"Glad to hear it", ch'Pertha said, with a friendly tone.

He gently swivelled the data screen just enough to draw attention to the fact that he was previewing her file, "You've strong training in Command and Negotiation, in Diplomatic Relations.  A very admirable skill set, Ltn Commander.
With significant focus on Security, and Medical practise,".

In truth, if she were to look at his files, she'd find that her studies and training were very similar to his own*; and in that, ch'Pertha felt he could easily relate to the Orion.
In truth, she was just as qualified for the Captains Chair as he was.
          * Command 4, Security 5, Science 1, Conn 1, Engineer 1, Medicine 4
               - Composure, Espionage, Hand to Hand Combat, Starship Combat, First Aid, Inspiration

"I'd like to hear your thoughts," he said, getting down to 'shop talk', "on how you see your position here on the ship.  You seem quite experienced enough to know how a place like this runs.
What elements of the ship, and of our shared duties would you most like to see yourself taking day-to-day responsibility for?
Crew management?  Consignment and logistics?" he shrugged, "Starfleet beauracracy?
You will, of course, be regularly placed in command of away missions, as Executive Officer.

Beyond that, the ship, like most, run on three shifts each Federation Day.  On a day by day affair, you will take command of one, and myself another", each, of course, 'on call: 24/7'.
He hadn't decided yet who would be 'offered' the opportunity to run the show on the 'graveyard shift'.

Azumi's shuttle ride over is brief, lengthened only by the young pilot doing a circuitous fly-by of the now-docked Independence.

One feature of the Miranda-class ships are the twin expanded hanger bays on the aft of the saucer. The cargo shuttle heads into Bay 2, a cavernous, bustling hub of activity as cargo is offloaded and enlisted personnel scramble to keep it from becoming chaos as the cargo is routed to its proper destination.

An older human with salt-and-pepper hair and an impressive mustache looks up from his electronic manifest and spies Azumi as she exits the shuttle with some surprise.

"Well now," he drawled, the Texan in his voice prominent.  "What brings you here on this magic carpet ride?" he asked.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:19, Tue 08 June 2021.

In reply to LT Tsolo Kloshe Saghalie (msg # 33):

"Aye sir, understood," Nipay replied. "We've got a diverse pool of expertise on Independence; a mix of technicians and scientists and linguists. But the department head slot has been a revolving door of late.  Glad to have you."


And from her tone, at least, she meant it.

"Thank you," Harada replied with a wan but genuine smile.  "I appreciate that.  I just wish JavKer were here.  The Chief was always good at running a three-ring circus."

The shuttle ride, while short, is still an enjoyable experience for the Petty Officer; even after a few years in Starfleet, she hasn’t often had the opportunity.  Certainly this is the first time she’s had the means to get such a good look at the ship upon which she will serve, and this is the first vessel of such a size.  Peering through the window, she makes out the modified hanger bays, and her eyebrows rise.  Interesting…and curious.  For what reason does the Independence require such largesse?  Not hers to reason why, Azami concludes; if she needs to know, someone will tell her.  Unlikely; the Petty Officer is medical, and rather low on the totem pole with regards to rank.  Atop that, she’s a poor hand at flying shuttles, barely having passed that section of her training.  Wryly, the young woman considers her Starfleet training, and the results.  Not exactly a ringing endorsement of my presence here.

It surprises her that she has received a posting on a vessel this size, this far out; perhaps, Azami muses, there simply was no other person available.

The rest of the ship is sweeping curves, with few straight lines outside of the nacelles; pursing her lips, Azami nods with a hint of approval.  This class of vessel, compact and clean, holds appeal for her on an aesthetic level.  Now, if only they could repair the visible damage.  Up close, it’s even more disturbing.   Scars mean damage.  Damage means casualties.  She closes her eyes.

…the lights outside the window lay shadows on the sleeping boy’s face…

The grey eyes snap open, staring blindly out the porthole for several very quick heartbeats.  With a few long, slow breaths, Azami brings down her heartrate, controls her breathing, and lets the devil’s cocktail that memory has mixed slowly leave her system.  By the time they arrive at their goal, she is once again the picture of equanimity.

Into the second hanger they fly; the shuttle settles, and after a brief thank you to the pilot, Azami slips out, eyes on the hunt for potential collisions.  It’s borderline chaos, here, and getting run over by a cargo-hauler would only set the timetable back that much more, and certainly not endear her to the command staff…or the other enlisted, all attempting to keep to schedule.  Shifting by a set of hovering crates, Azami swivels her head to study her greeter; her body follows, quick steps taking her forward.  Small carry-on in-hand, she stops in front of the mustached man and offers a quick salute.  “Petty Officer Amamiya Azumi, reporting for duty.”  Delievered in quiet, smooth tones, it’s factual rather than officious.  Digging into her carry-on’s side pocket, she locates her e-clipboard and offers it to the older man with a small nod.  The pad is set to display those orders; Azami believes in being prepared.

“Medical,” she continues in the same quiet, laconic fashion.  “If you have anything for the Med-bay that isn’t outsized, I can certainly save you a trip..”

D'rala glanced towards her displayed file and then back towards ch'Pertha.

"Thank you, Commander." she replied. "Yes, of course."

"First and foremost, I go where I'm needed."  Already sitting quite upright, she managed to sit even straighter as she began to answer with an even-keel intensity that snuck into her demeanor when discussing matters of the job. "

"In my last assignment, I worked closely with personnel. I like the officers and crewman to know that they can approach me with any issues that may arise while aboard. On that front, I've started making the rounds to get a better sense of everyone and introduce myself."

"I'm capable of any administrative duties necessary, and I don't shirk my paperwork, but I'm better in the field or dealing with people than behind a desk."

"I feel my studies in culture have allowed me to develop a good diplomatic sense. I wasn't raised in the Federation, but I've dedicated a lot of time and study to being able to function well here, and to understanding the social nuances of these areas of space. I'd also like to think my position as an outsider allows me to offer a point points of view that might not otherwise be present."

When D'rala finished speaking, she smiled politely, watching him for his response.



To Harada

D'rala offered a sympathetic look: a genuine reaction to recalling the fatalities on the artifact. She would have perhaps set a hand on the woman's arm if they had not been in the engine room, on the job, but instead opted to offer support from a distance.

"The words do little, but I'm very sorry for the losses your crew suffered. They were brave and honorable men." It is not far from her thoughts that those men would not have been there in the first place had her team returned in the intended time, or had she finished freeing herself from the wreckage a little sooner, and found a way to make contact with the station. She pressed the thought aside, refocusing her full attention on Chief Harada.

 "If there's anything I can do to ease the transition of these times, please don't hesitate to let me know."

In reply to PO Amamiya Azami (msg # 45):

"Chief Petty Officer Elliot Carter, transporter chief," the man drawled in reply.  He took the clipboard from Azami and scanned it visually for a brief moment.

"Well, Azumi, your orders look right to me.  Unfortunately our sickbay's undergoin' somethin' of a transition.  Closest thing to a senior officer I can point you to is LCDR T'Lara, our chief counselor.  Give me just a second, I'll contact her."

  “Thank you, chief.”  Azami nods, her mind racing.  Were she born three hundred years ago, she wouldn’t have dreamed of correcting a superior…and even now, cultural bias can be difficult to ignore.  But it isn’t three hundred years in the past, and Azami has experienced some cultural challenges since leaving her world for the final time.  Besides which, a small correction now might spare embarrassment and conflict in the future.  With a tiny grimace, she continues.  “Apologies, chief; Az – a – mi.”  The corpswoman offers a small shrug as a smile’s ghost passes across her face. “Oddly, many people tend to shift to Azumi.”  A helpless shrug follows.  “It might have something to do with Federation Standard.

Finished, she looks away, studying the flow of movement around them.  Her grey eyes seek out faces, committing them to memory, searching them for signs that they are accustomed to this, or merely transients aboard this vessel, their true home the starbase ‘below’.  It should give the chief time to make his call, and hopefully to process her small correction without taking offense.  She has no real read on his personality, yet, and some people take offense at offered clarification.  It wouldn’t be the first time, to be sure, and Azami hopes to avoid any awkwardness with a crewmember, even if he will be outside her direct chain of command.

"They were," Harada agreed quietly. "And they died with honor."  She nodded to herself, as if settling a matter privately.

Then she turned and favored D'rala with a smile.  "Thank you for your kindness and consideration, Commander.  I'll do my best to lead the engineering team to success."

"Despite some cosmetic damage, our repairs should be mostly minor.  I don't foresee extended yard time," she added.

In reply to PO Amamiya Azami (msg # 48):

"My mistake," Carter replied, looking bashful.  Was he blushing?

"I'll page the counselor right away.  Would you like me to have her meet you here, or at your quarters?  ...I'm sure there's a billet for you here somewhere..."

Unable to find said billet quickly, the older Texan said, "Better make it here.  Hang on."

Thumbing a button on his console, he drawled, "LCDR T'Lara, please report to shuttle bay 2.  I've got a new arrival to the medical department."

T’Lara had a lot to ponder as she made it back to her quarters.  Two more weapons of mass destruction, floating around in Klingon and Romulan space.  It was only a matter of time until they found them, be it months, years, or decades.  And then what?  She wanted to believe the Klingons wouldn’t stoop to using such a weapon (killing billions with the flick of a switch wasn’t very glorious), but there was no counting on it.  The Romulans’ ambition, however, knew no bounds.  She could definitely imagine them destroying entire planets, particularly if they were affected by the stations' radiation in the same way their Vulcan cousins were.

*sigh*

She was already out of the trubolift when she heard Carter calling her back over the comms. Greeting a new officer was always a pleasure, especially if she would end up working with him.  Or her.
“-On my way”



T’Lara arrived at the shuttle bay a moment later and made a beeline toward the CPO as soon as she spotted him.  Assuming the genteel woman standing by his side was the new officer he mentioned, she beamed at her and stepped forward to introduce herself:
“Lieutenant Commander T’Lara, here to welcome you aboard”
This message was last edited by the player at 18:37, Fri 11 June 2021.

Azami's eyebrows tent slightly as she notes the shift in the chief's colour.  A touch embarrassed herself at having brought about such concern, she stills in place, relaxing into her feet.  "Please don't concern yourself," the young woman begins, but he's off and running, hunting for a billet while contacting someone to meet her.  Opting for allowing him to continue, Azami waits in silence until he finishes.  The counselor?  An interesting choice, but not odd...and yet, is that a Vulcan name?

When he finishes, she makes a quick twitch of her lips, dismissing the issue of finding a billet.  "I expect I will be sharing quarters with one of the other medical staff," she notes.  At least, that was the situation on her last assignment - a trio of medical staff (the medical officer and two subordinates), each on-hand for a separate shift.  It's likely similar here, though possibly with two working each shift.

Bay doors open, under her watchful eyes.  Dark hair, characteristic features...this would be the counselor, then.  It's a surprise, however, to see the bright smile on her face; not precisely the norm for a Vulcan.  Be careful of bias, Azami, she reminds herself.  As the woman approaches, she identifies herself, and Azami immediately salutes.  "Lieutenant Commander," she returns.  "Petty Officer Amamiya Azami, reporting for duty."  All very proper, with neither 'military snap' nor a casual tone; it lies somewhere in the middle, factual and straightforward.  Salute complete, she offers a small bow, bending slightly at the hips with her palms on the front of her thighs.  "My thanks to you and the chief for your welcome."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:45, Fri 11 June 2021.

[Oops! missed Tuesday post.]

Until the meeting with Decker, Tsolo works with members of the comm team. He explains his idea of interchangeable parts: That, in the nature of Starfleet, there is a chain of command, but that each member of the comm team should, as well as possible, be ready to fill any comm function. In that sense, all are equal and can learn from and teach to each other.

He reminds them that his Chaplain duties may cause him to be absent at times. In that case, LT Nipay is in charge.

T’Lara wasn’t used to being saluted.  Or saluting, for that matter.  It was a bit too formal for her taste.  Too hierarchical.  It would have made her uncomfortable even if she was Azami’s commanding officer

“please; call me T’Lara”  she tried easing them into a more familiar rapport, as subtly as she could manage it

“I apologize; Dr. Abdool, our previous chief medical officer, has recently transferred to a new position and we don’t yet have a replacement.  Had I known you were coming I would have been here on time to greet you”

Post out of time after Decker assisted fallible me:

At the end of the meeting Tslo said It's tritely obvious that the three entities should be at peace, or be allied even. However, how this is to be accomplished and what should be shared about the artifact is way above my pay grade; higher brass shoudl be informed, maybe through the Captain. I'll keep my mouth shut.

Decker chuckled, again without humor, "Indeed. The current and historical aggressions between starfaring cultures is most illogical. Unfortunately, I doubt these new elements will serve to move us to a more peaceful condition."

As the meeting came to a close, he thanked them both and immediately took the materials back to his office (OOC: I assume any department head must have an administrative office) and secured them there. He then contacted the Captain's yeoman and requested a private meeting as soon as possible, stressing the urgency of the situation without disclosing any details.

Another small bow, ending with Azami looking up at her superior officer;  the Vulcan woman is a few inches taller than herself. "T'lara, then," Azami agrees.  Stiff formality will only make people more uncomfortable; better to to proceed with the wishes of each individual.  "I'm sorry to hear of your loss," Azami continues.  "I never met Dr. Abdool, but I hope his situation has improved."

The counselor, Azami notes with some curiosity, seems to be attempting a more casual familiarity; it's surprising, coming from a Vulcan.  Having a Vulcan Counselor is somewhat surprising as well, Azami concedes; the issue regarding validation of emotions might normally preclude such a posting for one of T'lara's species.  Not that it would be impossible, Azami muses, as Vulcans are not without emotions; merely...difficult, given the knid of controls their species places upon themselves.

One might wonder why a Vulcan would choose such a posting, such a calling.

"If it is not too informal, I see no need for any apology," she returns, with another small bow. "Your ship has clearly seen some difficult times."  There; an easy out for any possible awkwardness.  "If there is anything with which I might assist, please inform me; there is no real need for me to..." A small twitch pulls a grimace from her lips, there and gone in an instant. "...'settle in' at present."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:32, Sat 12 June 2021.

Glancing at her file on the screen, ch'Pertha nodded with a smile, "All this is true, Ltn Commander.
But it is not what I asked you"

T’Lara’s smile faded at the mention of ‘difficult times’.  It wasn’t that she was overwhelmed by her emotions (this time), but that she felt it disrespectful toward the dead to keep on a happy face at the reference to their tragic deaths.

“Let me show you to your quarters first.  Find a place for your baggage” T’Lara was happy for the change of subject  “There isn’t any emergency at sickbay currently, so you might as well make yourself comfortable.  I'll be happy to give you a tour of the ship before they assign you your first shift, if you’re interested”

  The bright smile goes like smoke in a breeze, slowly vanishing from the counselor's features.  In moments they have become the Vulcan norm: stoic and serious.  It must have been something she said, Azami decides, rewinding her own words for closer examination.  In context.

Fool!

Mentally kicking herself, the young medic nods along with the T'Lara's words.  When she finishes, Azami takes a silent breath to prepare before responding.  "I would indeed enjoy a tour of the ship, when you have time.  If that would be now, I only need to drop this off."  A small movement indicates her bag.  "But first, I must apologize to both of you."

And now she does bow, holding it.

"I came here on assignment.  Upon sight of the ship's damage, I should have been cognizant of a possible reason for my orders; an assignment for me, yes, but to fill an empty place in your crew, a place once held by a friend you may have lost to whatever caused the damage.  It was insensitive of me to speak of it so casually."

And she straightens, meeting the eyes of first Chief Carter, then the Lieutenant Commander.  "And if that is the case, I am sorry for your loss."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:49, Sun 13 June 2021.

"You don't give that a second thought," Carter drawled, his eyes earnest.  "We all know it's part of wearin' the uniform.  You came here to help take care of us; we're grateful to have you."

"Best we t'honor the fallen is continue their work, and keep looking out for each other," he added. "Right, Counselor?"

Starbase 24
Commanding Officer's Office

Admiral Helon Chichester the IX sat behind his desk, absently toying with a model of an early-model starship... a Marklin-class destroyer... and staring at the glowing monitor before him, the blue light from the screen a stark contrast in the darkened office.

The door buzzed, and he put the model down.

"Come," he said, the Tennessee twang ringing in his voice.

Dr. Ranse Layne entered his old friend's office...

"Doc," Chichester smiled, indicating the seat opposite his desk.  "Grab a chair.  Let's talk."

"Let's start with why you want this assignment, after all these years... at your age... OUR age."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:09, Sun 13 June 2021.

In reply to ADM Helon Chichester IX (msg # 62):

Tall and lanky, Ranse has hair that has started to grey, but his step is still lively, and his eyes still sharp.

He smiles at the sight of his old comrade. Helon had risen quickly thru the ranks, he always had that magical triad, daring, cunning and luck. Even when they were both still cadets at the academy Ranse knew Helon was destined for bigger and better things.

"Thank you sir," Ranse said, always a stickler for form and the chain of command.

He took a seat, back straight, feet together. Helon knew better than to tell the doctor to relax; while in uniform, this was how Ranse was most relaxed. It was an effort for him to loosen up when on the clock.

Not that the two of them hadn't loosed up when off the clock, a memory that simultaneously made both men smile.

"Perhaps for the same reason you turned down a posting on Earth when they decommissioned the Indomitable, sir?"

Ranse hadn't served with the ADM on that ship, but they both knew the fastest track upwards at this point in his career would have been an office at one of Star fleets main locations. Starbase 24 wasn't 'punishment' but it wasn't the place 25, or even 30 year old Helon would have chosen.

The Admiral's eyebrow lifted at the reference, but one of things that defined Ranse, and that Helon most relied on in his old friend, was his honesty.

"Not ready to give up the adventure, eh old friend?"

Ranse nodded in agreement. "Our adventures are very different, you were always a warrior and a diplomat. In more dangerous times Star Fleet would never waste your skills here, Admiral.
Nothing against your fine base, and I am certain you run this place very well, but with your skill set  and experience you could be doing so much more.
It's different for me, they would put me in the labs, my work would be valuable but not noteworthy. And I would shrivel up and die. I have no family, no home life and no love of big cities.
I could retire to the colonies, birth babies and cure local diseases.
But my family has always been my crew mates, and my home, on board a ship. I first stepped aboard the Horizon, I knew I never wanted to live any other kind of life."

Helon had shared a cabin with him on that first cruise. They had bonded then, and been close ever since, no matter how many light years came between them...
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:08, Sun 13 June 2021.

Tsolo is back with the conn team, which is checking equipment, ensuring the quick availability of spare parts, and practicing procedures. However dull all this seems, team members who have practiced as part of a team (dance/music/sports) appreciate the desirability of doing this. At some time, LT Saghalie raises the desirably of each team member specializing in a selected language.

https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Language

Top 5:
    Klingon. Spoken by: The Klingons. Klingon is the most famous of the Star Trek languages. ...
    Vulcan. Spoken by: The Vulcans. ...
    Orion. Spoken by: The Orion Syndicate. ...
    Gorn. Spoken by: The Gorn. ...
    Romulan (Rihan) Spoken by: The Romulans (or the Rihannsu)
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:32, Sun 13 June 2021.

T’Lara nodded in agreement with the chief.

“Azami, you’ve been nothing if not kind and considerate.  We’re fortunate to have you onboard.” 

T’Lara considered compassion and empathy to be a vital component of medicine.  It was the foundation on which the entire practice was built upon; being sensitive to another’s suffering, and be willing to help alleviate it.   Azami displayed all those qualities in the span of this short conversation alone.  T’Lara was sure that she would do well in their chosen profession; her praise was genuine.

“Let me show you to your quarters, and then the tour I promised you.  No time like the present, right?”