Shuttle, approaching Starbase 211

Iren gave the two letters one last check before hitting “Send”

The first (written in Andorian), to be sent to the Weytahn colony:

Dear all,
    Nearly there!  My first posting as senior Science Officer.  I’ll write again, if it’s possible after it’s all settled down.
     Sorry I couldn’t make it back home - the battle upset a lot of things, but everything is getting back on track now.
    Send Seri my best wishes for her new production.
Iren.

The second, to Starbase 11, repeating sentiments expressed in person

Dearest Jaivu,
   Thanks for a great few weeks.  Nearly at the new posting, so I’ll be busy soon enough.
    If you’re free next time leave comes around, maybe we can get together again?
Iren


The shuttle pilot announced that they were about to dock at Starbase 211.  Iren sent the messages, and prepared for disembarkation.  Excited and nervous about the new position - the stories about Phoenix’ recent activities adding to the apprehension.  It’s just a new posting he reminded himself.  Just a few more responsibilities- and you wanted that, right?.  Whatever.  He’d got over Wolf 359.  This couldn’t be that bad.  Nothing could,
This message was last edited by the player at 15:05, Thu 24 Feb 2022.

Message to: All senior officers
Priority: High

"The severe damage we took from the torpedo damaged emergency power shunts all over the ship.

Primary systems have been completely replaced, but there's hundreds of kilometers of wiring in secondary systems that are probably close to end-of-life.

I hope that I am wrong, but if we go to full combat power, particularly with the tactical upgrades, we may lose a lot of secondary systems. There may be fires.

Fixing this flaw would require a full engineering crew of 150 approximately nine months in drydock conditions, so we'll just have to fix the faults as they occur.

Recommend additional emergency drills for non-essential personnel and any civilians, as they are the most likely to be affected and the least trained."

A Tellarian, an Andorian and a Centauri walk into a bar...

...but this is no joke. Like the Phoenix's petty officers, these three crew members from USS Majestic have perhaps had a few too many. Like the Phoenix's petty officers, these three aren't shy about sharing their opinions. Unlike the Phoenix's petty officers, these three don't seem very supportive of Maxwell's actions. Things are heating up and about to boil over.

Sirin, of course, spotted them quickly. It was his business to notice things that were out of place, and he had been in an awkward spot where he didn't want to jump in between the formal introduction of two higher ranked officers, so he'd been looking for an excuse to get out of there.

For now, he merely kept an eye out on the three newcomers. It was not his place to take sides in an argument until regulations had been violated: these were off-duty personnel out of his department and not in his command.

He'd wait till they'd crossed the line before getting in the way. Of course, he kept an eye on them and quickly noted the position of the emergency lockers, the exits, and the nearest intercom to security.

Message to: Lt JG Sirin Norn
(CC: Commander Rebecca Byrne
From: Captain T'Leera

You are correct; the modifications are need to know. Given you are the chief engineer, you are one of those who needs to know as is Commander Bryne and the other department heads. Therefore, it is most expedient for me to explain what said modifications are when I meet with senior staff and department heads and can explain to all at the same time rather than message each of you separately.

We will formally meet before we depart.

Captain T'Leera

T'leera walked into the lounge and looked around, taking note of Phoenix crew - their locations and current state of inebriation. Given they were about to get underway it would be logical for her to find them on board the ship, preparing for departure rather than in the starbase lounge.

Logic was quite often thrown out the window when it came to the action of other sentients, humans in particular.

And, in this moment, a Tellarian, Andorian and a Centauri.

She walked to stand behind the three and cleared her throat. "Pardon me but my crew and I have work to do so if you would please be so kind as to move then I will not be forced to call station security. Good day."

Starbase 211, Deck 10 Lounge

After the Captain intervenes, there is a moment of grumbling uncertainty before long years of Starfleet discipline take over and the trio from the Majestic stand down their provocative actions. The Tellarian, Andorian and Centauri slink away while the crew members from the Phoenix refuse to make eye contact with their new Captain, Briggs in particular seems quite adept at finding any excuse to look away.

A moment of awkwardness casts a long shadow over the reception, until someone from the crowd shouts out "That's how ya do it Cap'n!"

Soft music seems to resume and a bit of life quickly returns to the Starbase lounge.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:57, Sun 27 Feb 2022.

T'leera looked around for the speaker, nodded to them, and sat down at one of the tables. She was unaffected by any awkwardness the others might feel and simply waited for her crew to come introduce themselves to her.

They were, after all, here to meet her.

The situation dealt with, Sirin made his way over and introduced himself.


"Greetings Captain Tleera.

I don't think we've had the chance to meet yet in person.
I look forward to working with you, Captain."

Vulcans and Zakdorn, typically, got along fairly well. While both races were known for their arrogance, both races were also known for having very well-ordered minds. Of course, it was sub-optimal to rely on racial stereotypes, particularly in Starfleet.

Starbase 211, Deck 10 Lounge

The door slides open, and Iren steps through, half looking at his PADD (which displays a rather concerning notification from the chief engineer, side by side with a mapping function).

He looks up and scans the room.  Fortunately the captain is easy to identify (though he makes sure to observe the rank pips before he is certain).  He approaches and introduces himself.  “Captain Tleera? Lt. Commander Th’atyil reporting for duty”.

From: Captain T'leera
To: Admiral Kirchner
CC: Starfleet Board of Promotions

Live long and prosper.

I have, as you are aware, recently taken command of the USS Phoenix and have a most peculiar issue. My Chief Engineer currently holds the rank of LTJG which places him in the position of issuing orders to officers who outrank him. I believe it would be logical to promote him to the rank of LT in a most expeditious manner as this might prove to be problematic.

To wit: per Starfleet regulations a LTJG is able to delegate only to enlisted personnel and Ensigns. Therefore he will be issuing orders to people who outrank him as well as heading an entire department rather than a division. This is in violation of Starfleet protocol and, given this ship's rather colourful history, is one more point of contention I do not feel is necessary for the smooth functioning of this vessel.

I therefore ask for LTJG Siron Norn to be promoted to the rank of LT prior to our departure. If you wish to make it provisional and pending performance reviews I will agree to this as it is only logical.

Sincerely,

Captain T'leera
Commanding Officer
USS Phoenix

The soft fabric of the Federation's Starfleet uniform felt like underwear and he had a constant sense of walking around undressed, but he squared his shoulders, sucked in his belly, and stalked along the wide, well-lit corridors of the space station. If he was undressed, so was everyone else, and his physical presence was nevertheless imposing. He towered over the humans, and a part of his mind, the cruel, childish part of him, enjoyed the sudden looks of fear and the subtle moving away from him as he entered any new space. These humans may have fought the Klingon Empire to a stalemate, but in a one-on-one setting, they seemed as timid as mice.

The telltale on his communicator delivered a steady stream of directions that brought him at last to the boarding facility for his new assignment.

"Lieutenant Kotar Krenn Sogh," he announced to the security detail. He spoke fluent Anglic, though his voice reverberated in the deep harmonics and rough consonants of his race. "Reporting for duty. I am assigned the post of Operations Officer aboard the USS Phoenix," he explained, holding out his communicator with his orders open for viewing.

OOC: I know the picture shows him in Klingon gear, but, what can you do?

Looking forward to gaming with you all.

T'leera stood and held up a hand to the LTJG and LCDR. "Live long and prosper, Lieutenant, Commander. Please, be seated. If you wish to eat or drink, feel free to order and put it on my tab," she said.

"I have access to personnel records, of course, but please, tell me a little about yourselves and I shall endeavour to do the same."

He considered for a moment, deciding that the best strategy was to speak and get it out of the way.

"I grew up aboard ship on the merchant marine fleet. I was training on ship systems since I was a child. When we were teenagers, me and my siblings transferred to the creche educational system.

While in school ground side, both my parents died: my mother died preventing a warp core breach after a pirate attack, and my father's ship vanished on the next run. It cemented my decision to join Starfleet and use my talents to help police against these attacks.

My sister is a professional athlete, and my brother is an artist on Andor.

Like most Zakdorn, I excel in games of strategy. I enjoy martial holo-sims, and I am an acceptable wrestler."

In fact, he finished third in weight class in his senior year at the academy... which included Andorians and Vulcans. But what was the point of bragging about coming in third?

He had other hobbies and a family, but felt that this was enough given that there were a ton of other officers ready to introduce themselves.

Iren looked inquisitively at the Captain - he found it hard to believe that she hadn’t read at least the basics.  But in these topsy-turvy times it was barely possible that she had more immediate concerns.

He waits until the engineer has finished before he adds his own.  “I was born on Weytahn - all four parents and my elder sister are still there.  No other siblings.“.  The captain was likely familiar with the circumstances of Weytahn’s founding - but bringing it up would not be logical.  Or relevant.  The history - was history.

“My last ship was USS Ahwanee, until it was…rendered inoperable.”.  That might more likely provoke questions, but Iren was reluctant to go further, unprompted.  But everyone seemed to ask about the battle. Unless they were there.

“ I joined Starfleet because of the opportunities for exploration and observations.  I have a paper in preparation about a cthonisn planet we discovered.  The elemental composition was unusual - metal enriched“ he finished.  “I can provide a copy if you wish“ it was a minor work really, but a publication was a publication.

"As I said, I have access to all personnel files and have read every single one of them but, I have found there are things not in the files. Things one can learn by the simple act of talking.

"I was also present at Wolf 359. It was, in fact, my first command," she said and, for just a moment, her eyes held a haunted look. "The USS Ticonderoga. I was XO when the bridge was hit, killing the Captain. I assumed command and used our ship to shield several others before we took another volley which left us dead in space. We drifted, surrounded by dead ships and the bodies of our fallen, for three days. Three days of hunger, cold, and rapidly depleting oxygen."

She brought herself out of the memory she had fallen into and looked at Commander Thatyil. "I am familiar with the planet you found and will read your paper with great interest."

She turned to look at LT. Norn. "Do you play 3D chess? I find it difficult to find players outside of Vulcan who can provide a challenge. It is a preferred leisure activity of mine."

What had begun as a painful but hopefully brief errand was suddenly in danger of becoming something suspiciously like a party.  Something had apparently distracted the first officer, and it must have been a pretty serious something.  Usually Devon had to deal with reprimands or threats of transfer, not being overlooked entirely.

On the other hand, now the captain -- who was indeed female, so score one for the microbiologist, though it wasn't going to save him -- had finally breezed in, which meant that Devon had another option for ending this increasingly torturous situation.  The last thing she wanted was to sit through a string of reminiscences about Wolf 359, especially since there would be a real danger of being expected or even ordered to share her own.  Not that she would, not even if every Admiral in Starfleet ordered her to, but she was, in her own way, trying to start off on the right foot.  So better to escape while she still could.

"Okay, so you want family stuff," she put in when there was finally a reasonable pause.  "Born on Earth, I have a mother, a father, a stepmother, a stepfather, and a younger brother.  He's a writer.  I graduated Starfleet Medical with honors, specialty in exobiology.  I don't bother with hobbies, my job is my hobby, so I'll just be getting back to that now if we're done.  Lots of work to do getting that Sickbay in order."

With that she spun on her heel and headed out of the room, then hesitated and turned back for a moment, trying to mind her manners even though she wasn't entirely sure that a Vulcan would appreciate the effort.  "Oh, and thanks for the invitation, Captain," she added, the awkward moment made more awkward as she was forced to trail off, realizing that she'd forgotten the woman's name.  Medical information and faces she could remember all day, but everyone seemed to expect her to remember names first, even though that wasn't a lot of help in a medical emergency.  "Thanks."

Norn tried his best to prevent himself from grinning: the previous conversation had been quite grim, after all.

"I... dabble. Expert level.
My best games are Klin Zha and Kal-toh.

But I will endeavor to surprise you.

He didn't know the captain's rating, but he assumed it was at least Master or Senior Master. When a Vulcan said something was their favorite game and they were three times your age, it was pretty much a foregone conclusion.

He had heard good things about Tongo from his sister: it seemed an ideal game for 3-4, with just enough luck to make a lower skilled player think they had . He'd have to try and get a set for it the next time he was near Ferengi space.

“I’ll send it immediately.” Iren replies, pleasantly surprised by the captain’s interest.  He got his PADD ready, and added “perhaps you have thoughts on the proposed mechanism?”  If that worked out - it probably wouldn’t - it would rather add to the significance of the paper.  Though testing the hypothesis would be difficult.  There was never a supernova when you wanted one.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:59, Wed 02 Mar 2022.

T'leera raised a brow at the doctor's rather brusque manner. There was a difference between the attitude of Vulcans and simple rudeness. Vulcans were succinct, to the point; something that was often misinterpreted as rudeness but was not.

The ship's doctor was rude.

"I was not asking for 'family stuff', Doctor - merely the kinds of things that are not found in personnel records. I find it useful, and comforting to other races, to know things about my crew. I believe I have learned a great deal of you already. Your dedication to your work is commendable. You are excused."

She hoped the woman's skill made up for the bedside manner or she would receive quite a few complaints from the non-Vulcans aboard the ship.

She returned her attention to Commander Thatyil. "Thank you, Commander. I am most interested to read your paper and, should I have suggestions, I will certainly pass them on."

Once her conversation with Commander Byrne had wound down, Valéria had given a crisp salute and moved off to the side to observe the lounge for a time. So familiar, and yet so different from the last Nebula-class that she had served on. Getting a feel for the energy of this place was like listening to a cover of a song that you were quite fond of, but the notes were slightly off from what you were expecting. Which was a poetic thought that would have made her father smile, if she ever decided to share it. Which she wouldn't.

When she saw the Captain enter, Valéria hung back for a moment to observe her. She had never served beneath a Vulcan Captain before, so she wanted to see how this one interacted with people first. The Vulcan were a magnificent, ancient people. But she did not care for Surak's philosophy on emotion. At best it created hyper-efficient consequentialists who were unflappable, and at worst it created such repressed emotional time-bombs that she truly feared for the day they let loose.

But that was enough judgement and people-watching on her part. Once the Captain had spoken some words with the other senior officers, she approached the Captain and stood at perfect attention when she came to an appropriate distance.

"Lieutenant Valéria Serrano, reporting for duty, Captain," the new Tactical Officer said smartly, all by-the-book at the moment.

She kept her gaze steady, and waited for the Captain to acknowledge her, at her earliest convenience.

"At ease, Lieutenant," T'leera told the newcomer. "Please, feel free to sit and join our conversation and tell me about yourself. Things I would not have read in your service jacket."

The Captain was rather different in her appearance, compared to typical Vulcans. She eschewed the short hair common to the race, preferring to wear hers long. It was brown/black and fell in waves past her shoulders. Her eyes were a piercing emerald colour as opposed to the commonly found dark eyes amongst Vulcans.

"Unfortunately you just missed the Doctor. Socialising does not appear to be one of her preferred activities whereas I find it beneficial to get to know my senior staff and department heads."

"Thank you, Sir," Valéria said curtly, before sliding smoothly into a chair and joining the other officers.

Valéria took a second to consider her answer before she gave it. Not that she wasn't sure what to say, it's just that organizing and entire person's essence outside of official paperwork was an interesting challenge.

"Well Captain, I'm not sure if you have had the time to read my annual psychological evaluations. If you haven't, then I should inform you before-hand of what you should expect from me. I am very ambitious, and plan on having a ship of my own to command before the age of forty. I have abandonment issues stemming from the death of my mother at a young age, and that has given me an insatiable need to be on the move, and experience the unknown. 'Wanderlust' is the archaic term, I believe. Despite being very open to new ideas, and an advocate for outside-the-box solutions, I can be very stubborn when I set my mind to something. A generous person would call it tenacity. A more blunt person might use less than kind descriptors. I have carried the nickname 'Lince' since I was a little girl. That is a Portuguese word, which is an Earth dialect of the South American continent. An affectionate title given by friends and family for my fighting ability and short stature. Needless to say, I can be very competitive when it comes to athletic pursuits. I am efficient, driven, blunt, and always look for proactive solutions to security and tactical situations. The one large deficiency I seem to have is in my personal, romantic life. Which I can only describe as 'Um incêndio radioativo em uma lixeira...que grita.' Beyond that, I am sure most of my extracurricular activities and hobbies are in my record," the new Tactical officer said bluntly, without a hint of shame or embarrassment.

"A 'screaming, radioactive dumpster fire'. That is certainly descriptive, Lieutenant," the Captain said with what might possibly be just the slightest hint of the beginning of a smile on one corner of her mouth.

"Your career goals are laudable. If you perform admirably then you can expect a good recommendation from me as is only proper. Make no mistake - I expect the highest level of professionalism and performance from this crew. I also, however, hold myself to these standards. No one is exempt from my expectations and that includes myself."

-----> to Shuttlebay