An unwelcome duty.

Posted on Thu Feb 3rd, 2022 @ 11:42am by Lieutenant Commander P’rel M.D

Mission: With Gleaming Eyes
Location: Bridge.
Timeline: MD3, 1000
1658 words - 3.3 OF Standard Post Measure

Her meeting with Kane having gone about as well as they usually did, P’rel had moved to the bridge in order to access the active sensors to take over local tracking from the distant Starfleet sensor relay. Knowing there were ships on the way, she was uncomfortable relying on time delayed telemetry and had concluded that whilst the primary long range sensor arrays were not in use, it was only logical to track in the inbound warships.

Kane had left the shift not long after their meeting, and Commander Zora had followed not far behind as she understood it. With Commander Shan off-shift and most of the other senior officers on the surface, the Vulcan lieutenant had made the unfortunate realisation that she was senior most officer on the bridge. It was an unwelcome duty, and she was more than content to avoid the centre chair and took up a position instead at mission ops; for some reason the rest of the bridge crew seemed about as relieved at this choice as she was.

There was nothing likely to happen, in any case, and short of an unexpected emergency there would be little to nothing for her to do in terms of commanding the ship, which remained in a standard orbit. Muttering to herself that she spoke too soon, she needed a higher signal gain to track the furthest and most heavily armed of the incoming ships. “Helm” she said, without turning around to face whoever was the station, “something on the planet is interfering with the long range sensor array, take us into a high polar orbit”.

“Ma’am” came the short reply, as if the officer didn’t like taking orders from P’rel. The Vulcan intelligence officer made a note in the Command officers’ active ops files so they would be alerted to the change in position. She noted inwardly that the signal was vastly improving as Athena attained the stated orbit and that she now had a clear signal lock on all of the inbound ships.

Another console started alerting its user to something, followed shortly by that officer getting her attention. “Go ahead” replied P’rel, rather regretting her decision to work on the bridge amidst the distraction.

Turning round this time to face the speaking officer, she noted he was a young human looking man “reporting coming in from Lieutenant Keating’s team. They’ve found something and are continuing to investigate, more data incoming”.

“I would expect nothing less informative nor useful from Lieutenant Keating.” P’rel said with sarcastic derision. “Relay the report to my station and continue to do so as more comes in.” Spinning the small set back around, the Vulcan began reading the incoming report. An unmarked room, strange readings consistent with the molecular constitution of the Pilgrim’s, which itself matched the refined goo found aboard the small auxiliary craft; ultimately it all appeared to be powering some kind of perpetual energy device, unlimited power by definition and by extension a most terrible weapon of terrific yield. At least now there was some kind of indication as to how the pilgrims fit into this puzzle, and why they were so important to the operation. The larger question still remaining, what operation and whose? The more layers the Athena crew uncovered, the more complex it became, and complexity required support and secrecy in equal measure - the Vulcan was convinced neither could be achieved by a loose band of pirates and instead would require the organisation and resources of the major regional powers, or at least elements of them.

== Around 1200 ==

With the past two hours, seven minutes and eleven seconds spent engrossed in the biomolecular makeup of the compound found on the surface, P’rel was well on the way to being able to draw up a stronger hypothesis for Kane. It wasn’t conclusive, but it was unlikely Gul Dara didn’t know what was surging beneath her own city, and that in itself was damning. Opening a new document to compile the beginnings of a report, she was annoyingly interrupted by the same comms officer as before - “Lieutenant, urgent message from the surface, a riot has broken out in proximity to the Captain’s away team”.

P’rel turned around for sure but remained rooted in her seat, this wasn’t something she was comfortable dealing with. Damn it, she was a doctor not a command officer - and an intelligence operative only by circumstance, she cursed to herself. “Status of the Captain and the XO?” she asked, hesitantly at first though her voice conveyed urgency.

“Unknown, but both are in immediate proximity to - security reports the XO is missing and presumed involved in the incident.”

Rising from the console station, she moved toward the railing behind Kane’s chair. She was, for once, lost for what to do. “Isolate and display bio readings for the CO and XO” she ordered, to at least make a start. Both Kane and Zora’s key read outs appeared on the view screen overlaid against the planetscsape. Zora’s was notably heightened, Kane’s elevated but remarkably steady.

From opposite sides of the bridge, the Ops officer and the comms officer both spoke atop one another -

“The Captain is requesting heavy firefighting equipment”

“Commander Zora has taken a blunt force injury!” - simultaneously the overlaid readout for the XO changed to red and numerous medical statuses read out to the side of the nondescript humanoid silhouette.

Tightening her grip on the on the railing, and still refusing Kane’s chair, the Vulcan hesitantly stepped into action. It was a widely held erroneous belief that Vulcans had no emotions, though most others hid theirs and controlled them better than P’rel. She didn’t have time to contend with the possibility that her anxiety may have shown in her demeanour. Looking to the numerous officers as she spoke, her orders began: “Yellow Alert! Break our orbit and put us directly over the city. Maintain active scans for approaching vessels and standby weapons.” She turned to another set of officers, very much aware that everyone on the bridge was looking to her. “Get a lock on our people as soon as we’re in range and prepare to bring them up. Isolate Commander Zora - if transport becomes limited for any reason then extract her first. Notify sickbay to receive mass casualties and activate quarantine protocols.”

“In range now ma’am, sending down fire equipment and bringing up Commander Zora. Lieutenant, security reports multiple non Starfleet fatalities.”

P’rel couldn’t understand why Kane hadn’t contacted the ship with orders. In one moment she could put a torpedo down to a safe altitude with a low enough yield to concuss everyone into unconsciousness and then deal with the pieces later; surely, she thought, any action even an extreme one was better than simply watching the Cardassians and Metis tear each other to pieces. Far from the Gul being an issue, Kane might not even make it the meeting at this rate; she kept a firm bead of attention rigidly isolated on Kane's readouts.

“Commander Zora and a number of Metis and Cardassians are aboard” reported ops again.

The Vulcan nodded, her nerves having seemingly abated she found herself now more in an instinctive rhythm. “Send down an additional Security team. Tell them to locate and secure the Captain.” Even she didn’t dare beam him up without orders, despite them being seemingly idiotic he obviously had reasons for his inaction. “And if she isn’t already, someone wake Commander Shan!”.

Walking over to the helm, P’rel could see that the ship was now in an extremely low orbit above the city and was reassured from Kane’s bio readings on the view screen setting down that the situation was probably stabilising.

“Lieutenant” reported comms, “security reports they have surrounded the Captain and that the situation is relieving. Crowds are dispersing and medical teams are attending to the wounded. Hostile sniper operating in area.”

“Alright” replied P’rel, reaching over the officer to delete Kane’s readings from the screen. “First, send a security detail to sickaby. I don't want the conflict down there simply extending nor indeed reigniting ship-board; and seal off deck 7 at all conceivable access points, lock all computer access to Starfleet IDs only and deactivate all non vital systems on that deck". The very, very last thing she needed was a hopeful Cardassian - or Metis for that matter - deciding to take advantage of an open terminal or unsecured system. At that moment the Andorian commander entered the bridge, still fastening a duty tunic; from the slightly ruffled hair and antennae still yet to fully unfurl it was clear that Andorian had been asleep; unsurprising given the second officer probably had commanded the night shift. She was about to hand over, but something unfamiliar gave here a small emotional impulse..."Issue standing operational orders to our people, nobody is to be alone nor outside anywhere, remain under cover at all times.” She turned to the comm officer to specifically emphasise the point, “and I don’t care if security have to shoot the Captain and drag his stubborn ass indoors - him too!”.

Relieving herself to the Andorian Commander as she approached the Vulcan, P’rel conveyed a report of the events and acknowledged the thanks given. Though probably surprised by the Vulcan's final emphasised orders. the Andorian at least did not show it nor undermine P'rel by altering or rescinding the orders. Shan took Kane’s chair a lot more comfortably than the Vulcan would have and ordered the Athena to remain in a low geo-stationary orbit above the city; a reminder perhaps to the locals that Athena was ready to take action. Returning to her duty station, she reopened the report template and set to work once again.