong for which he was trying to shift blame onto him? Did he trust Downer would keep his head and talk his way through this? Think man, think! "T'Mir...T'Mir developed some protocols to streamline such requests. She...tested me hard...and I guess the procedures, luckily, stuck in my head."

Lt. Cmdr Jeffries spoke up, "T'Mir? You learned all of that in three days?"

"No sir. It was just the other day and most duty shifts I've had..."

Cmdr. Blake spoke again menacingly, "Ensign Downer. T'Mir left the ship before we left Vulcan. What are you saying she worked out these protocols with you while we were in transit?...Computer. Locate T'Mir."

{sultry Computer voice}"The Vulcan scientist T'Mir departed the ship prior to departure from Vulcan."

So many questions spun in Dylan's head. Only ten days in to his first posting and only images of the brig flooded his mind. And T'Mir? What was going on...? "No sir. T'Mir initiated the protocols and Lt. Talbot drilled me on them. It's been a busy time in engineering. A lot has changed with the refit and some things are working with surprising efficiency."

Lt Cmdr. Reijik looked at him coolly. She had penetrating eyes and seemed to be measuring him. How many at the front sided with Cmdr Blake? What was he pushing him towards? He doubted he could implicate the First Offcier in anything. He knew nothing of the layers he had put in place. And what was the problem anyway? The ship had been saved. He only had done his job. "Well Lt. Talbot is dead." the cold numbness lumped in Downer's stomach again, "The preliminary diagnostics show things on the up and up, although you shouldn't have had the clearances to enable what you did. Perhaps the message bounce gave you bridge permissions. There is nothing in the logs to say otherwise." She finished with a pensive look to the others.

Lt. Cmdr Dufferin chimed in, "C'mon Blakey. Talbot - God rest his soul - said the boy was a crackerjack. Count your blessings he did his job. He kept his head and his training saved him. We should be giving him a commendation, not dragging him here like he was to blame. He saved the bloody ship. Captain? There is so much work to do. Can't we end this and get back to our departments?"

Captain Randolph had sat quietly, his eyes locked on Downer. "Ensign Downer. Preliminary reports seem to indicate measures were put in place that protected our ship from certain destruction. None of those measures exist in any Starfleet manual or directive. You come to us highly recommended, all logs support your actions, but I never seen such efficient operation in a time of crisis as what saved this ship yesterday. Someone tried to destroy my ship, Ensign Downer! And until two plus two equals four, you, like Lt. Manolis, will be restricted to off-duty areas until we can conduct a full security review. I may be shaking your hand in thanks one day, Ensign Downer, but I didn't get to be Captain of this ship by leaving rocks unturned. This hearing is closed. Everyone back to your stations."

Downer stood dumbfounded as everyone filed out of the room. Aides quickly updated the section heads with status reports as Cmdr. Blake and the Captain walked side by side in discussion. Blake shot Downer a disarming look that didn't convey anything of where he stood in the First Officer's eyes. An investigation? Balls! Downer went back to bed.   

USS Yorktown 2279 - Day 12 - Dylan awoke again and was perturbed to see only six hours had past. He felt dog tired, yet could not make himself sleep. He straightened his bunk area and glanced through some personal belongings he had not touched since boarding the Yorktown. He thought of writing a message to send home but to say what? - "Hi Dad. Watch out. My crazed First Officer is trying to pin the first volleys of a war on me and ruin yours and mom's life unless I play his game." He didn't have the patience to sit and began to leave, nearly bumping into his roommate in the door. Ensign Rogers looked surprised to see him and mumbled a greeting before pushing past into the room. Dylan stood in the doorway a moment before leaving, shaking his head.

The hallways were still active, the lifts were still down, and Dylan had to take a circuitous route to reach the junior officer's lounge. He was turned back several times by security personnel who all seemed to know about the restrictions placed on him. He grabbed a drink and sat with his datapad, hoping at least to catch up on his reports, but found his access to even the rudimentary note-keeping aspects of his job had been locked out. With resignation he sat looking out of the ship into the emptiness of space.

"May I join you, Mr. Downer?" Lt. Manolis' voice startled Dylan and it took him a moment before nodding in acknowledgement. It did not take long for Dylan to realize the Science Officer was well ahead of him in the drink count as he unsteadily found his seat. He sat in silence for an uncomfortable time before Manolis finally spoke, looking only into his empty glass, "I told myself I wouldn't let him get me like this again. But here I am...shafted again. You should get out while you can. Request a transfer. Get off this ship before he gets too many hooks in you."

Downer looked around uncomfortably, but there were few patrons and none close by, "Lieutenant. Perhaps this isn't the best time to talk about this. Perhaps we shouldn't even be seen together...with the circumstance and all."

Lt. Manolis leaned close and gripped Downer's arm, "He wants to start a war, Downer. We weren't supposed to be here. The USS Eagle was supposed to be on this mission and he and those Vulcans planned that booby trap to destroy the Klingon vessel along with a Federation ship. Polaric ionization is Romulan technology. He's trying to implicate them and destroy the truce...and why? Because of his business interests. He would plunge us into war because his family controls more weapons' manufacturers than you can count. But I know enough to get out. He still needs me for now...I just need the time to pull things together and I'll bring him down...you can help."

Dylan's mind was spinning as some pieces fell in place. He thought of his homeworld, Deneva, it was not out of striking distance from Romulan space and would certainly be a key world if the wars picked up again. It angered him that lives were thrown away for personal gain. He missed the last part of Manolis' tirade and snapped back to listening at the suggestion of being pulled into another web.

"...and Blake is getting careless. He barely gave me enough warning of the threat at Echo One. With some time to run some simulations I could have configured the pulse to completely deflect the blast with no harm to the ship, but I think he wanted some damage. Some Starfleet deaths to fan the flames..."

"Lt. Manolis," Downer interrupted, "I don't want to get drawn into anything else. I'll take my chances with his requests and find my own way out. I've only followed orders so far. I won't conspire against a senior officer. He will slip up. One man can't drag the Federation into a war."

Manolis broke in, his voice a harsh whisper, "Talbot just played along, looking for an out. Twelve years under Blake's thumb and an officer's commission, but now he's dead. Cmdr. Jefferies use to run things, but Blake leaped past him in seniority and power. Now he's just a lapdog. T'Mir ran the Vulcan side of things, but now she's dead...disagreed with Blake once too often."

With an uncomfortable frequency, Dylan again felt cold in the pit of his stomach, "T'Mir?...She's dead?"

"T'Mir. Yes he transported her into dead space while we were in warp. Then erased the logs to cover his tracks...well got someone else to do it anyway. Who knows what he has on the poor sucker who did that. One would have to be very careful not to leave any markers to erase that kind of information. T'Mir was going to blow the whistle, go to the Captain. She got cold feet and now she's dead. The same can happen to you anytime, Downer. Remember that." Lt. Manolis rose and straigthened his tunic before catching his balance and walking away.

Downer sat alone for some time holding his empty cup and staring off into space through the portholes. Finally setting the glass down he returned to his quarters. Several days passed of the same restricted routine. The ship slowly approached normalcy as repairs were made and duty gaps filled in. The engineering section had taken the brunt of losses and personnel in other technical fields were seconded to bolster the ranks just to fill out skeleton shifts. His bunkmate, Ensign Rogers, was around their shared room some more. They talked briefly about the day-to-day happenins on the shifts and he would talk excitedly at length about the research he was doing, but even after several days Downer knew little more about Ensign Rogers than when they met.

USS Yorktown 2279 - Day 15 - A message came through to Downer to be ready in full dress for a security escort in fifteen minutes. He hurriedly shaved and prepared as the call came at his door. Two enlisted security officers flanked him as they smartly marched through the corridors and to the lifts, heading for the Captain's Ready Room. They were admitted into the small room and marched in to find only Captain Randolph sitting behind his desk. Downer saluted smartly and the Captain dismissed the guards leaving them alone in the room.

Captain Randolph looked tired. The strain of the past days showed. His desk was uncharacteristically cluttered and two half-full cups of coffee were pushed to the side, long neglected. "At ease, Downer...Sit. Sit," the Captain said as he rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. He fixed Downer with a strong gaze, though. The body may be tired, but the mind was not. "Ensign Downer. I had your actions officially and unofficially reviewed and nobody can find fault. Dammit, everyone thinks you deserve a medal! If it was the Eagle here, the Federation may have lost a starship. All indications point to the Romulans, but that is for others to sort out. We're ready to ship out and proceed to Echo Two, though we're going to drop out of warp well away and send a probe to check things out first. In any case you and Lt. Manolis have been fully cleared and will return to duty. Your actions have been mentioned in dispatches." The Captain rose and Downer quickly rose with him, reaching to meet Randolph's extended hand.

Downer felt he could trust the Captain, felt the need to spill what he knew and set things right again. He withdrew his hand and hesitated a moment, wondering where to start. Piecing together events and assumptions so that he could build a solid case the Captain would accept right away, "Captain...". His diatribe ready to be unleased, his resolve set...he was interrupted by the door chime.

The Captain admitted the caller, a watch officer on a security detail. He looked nervously at Downer before continuing at the Captain's urging, "Captain. Lt. Manolis was found in a storage room on deck 7. All indications say he took his own life."

USS Yorktown 2279 - Day 16 - Downer thankfully fell back into routine as the ship readied to enter warp again. He felt that people still avoided him, but that may have just been his own sour mood. T'Mir was gone, Lt. Manolis was gone. Where did he fit into this? He had not seen Cmdr. Blake in days and hoped that was a good sign. He ate alone and spent off-duty time in his bunk. (Still no sign of Ensign Rogers. Did that fellow live in his lab?). The solitude of the controls in engineering was comforting. The mood amongst the engineering crew was sombre, as their section took the bulk of the casualties and required the most extensive repairs. For the most part they left him alone, but more than any understood what he accomplished in saving the ship. He deflected their gratitude knowing the false pretenses under which he was able to manage the feat that he did.

With the warp engines passing all of their tests, the Captain gave the order to shove off and they entered warp and maintained a comfortable speed of warp factor 6. This would put them at Echo Two in about ten days, and shortly after that to a rest stop on Deneva, his home planet. The thought of returning home did little to improve his mood. With each passing day the coldness in his stomach grew. He jumped at the quiet hiss of a door opening and expected another request from Cmdr. Blake anytime he turned a corner. His sleep became fitful and he often found himself in the library, losing himself in Earth classics that he had only skimmed over as a student.

"Ensign Downer." Lt. Cmdr. Reijik's voice gave him a start as he did not notice her approach beside his viewer. It was off hours and the library was empty save for those two. Downer started to rise and she quickly waved him to sit, taking a chair near his. She dropped her voice and leaned in closer. "We haven't much time to talk. Manolis came to me before he was murdered." Murdered?? The word rolled off her tongue with such ease but with such distaste as though the action was the despicable part, not the loss of life. "I've had concerns about Blake for some time, but he has covered his tracks too well to make anything stick. We are approaching Deneva, where I assume he will try to put you into play. Follow his plans but stay wary. Report to me only if there is something that you can't handle. You're bright. Think on your feet. Blake has the Captain's trust but he has too much on the rest of the officers for us to move on him. Deneva will be the key. Let him lay out his cards, but don't give him what he wants. You will be expendable once he has it." Without waiting for a response she rose and left.

He stared, unmoving, at his screen for some time, possibilites coalescing in his head, but swirling apart in unformed fragments. He had no idea when he lost control, and could only be sure that he did not like it. It was fours hours until his next shift. He hadn't slept in thirty-six. Yet he was so on edge that sleep was the last thing on his mind.

:ooc: This is great stuff! Can't wait for the next part. :)

:ooc: Yea, who needs me!  ;D

I could just sit back and read Don's PC adventures prior to ever boarding the Columbia.

USS Yorktown 2279 - Day 26 - The Yorktown signalled a red alert fifteen minutes before warp drop at Echo Two and Downer was summoned to the bridge. Lt. Pak, his immediate supervisor, vacated the mission ops post beside the conn and moved to a secondary panel behind the executive officers. He nodded faintly for Downer to sit as he left, with lips drawn tight. Captain Randolph was focused on the viewscreen from his chair with Commander Blake flanking him at the central rail. Lt. Cmdr. Reijik was seated at a tactical station across the bridge from Downer. A comms officer and a science officer rounded out the bridge crew. Two security personnel were posted at the bridge lift access.

Cmdr. Blake's voice cut sharply through the tense air on the bridge, "Mr. Vasquez, count down from twenty to our drop from warp. Cmdr. Reijik, prepare to fire the probe on my mark. Ensign Downer, prepare to allocate power to shield and modulate frequencies if polaric ion energy is encountered." Captain Randolph continued to stare at the star tracks on the viewscreen, allowing his XO to manage the bridge crew.

Lt. Vazquez's voice took up the count, "20. 19. 18. 17..."

"Anything Lt. Verhaegen?" Blake questioned the science officer.

"Negative, sir."

"12. 11. 10. 9..."

"Downer. Queue up shield profile Beta-Four. Release warp core conduit locks."

"6. 5. 4. 3..."

"Ready probe launch, Commander." The ship dropped from warp and operated at maximum impulse. The viewscreen magnified on the probe, far, far ahead. The drop point was chosen to allow ample time to detect and respond to a similar burst as at Echo One, but nothing was left to chance. "Shields up! Mark!"

"Probe away, Commander."

"Engage warp drive, Lt. Vazquez. Warp Factor 2. Readings, Mr. Verhaegen?"

The science officer monitored the probe's flight and confirmed it was returning a signal. The Yorktown commenced a circuitous course around Echo Two in low warp to maintain a good lock on the probe. It took a moment for the science officer to filter through the flood of information streaming from the probe. "Nothing, Commander. No traces of polaric ion energy. No other emmisions to suggest any craft or anomalies."

Captain Randolph spoke, "Continue with a full-spectrum scan and send the report to my ready room. Maintain course, Mr. Vazquez. Ensign Downer, you are dismissed. Lt. Pak, please resume your post. Commander Reijik, you have the bridge. Commander Blake, with me, please."

Downer stepped into the turbolift with the Captain and Commander Blake. Neither uttered a word nor acknowledged him when they exited a floor below. Downer continued to his quarters and finally found sleep.

USS Yorktown, Day 29, 2279 - The approach to Echo 2 was uneventful. The full scan results of the probe indicated no threat or tampering with the communications relay and the Yorktown completed the scheduled maintenance. It was other rumours swirling around the lounges and mess halls that caused the stir. A polaric ion explosion near Outpost 5, one of the old Earth station outposts that was not destroyed during Romulan attacks eleven years prior. An attack on a civilian ship out of Starbase 23, allegedly by a Romulan Bird-of-Prey. All in all, talk of war breaking out dominated discussions.

An incident in engineering that barely prevented a coolant loss to the warp core delayed their stay at Echo 2 a few days as the over-taxed engineering department ran meticulous scans on the ship power systems and structure. Fused circuitry throughout the ship's wiring relays caused intermittent problems that could not be contained by redundant systems. After discussions with the Chief Engineer, the Captain decided to postpone the current mission and settle into nearby Starbase 12 for repair.

Starbase 12 was a busy hub, made more so by the apparent activity along the Romulan border. Cruisers and escorts arrived daily to be dispatched to patrols up and down the Neutral Zone. This delayed repairs to the Yorktown due to sheer volume, but as a front line ship, getting her back in the fight was a priority. However it became clear after a few days that repairs would take the better part of a month and would redo most of what was just refitted. A skeleton crew was maintained aboard to work with the Starfleet technicians, but most enjoyed an unexpected stay on Starbase 12. Downer was granted a 7-day furlough to Deneva in the second week and settled comfortably in a civilian transport for the short journey.

Deneva, Day 41, 2279 - Downer looked out of the viewport as the passenger liner he was on powered smoothly at sublight speed towards Deneva. The warp point was a little further from the planet than most systems due to the asteroids that clustered around the planet. The automated mining ships swarmed like bees around the huge chunks of rock as they efficiently extracted ore and deposited it to a fleet of tenders that ran constantly between space and planet-borne refineries. It was a massive operation that kept much of the planet unspoiled while it reaped the riches of extensive mineral wealth.

The viewport dimmed as they left the shadow of the planet and began their descent into the atmosphere to Tate Spaceport, the industrial heart of the planet. The spaceport was all about efficiency and it was here that he grew up. Dark clouds and stormy weather covered this end of the continent, not unheard of at this time of year, and it was not until they broke through the low clouds that Downer saw the snaking tendrils of maglev tracks that radiated out from the port to the dispersed refineries, processing plants and agricultural depots.

The spaceport activity was busy and chaotic and was the antithesis to life on the rest of Deneva. The transient population of Tate Spaceport was the equal of the total of the rest of the continent save Deneva Station itself. Deneva Station was the governing seat of the colony and was a planned community with wide tree-lined boulevards and natural parks, rivers and canals that blended in with the buildings. Tate Spaceport grew in rings and was constructed at different times and by different corporations and interests and therefore had little planning. Naturally there was a great rivalry between the two chief cities.

The local news feeds flitted across the viewscreens and it was clear that all was not well on Deneva. A general strike by workers that handled freight on the spaceport docks was being threatened due to the threat of corporate takeover and a crackdown on the power of the unions. Downer smiled as he thought of his parent's involvement and how this trip would be far from the relaxing visit he was planning. Just like old times. It was good to be home.