For those who want to RP ship’s life or personal pursuits outside of the current episode.

Glittering in the darkness, Starbase 211 sits on the edge of Federation space.

It's a squat, utilitarian place, putting repair and refit function over form.  Small tenders swarm over nearby ships, and, despite the peace treaty, local security patrols are active to ensure there are no Cardassian incursions.

Phoenix is docked here, completing repairs while new crew members are assigned to the ship. Fully half the ship complement has been transferred off to new assignments, many due to disciplinary reasons, or simply because Starfleet wants to break up the crew that went rogue.

As players arrive on board, feel free to jump in here and meet each other.

Lieutenant (Junior Grade) Sirin Norn was almost absurdly junior for his rank as chief engineer. However, several unlikely concurrences had resulted in the powers that be decided he was their guy.

The first was that the admiralty wanted at least some of the old crew to still remain on the ship who actually knew something about the ship, and as a very junior officer, Norn was a good candidate who probably wouldn't be in a position to lead a mutiny.

The second was that Norn had been the acting damage control officer when the USS Phoenix had taken a direct hit from a photon torpedo... without its shields. It would have been very strange to reward Norn with a promotion or a commendation for doing a good job blowing up a ship of a power they were at "peace" with, but this promotion showed that they recognized competence. Norn's career was short, but it was very solid.

The third reason, unfortunately, was Wolf 359. With the loss of so many ships and a probable war brewing with Cardassia, Starfleet had to sometimes make... unusual gambits in officer choices. Norn didn't like to think about that: he'd lost two friends and one rival who had bragged to Norn that he'd make full lt before Norn. He'd been correct: he'd received a posthumous promotion.

Getting the respect of the old crew and the new one as a Junior Grade Lt was going to require a series of skillful strategies, but that would be strictly a longterm project. Right now, he had another task in front of him: meeting the entire senior staff, more than half of which were totally new to the ship, and convincing the Captain that it wasn't completely mad to have a Cheif Engineer as green as he was. He had a strategy in mind for this, of course.

Not sure if you want to have us meet on the bridge, the magic meeting room, a starbase lounge, or do the whole formal "greet the captain in the shuttle bay with officers in full dress" thing.

[I'll just go ahead and pick a venue for the scene, if nobody else cares?  :) ]

Very contrary to the new Chief Engineer, the new First Officer had been promoted to her post precisely because she -did- stage a mutiny.  Or at least, she sort of stumbled into what could plausibly have been interpreted after the fact as a mutinous conspiracy, though in the actual heat of the moment it had been more like just a few officers roughly simultaneously realizing just how far off the reservation Captain Maxwell had gone, and making entirely independent decisions to refuse to participate in his one-man crusade.  Nonetheless, they had all ended up locked in the brig together while the Enterprise had been sent to bring the Phoenix back in line, and the subsequent investigations cleared them all of any wrongdoing, declared them to have been completely justified, and promoted them.  Beck was one of the younger people to be promoted to the First Officer position in recent memory, and was perfectly certain that she'd been chosen for her new post specifically in order to send a certain message loud and clear to any Maxwell loyalists still remaining among the crew.

Nonetheless, the third full pip on her collar was firmly in place on her uniform as she strode into the starbase lounge with its bank of windows overlooking the Phoenix's repair dock.  Ffssss, said the door as it closed behind her, and she glanced around the room, blinking to find only the one officer she already knew, at a function intended for new colleagues to introduce themselves to each other.  No doubt all part of Norn's master strategy for getting off on the right footing with the new kids.

"Lieutenant," she nods to the Zakdorn as she moves across the room to stand at the windows, hands clasped behind the small of her back, gazing out at the ship with her expression a carefully composed neutral blank.  "You haven't met any of our new faces yet?"

When the Muninn set down on the Main Shuttle Bay on deck 3, a short woman exited the shuttle and made sure the vehicle was locked-in and secure before she shut the hatch behind her. This was her first moments aboard the USS Phoenix. The first ship where not only she was in a command position, but she was going to be a Bridge Officer. Despite the nightmare that was the Battle of Wolf 359, it seemed that was the best thing to happen to her career. Involuntarily, her left hand went to the series of burns and lacerations on her side that no longer existed. Shaking her head, the muscular woman cast a baleful eye back at the Muninn.

"Memory, eh? Às vezes, temos muitas memórias..." she muttered to herself, giving the craft an affectionate pat before she bent down to grab her suitcases.

Having served aboard the USS Bellerophon for five years, she was used to the layout of a Nebula class starship. Although, every ship had it's own flavor and quirks. Valéria was sure something would throw her off before long. A quick stop in the Turbolift brought her down to deck 12, where she hastily threw all her Earthly possessions, no pun intended. Valéria took only a few moments to appreciate the sheer size of her new quarters (perks of command indeed), run a quick brush through her hair, and pull on her uniform coat over her undershirt. And of course, she made sure that her two new golden pips were attached to her collar and shining brightly.

After that, she hustled back to the Turbolift and made for the Forward Lounge on deck 10. She would have to meet the Captain and the XO in person, as tradition demanded. As soon as the lift stopped moving, she exited and stood at perfect parade ground attention. Seeing no Captain on the bridge yet, she directed her next words to the woman with the proper number of pips.

"Lieutenant Valéria Serrano, reporting for duty, Commander," she said firmly, but not the unnecessary barking that some of the younger and more eager Ensigns sometimes did.

When the XO addresses Sirin this is how he responds.
"Negative commander. I just got personsel access back this morning after my final deposition as well.

With the refit I haven't had the opportunity to review their files in detail, but I look forward to meeting the rest of the staff.

He was silent of course once the new tactical officer reported in. She reminded him of his sister in build if not temperment. He reserved judgemrnt of course.

"Speaking of whom..."  Beck sizes up the woman as she approaches, acknowledging her with a curt nod.  "At ease, Lieutenant," she says, offering a hand in greeting.  The first officer's grip would be somewhat out of proportion to the slenderness of her frame; apparently she was a woman who took her exercise regimen pretty seriously.  "Commander Rebecca Byrne.  You'll be taking over my post at Tactical, it seems.  Getting all settled in?"

Valéria took the offered hand and gave it a solid shake back. While it was clear that the Commander had a solid grip, Valéria only returned an equal amount of pressure. She had no need to show off the results of her training: she knew exactly how strong she was. When the handshake was over she stood at ease, arms clasped firmly behind her back.

"Yes sir. I will need to replicate some parrot stands and enrichment toys for Frederico after my first shift, but otherwise I didn't bring much. It will take some getting used to my own private room though. I've gotten used to the Hallway. As for the ship, yes, I will be taking over Tactical. If you would be so kind, I'm sure you know all the quirks and personality of this ship that doesn't show up on any tech manual. Anything that you could share would be helpful and appreciated, Commander," Valéria said seriously, indicating the Phoenix around them.

Starbase 211, Deck 10 Lounge

Snippets of a conversation overheard at the reception…

”I hear the new Captain is a real ball-buster” says a red faced petty officer from the security department, his speech slurring slightly.

His companion, a senior petty officer named Briggs, laughs a little too loudly, tipping back his glass and feeling no pain. ”Wouldn’t expect any less from the pencil necks at high command. Maxwell had it right, the brass aren’t the ones out here sticking their necks out past the edge of civilized space.  Can’t trust a damn Cardassian as far as you can throw ‘em”.

Brigg’s rancorous comments are unsurprising to veterans of Phoenix’s ship’s company. Rumor has it that after Byrne gave up her post at Tactical during Maxwell’s rogue crusade, Briggs stepped up to fill in. Unfortunately none of the co-conspirators on the bridge at the time gave any information that would incriminate Briggs and he walked away a free man after his court martial.

…and elsewhere

”They’re being pretty tight lipped about the modifications in the upper pod.” a junior engineering officer mused looking out at the Phoenix where she was moored to a repair pylon.

”Just repairs after the damage we took in that fight with the merchant ship, isn’t it?” replied his Endosian companion.

Shaking her head, the Ensign replied, ”Can’t be just repairs. The power draw is fifty percent higher after the refit work was completed. If they had just repaired the sensor modules, why would there be an increase in power consumption?”

…elsewhere…

Lounging in a red easy chair, one of the ship’s nurses mused ”So that’s about the size of it, Starfleet Command is moving us out of this sector and reassigning Phoenix to the Romulan neutral zone. Why else would we be restocking our Cartalian Fever vaccines to the Starbase supply depot?”

Her companion just nodded knowingly in reply.

Message to Captain Tleera
(CC Commander Rebecca Byrne
From: Lt JG Sirin Norn

"Captain, given the recent actions of the crew of the Phoenix, I can understand the strategic decision to reveal the new modifications to the upper pod on a need to know basis.

However, I feel the need to question the logic as to why the ship's chief engineer is not cleared to know the nature of these modifications. Unless we are taking the starbase with us, someone from my department is going to have to maintain those systems.

Would it be possible to have the specs on these modifications and be shown it's functionality, assuming the admiralty has at least let their Captain/XO know about this?

Thanks - Lt.(Junior Grade) Sirin Norn"

Internal Message
Lt. Jg Sirin Norn
To: Commander Rebecca Byrne

"Greetings Commander. I have numerous modifications and drill suggestions for my department, and some minor modifications to ship's systems that will increase efficiency.

Some, such as the uniform changes for engineering, I have already begun planning for.

Technically, some of these changes are not within standard regulations for maintenance. Many are what I would consider "common sense" upgrades, however, as they will effect the ship systems, I am required to ask permission of my immediate superior.

Details attached.
Norn is an "Intrepid" engineer who's got an invention perk. He was constantly trying to update the Phoenix's systems with suggestions, but kept getting shut down by the chief engineer, who probably complained about him at least once to the acting XO.

If I may, I've noticed that a common sentiment from old members of the crew is that they do not believe that the majority of starfleet are sufficiently ready for a Cardassian attack.

A detailed series of combat drills may delay fears that everyone else is "asleep at the wheel" as I believe the human expression states. I would suggest specific scenarios, but I wouldn't want to upset our new tactical officer.

Chief Engineer
Lt Jg. Sirin Norn"
This message was last edited by the player at 08:21, Thu 24 Feb 2022.

Devon was not in the best of moods, though the day had actually begun quite well.  For the first time, she was a chief medical officer, absolutely in charge of Sickbay, and as she worked on getting everything organized just the way she wanted it, she was as happy as she ever got.  Of course, the same could not be said of the other medical personnel.  About half of them were new to the ship after the mutiny or whatever it was -- Devon hadn't paid a great deal of attention to that part -- but only one of them had actually met her before, so they were nearly all having to adjust to her admittedly somewhat overwhelming approach.  Devon was fairly sure that the surgical nurse who knew her, from Starfleet Medical training, was actively hiding somewhere.

But after a while, one of the braver souls, a Trill microbiologist whose name escaped her, had interrupted Devon long enough to remind her that the captain was waiting in the Starbase lounge on deck 12.  After a brief pause, Devon had shrugged and replied, "Good for him," before diving back into her work.

"You mean good for her," the microbiologist said, awkwardly.

Devon sighed.  "Why do I need to know that the captain is in the Starbase lounge on deck whatever?"

"All the senior officers need to report to the captain.  It's protocol."

And there it was: the downside to being a senior officer.  Protocol was the main reason that her rank was still technically that of a mere lieutenant, though she cared even less about rank than she did about protocol.  She'd been promoted to lieutenant commander twice, and demoted twice, and the cycle would no doubt repeat itself at least once more, but the work would remain the same, and that was all that mattered.

She looked back at the Sickbay, still not quite the way she wanted it, then back at the microbiologist.  "Protocol.  Fine.  I'll go report.  Just make sure all the biobeds are fully recalibrated by the time I get back.  Whoever was handling the maintenance on these things did a terrible job."

Someone protested at this remark -- apparently the person in charge of biobed maintenance -- though she ignored them.  "Oh, and someone figure out why we have so many doses of Cartalian fever vaccines.  I didn't order those, and they're getting in the way."

Fuming quietly, she headed for the lounge.  Thankfully, she managed to remember the deck number, so at least she didn't have to explore the entire base.  When she arrived in the right spot, she quickly looked around, frowning.  As it turned out, there wasn't anyone of any gender with the rank of captain in the room, and she started planning what she would say the next time she saw the microbiologist.

Still, she was here, and, hoping she could get this out of the way now, she looked instead for the next highest-ranking person, a woman with short dark hair.  "I'm told I'm supposed to report," she said, her tone somewhere between uncertain and impatient.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:06, Thu 24 Feb 2022.

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