Having done everything he could, for the moment, Decker grabbed a quick meal and then headed off to check up on his department. He stopped by the primary computer complex and made sure that the routine computer updates were going smoothly and then went up to the bridge to check on the status of the exterior sensor repairs and made a few recommendations a requests to the engineering team working outside the ship.

In reply to DR Ranse Layne (msg # 63):

The old Admiral regarded his longtime comrade for a long moment, sitting back in his chair before he steepled his fingers.

"You know me," he said finally.  "I'd never take a desk job at the hind end of space.  There's more to Starbase 24 than you know.  And the Independence's mission.  We're on the hub of explored space and we're learning new things all the time... racing with the Klingons and Romulans to make discoveries before they do."

"You'd be valuable here, on the station.  You'll be valuable there.  But your gifts would be a helluva lot safer here."

A chuckle escaped the thin lips of the good Doctor.

"Safer has never been goal, you've traveled far with me old friend, and you have access, full access to my files now I assume. My gifts were only really brought to light when out in the world exploring, and danger has even enhanced them on occasion."

There were still things in his file that were considered highly classified. If Helon hadn't delved into his history yet, he will be in for a bit of a shock when he does. To the best of his knowledge, Omicron Ceti VII was still a proscribed world. He still had bizarre dreams of his time there. Maybe when this mission was over, he would put in a request to return.

"I am curious to see what Starbase 24 is up to though, I hope whatever happens, whenever it happens, it is within the limits of my security clearance."

He knew the admiral well enough to know what would come next, and there was no one else with whom he would break that particular regulation for.

Rising he headed over to the chest high cabinet on the way, and reached underneath to flip the switch that had been built into it. The front opened up smoothly to reveal a full bar.

There was never anything false between these two friends, not even synthehol.

The doctor poured two Aldebaran whiskies, two fingers each, the bright green fluid almost glowing even int he well lit room.

He turned to find the Admiral had already popped open his mini-fridge to pull out two chilled blood red Gorlocian Melon balls. He plopped one into each glass, then took his own.

"For medicinal purposes only, of course," Ranse said. Tapping rims together, they chuckled, and took a sip before returning to their chairs...

Relief, as both the chief and counselor chime in with sincerity; she hasn't offended.  Certainly it had been possible, and a poor beginning to any relationship...as well as poor appreciation for those who gave their lives in service.  "Thank you both," Azami replies, her her gaze shifting to rove, seeming randomly, about the cargo hold.  "I, myself, am grateful for your understanding."

Carry-on shouldered, she offers Chief Carter a salute.  "My thanks, chief, for your assistance.  I am certain to see you around." Turning to the counselor, Azami inclines her head in agreement.  "As you say, ma'am."  No time like the present, for the present is all they have.  "The tour would be welcome, as I have no experience on a ship this size.  I'm sorry to say my medbays before now have been planet-side.  Or on a starbase.    That small smile passes over her lips again, appearing and fading in a heartbeat.  "I'd like to be fully familiar with the Independence; better that than embarrassing myself."

Or failing to be in the proper place at the correct time during an emergency.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:53, Mon 14 June 2021.

To Harada


"My pleasure, Chief. I'm sure you'll do us all proud."

"Glad to hear it," she replied with a nod and smile. "Just let me know if you need any wiggle room."


To ch'Pertha

D'rala cocked her head, curious at his response. She'd thought the answer was suited to the question, but perhaps she'd been too eager to explain herself, and smothered the answer in too much information.

"If up to me, aside from the likes of active mission deployments, I would take a particular focus in crew management: organizing trainings, handling disputes, et cetera."

In reply to DR Ranse Layne (msg # 68):

"As soon as there's something definite that I can tell you, I will," Chichester said, taking a pull of the green whiskey.  "Your security clearance is pretty damned high, and 'Admiral's Discretion' goes a long way."

"I know all about your run-in on Omicron-Ceti," he confirmed.  "Now.  At the time, well.  We were all figuring it out as we went, weren't we?"

"Suffice it to say that there are those in high command who have... concerns... about you out in the field.  The names 'Gary Mitchell' and 'Khan Singh' keep getting bandied about.  But I didn't rise this high in the chain-of-command without gaining some pull.  I cut your orders myself.  I just wanted to make sure... that YOU were sure."

The two old friends clinked glasses and enjoyed their drink.

"The CO of Independence is newly-minted," Chichester added.  "An Andorian.  Came up through Tactical.  Good fighters, Andorians..."

"An Andoraian?" Ranse replied, pleased at the thought. "An honorable people, though eager to pull the trigger. I have worked with a few, but never served under one, this will be an interesting experience, I have no doubt."

He admired the glass for a moment, or perhaps the beverage within. He took the last swallow, then fished out the melon and took a bite. The sharp aroma filled the air for a moment, a pleasure for the senses. He popped the last bit in his mouth and chewed it slowly.

"I had the pleasure of meeting an Aenar once, he seemed to find my  mind... interesting. They seem a wise people perhaps more level headed that their more common blue-skinned kin. The Federation is lucky to include them."

He placed his glass down on the desk, and resettled in his chair, as if settling back within the more normal bounds of protocol.

"So, any sealed orders for me, or secrets not meant for mortal man?" His tight smile spoke of their shared love of horror fiction from the past. "If not, I should probably get myself piped aboard and settle in. You know it takes me awhile to get the office to my standards." Dr. Layne was known to be a strict officer, but his professionalism was beyond reproach. His knowledge base wide enough to have been published numerous times, and deep enough to have saved a few lives in his day.

ch’Pertha noted down Vex for ‘Personnel Relations’.
That was a significant duty, so in discussion with her, he took much of the Starfleet beureacracy into his portfolio.   From there, the two divided up the rest of the duties pretty evenly between them.

Once they were done, he seemed interested in discussing any perceived issues they shared regarding crew:  but as Vex was new on board, and hadn’t likely found time to even preview files or recent incident reports, he asked her to get back to him on that when she felt comfortable.

They discussed priority for maintenance: especially with their current docking schedule.
ch’Pertha had taken ‘maintainence issues’ into his duty portfolio, so it’d be his responsibility to ensure ongoing matters once they left space dock ... but Vex needed to be kept briefed regardless.


Once all the ‘shop talk’ was done, he asked her, “Now, is there anything you feel we need to discuss?”
She’d been very patient and co-operative as he’d worked them through all the agenda items he’d had, and he didn’t want to dismiss her before giving her a chance to discuss anything of import on her mind.
“... anything at all? even if it was on a more personal level.

“And a ‘thank you’ from me as well” T’Lara smiled gently at the Chief.  She found the older man endearing, especially the way he reassured Azami.  She’ll have to tell him how much she appreciated it the next time she sees him.

“Alright, lets be on our way.  Turbolift is that way” she signaled with her head toward the back of bay “but we will first need to check the ship’s computer about the quarters you’ve been assigned to. I hope you don’t have a problem sharing one*?”

OOC: *I hope I am right about this.  According to what I've read junior officers shared rooms on the ‘Constitution class’, so I figured it’s the same on the Miranda.

I regret that I missed this, when posted.   Sorry

When ch’Pertha received this request, he scheduled a meeting, among the others, and sent a response with appointed time.
He advised that should Decker wish:   XO Vex was now taking charge of crew management, and ch’Pertha would have no promblem asking her along (or Decker doing so) if Decker desired.


At the appointed time, ch’Pertha welcomed Decker into their private room, and offered him a seat.
“What can I do to assist you, Ltn Commander?”

Another smile from the counselor, if less of a brilliant one - this one more familiar, less brilliantly welcoming.  It speaks volumes, Azami muses; either this Vulcan has practiced multiple expressions for different situations, or T'Lara is considerably more emotive than the other Vulcans the petty officer has met.  Granted, that number wouldn't be considered a fair sampling of the populace, but Azami knows the Vulcan disposition from her own studies.

Not just from 'well, everyone knows that'; Azami is fully aware that what 'everyone knows' about different races is often grossly incorrect...offensively so.

It makes for an intriguing puzzle, something for her to ponder, or to ask the counselor about (should she find some way to avoid rudeness)...another time.  For now, her superior officer leads Azami on a tour, and that should occupy her full attention.  A twitch of the corners of her mouth heralds the brief appearance of her own small smile, once again evaporating into a serious expression.  "I have no issues with sharing a room," Azami assures her superior.  "I am accustomed to it; during my last assignment, I bunked with five others.  I had rather imagined I would end up sharing with the others from the medical wing, what with the various shifts, but whatever I have been assigned will be more than sufficient."

Keeping her bag slung, she waits for the counselor to access the information; it's possible that Azami herself isn't even cleared yet.

OOC - Azami being a petty officer, she's not even a 'junior officer' by Starfleet standards - she's enlisted. Shocking, but I just looked up the ranks on Memory Alpha (I had to, I was unsure myself!).  Going by blueprints of a Miranda-Class vessel I've found, it looks like she'll be in a room with a whole bunch of other people (like, minimum 11).
This message was last edited by the player at 00:09, Wed 16 June 2021.

Decker responded that he believed it would be most appropriate if this meeting was just between the two of them. He arrived promptly as scheduled with a field bag slung over his shoulder.

"Thank you for seeing me promptly and privately, sir. It's possible I'm making too much of this, but coming from Security, I think you'll appreciate my concerns. He sat in the seat indicated and placed the bag on the floor next to him. "In short, sir, with Lieutenant Commander T'Lara and Lieutenant Saghalie's assistance, I was able to decode a good amount of data that I downloaded from the artifact's computer. It wasn't a one-of-a-kind. And, sir...there appears to be at least one in Klingon space, and another in Romulan space. Artifacts similar, if not the same, to what we just encountered."

He paused and looked at the Captain expectantly.

ch'Pertha sat silent for some time, considering these assertions.

Then, he asked, "So why is this private and confidential?
Oh, I get your concerns, and am thoroughly intrigued to investigate further.
But I fail to see why this needs to be such a secretive matter?"

And waited for Decker to continue.

“Our enlisted quarters accommodate between twelve to eighteen” perfectly manicured fingers hovered over the computer panel “But the quarters are used almost exclusively for sleeping.  There’s plenty else to be, and do, while you are off shift” she tried to sweeten the pill of being forced to share a room with so many other people.  She knew how being deprived of privacy was a constant source of stress, especially on prolonged missions.

“Hah! Found you.  Deck 6, room P3. Across the Arboretum” she turned back toward Azami and gave her a brief nod “We won’t be using the turbolift after all; your quarters are right around this corner”  Literally. ‘Her’ room was barely a hundred feet away from the portside entrance to shuttle bay.

“Where were you stationed, before being transferred to the Independence?”

She started probing the young woman on their way over “Did you request for the transfer, or did Starfleet decide you were needed here most?”

She can’t help but be impressed by the counselor’s poise, and her clear attempts to make the best of what she, herself, no-doubt considers a difficult situation.  Azami has been dealing with the multiple bunkmates for her entire life in Starfleet – it can, of course, become difficult at times, and she appreciates the understanding.  But it’s part and parcel of where Azami works, and one of the challenges she has accepted as part of her lot in life.

One of several.

About to speak in reply, she cuts herself off when T’Lara locates her quarters.  Across from the arboretum?  She had not been aware that the ship carried such a feature.  But then, Azami considers, she has never served on a ship nearly this size.  Deck six?  Of how many?  “A lucky placement,” she admits.  “I expect I will spend some of my time off enjoying the neighbourhood.”  So to speak; truth be told, though, she finds herself relieved at the idea of a greenspace so close and available.  Probably crowded, of course; with over two hundred crew members aboard, even if the novelty wears off there will always be visitors.  No privacy there, either.  Not so important, Azami decides; her spare time is likely to be taken up by light duty and volunteer work, in any case.

There is always room for volunteer work.

And they’re away, heading toward the room itself, skipping the turbolift as unnecessary.  Azami uses this short walk to study the corridor.  Spacious, open, clean and bright, with crew visible moving in the distance.  Always daytime aboard a vessel, she reminds herself, and always people awake: carrying out tasks, taking their leisure, filling their bellies.  This is, in essence, a floating community that never truly sleeps, a drifting town in the middle of an icy, barren sea.  Sometimes it chills her, the void only a stone’s throw away; born and raised planetside, the petty officer wonders if she will ever become fully accustomed to her proximity to lethal emptiness.

Questions float her way, delivered in T’Lara’s warm tones.

“Starbase 73, ma’am,” she replies to the first, “close to the centre of Federation space.  It was a quiet posting.”  ‘Safe and bustling’ might describe the aging Starbase, a port mostly for civilians and trade.  It had not been the best possible place for Azami, for a variety of reasons, and she had kept mostly to herself.  That had proven advantageous; no metaphorical strings to snip when she had received her new orders.  “I had received orders to transfer to this Starbase,” she admits, “but while en route, I received a message that the destination had changed to this vessel.”  That trails off almost into a question.  “There was a need; I was already on the way, but not yet attached to the Starbase administration,” she concludes.

Possibly some of the notes in her file helped with that decision.

That second question, though…while she has covered the potential reason for her arrive aboard the Independence, Azami knows the other woman is searching for motivation, which would include her original reason for leaving Starbase 73.   ”The decision to transfer me to this Starbase, however, was not my own, nor did I request such,” she clarifies, voice still mild and even.  ”Starbase 73 met my needs, but I go where the Federation requires, ma’am.”  It occurs to her that T’Lara might take that as some form of oblique criticism or disappointment regarding the current posting; best to correct that before the idea sinks in roots.  ”I am, of course, happy to serve here as well, and will endeavor to do my best.”

Her gaze flickers to the other woman’s face for an instant; there, then away like darting dragonfly, continuing its unfocused roving about the corridor.  “And yourself, ma’am?  If I might ask, did you request your position on this ship, or were you assigned?”
This message was last edited by the player at 14:29, Mon 21 June 2021.

Decker frowned slightly. This was not going the way he expected.

"Commander, the artifact we boarded was in a state of disrepair, but it was perfectly functional and only collapsed due to our sabotage. It's quite possible that these artifacts in Klingon or Romulan space are functional as well, and there's no reason to think they'd be any less capable of taking control of them than we, by which I mean Dr. T'Lah, were."

He took a deep breath, "Surely our first priority at this point is to minimize any chance that they discover these artifacts, if they haven't already, and that means minimizing the number of people who are aware of them at all. I'm not concerned about Romulan agents stalking the corridors of Independence, but information has a way of leaking out. Isn't a certain amount of caution called for?"

“I hope you will have plenty of time to do so” she wished it not only for Azami’s sake, but also because her having time to enjoy the arboretum (or any other recreational activity) would imply that there weren’t any pressing medical emergencies forcing her to work extended shifts.  And that would be the best for everyone.

The corridor they’ve stepped into was only slightly less busy than the shuttle bay.  Most of the enlisted personal were quartered on Deck 6, which also housed the theater, the mess hall, and the previously mentioned arboretum.   There were always people up and about, and T’Lara, who was on first-name basis with half the crew, found it difficult to walk ten feet forward without stopping to say ‘hello’ to one of her colleagues.   She managed with a couple of nods, and one polite smile, preferring to give Azami her outmost attention.

She had, of course, no idea where star base 73 was located, and whether it was a planetside facility or a space station.  She’ll look it up later, she decided, rather than interrupt Azami’s flow with yet another question.

“Oh, I always wanted to serve onboard a starship, ever since I was a little girl” her voice carried a touch of excitement, all too happy to satisfy Azami's own curiosity 'to explore strange new worlds. To seek out new life and new civilizations'  she quoted right out of Starfleet charter "This is why I joined Starfleet to begin with.  After I graduated from the academy, I requested to be assigned to a deep space exploration vessel.  So here I am”   she stopped right in front of the doors to room P3  "-and here you are"

Certain the counselor is well-known, and clearly liked by most - if not all - of the crew they pass.  A good thing; Azami would be worried were this not the case.  A good thing for other reasons; it allows Azami to slide into the background, to ease herself into the ship without a great deal of attention being paid to a new face.  T'Lara occupies that attention at the moment, and for that the petty officer is grateful.

Best not to be the centre of attention.

T'Lara's explanation of her quest for adventure garner her another brief, direct look from the shorter woman, Azami's eyebrows slightly raised.  Definitely the most expressive Vulcan she has ever met.  "You seem to have fulfilled your dreams."  The corners of her mouth twitch briefly.  "I hope they have proven to be everything you have desired, ma'am."

No doubt they have come with some less-desired aspects as well; the shadows of damage on the hull, the shadows of loss on T'Lara's face, both speak volumes.

Turning, she faces the door.  Her shared room.  A frown dances on Azami's lips for an instant, before the young woman returns her attention to the counselor. "Did you intend to continue the tour, ma'am?  If you have tasks requiring attention, I understand." T'Lara is an officer, after all, and certainly there will be enlisted who can assist Azami if necessary.  "If not, I might simply drop this off..."  That said with a motion of her carry-on toward the door.  A small shrug follows.  "If we begin the tour from here, it becomes my starting point to understanding."

Understanding more than the ship; there are more questions Azami would like to ask, should the officer have the time.

"Caution, yes.   Absolutely.
But the need for 'privacy' between you and I?  Excluding the XO and our other officers ...
This is something we need to discuss as a Command Team.  And unless otherwise convinced, I see no need to withhold this information from Starfleet Command.
Do you have any reasons that would convince me to withhold this from our Executive Team?

Regardless, you research is exemplary.    Awesome work by yourself and our colleagues".

Decker should his head, "I apologize if I was unclear, sir. This information should absolutely be communicated to Starfleet Command, which is why I am bringing it to you. As for the XO or anyone else aboard, I suggest that the best reason not to share it with them is that there is absolutely no reason they need to know at the moment. If Starfleet Command decides that we'll have some further role to play, well...that would be different. In any case, it is of course your call, sir. But I wanted to make sure that it WAS your call, and not to disclose to anyone else myself. Sir."

He leaned back slightly in his seat and gestured to the field bag beside him. "This contains all the records of the recordings and our translations."

ch'Pertha nodded, "I understand.   And I can respect that position".
The man was following the chain of command, admirably.
And it was, indeed, ch'Pertha's choice from here.

"Is that information ready for transmission to Starfleet Command?

And while I respect you're thoughts on 'need to know', I am going to have a Command Meeting on this issue.
Myself and our XO.   Yourself, Lieutenant Commander T'Lara and Lieutenant Saghalie.
Lt Harada, I want her studying what blueprints you were able to find, along with the rest of you.   Between you all, we'll have the best chance for preparation.
And Dr Layne.

Can you have an appropriate briefing and presentation ready for us in 48 hours from now, Ltn Commander?  or do you need some more time?"

OOC note:    I do not need us to roleplay this meeting/debrief.   Just that it will happen in the narrative.

Beyond that, aboard the Indy, ch’Pertha wants Decker, T’Lara, Saghie and Hanara on this ongoing project. 

D'rala contributed her thoughts to the sorting of duties when appropriate, otherwise listening to ch'Pertha as she sought to gain a greater understanding of her new Commanding Officer. It had been a few years since a change in her direct superior. She'd grown quite attached to Commander T'Lah, but the Vulcan woman had certainly not been as ready to grace her with the likes of a smile as Commander ch'Pertha appeared to be. She'd respected his actions aboard the artifact, and the addition of geniality was a welcome one.

D'rala paused for a moment at ch'Pertha's question before deciding to barrel ahead.

"Yes, in fact. I would just like to tell you that I'll take great care with your people," she said, letting out a deep breath. "I know the situation you found me in, and what happened to most of my team, may inspire doubts, but I'll never let something like that befall people under my command again."

Decker took a measured breath and straightened up, not just his posture but his expression, which became carefully neutral. He appeared to consider for a moment, then nodded. "Of course, sir. That will be more than sufficient time. And yes, these materials are ready for transmission." He picked up the bag and leaned over to offer it to the Captain.

T’Lara nodded in response.  The assignment on the Independence was everything she could have hoped for.  They’ve already accomplished so much in such a short time; saving an enitre planet from a virulent disease, preventing the murder of billions of Klingons.  All the new friends she has made, the people she met.  If only it all didn’t come with such a terrible cost…

”Oh, I have an hour or two to spare” she reassured Azami, and followed with a smile ”And like I mentioned earlier; meeting new people is why I joined Starfleet to begin with.  You wouldn’t deny me the pleasure, would you?”