[USS Charon] SD241003.27 || Joint Log "Gathering Storm" Part I || Captain Shiarrael t`Rehu, Cmdr Dylan Marcus, Cmdr David King, LtCmdr Quentin Calhoun, Brevet 1st Lt Brent Warren, Sajel & assorted Vulcans

 

[USS Charon, Transporter Room]

Shoving her way through the throng of Marines gathered in the stuffy transporter room Shiarrael made her way to the transporter PADD and stepped up using the raised platform as a stage to address everyone present "we have very little time so we will need to be both swift and efficient.  Our main priority is to evacuate any survivors aboard the vessel and to subsequently destroy it before it can fall into Romulan hands.  This mission may seem simply put- but it will not easy."  No, it certainly wouldn't be easy.  She looked at the chiefs and nodded her head "finalize your preparations, you have three minutes." 

Stepping down she un-holstered the phaser strapped to her belt and replaced it with a disruptor pistol.  Snapping the crude and deadly thing into place she leaned against the transporter operations console and slipped the helmet of her EVA suit into place.  When she finished she watched the rest of the group and counted down the remaining time.

 

Like the Captain, Marcus had his own custom weapon choice. Instead of the normal Phaser II, he opted for his C-90 Defender; a custom phaser pistol. more accurate than a standard phaser and it could be combined with attachments to make a somewhat shorter rifle than a Phaser III. He checked his equipment one last time before stepping up to the transporter pad.

 

Doctor King stepped up onto the transporter with nothing more than a standard-issue phaser and a medical kit over the shoulder of his EVA suit. Out of the two roles it was difficult for him to decide which he enjoyed more: warrior or medic; however, the choice of which to take up at the moment was simple. On Charon he was Chief Medical Officer, and as such he could not (and would not) allow himself to break his cover. Checking both the power level on his phaser (setting it on stun), he merely watched his commanding officer and waited for her next order.

 

Quentin arrived to find the other members of the away team preparing weapons and the rest of their kit. He hated EVA suits and for some reason always seemed to get very injured while wearing them. It was safe to say, as the first away mission he had been on since the life-changing condition he was blighted with he was certainly nervous. He was however dosed up on painkillers and carried with him a reasonably large engineering kit and a standard issue phaser strapped to a holster on his waist. Under one arm he was holding the helmet and as he walked in he nodded to the rest of the team and waited for the order.

"Time is up."  Shiarrael stepped onto the transporter platform and waited for the others to gather.  After a few seconds it became quite crowded, all of them wearing the bulky EVA suits.  "I hope all of your equipment is secure- it would be a shame to lose any of you through stupidity."  Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the group through the glass of the helmet's facemask "energize."

 

 

[Main Engineering, Temep`Shar – coordinates unknown]
2nd Day in the month of re`T'Khutai, YS 9022

 

They watched the blue columns take shape in the darkened corridor, scarcely cleared of the worst of debris and illuminated only by the dim copper light emanating from engineering. Someone had known quite well indeed where to best transport a possible rescue team, and it was duly noted by seven pairs of calm, observant eyes, just as the fact these transporters were Federation technology.

Sajel stood at ease, deceptively tranquil with hands clasped behind his back, the graying head with aquiline features canted near imperceptibly to one side. His terracotta uniform seemed to shimmer in the warm light that cast deep, rich shadows and lest anyone should mistake him and the woman by his side for aught but what they were, night black sword hilts protruded over their shoulders.

 

Standing in the approximate middle of the devastated engineering section, the two Vulcans were easily seen and in turn, saw quite well indeed. Tall and willowy T'Min's hand nonchalantly rested against the sidearm in her holster, and she made a point of keeping her level stare on the leader of the group that had just materialized right outside the forcefield protecting them both from the vacuum present in the rest of the ship and rude intrusion.

Somewhere off to the left, there was quiet shuffling, young Havor from the sound of it whose curiosity as usual overruled any safety concerns, but one might hope he would at least see the logic of staying out of any possible line of fire, while he and his colleagues were warded by two of the V'Ket not quietly concealed within shadows.

 

Starfleet EVA suits, Marine armor. Humans, or species looking sufficiently alike. All that, T'Min saw and knew her Companion did as well, yet her gaze remained fixed …. on her. Features like chiseled from the finest marble, delicately slanted brows clearly visible for she stood close enough to the door to touch the forcefield, and lest there be any doubt what she was … radiant violet eyes, alight with anger.

Illogical, to send one such as this if all this were an elaborate deception. And yet … would Sajel risk it? She got her answer a mere 0.8 seconds later, when he nodded silently towards the one station still lit and manned.

 

T'Min could not see it, nor truly hear, but there was a sense of power straining as the shields around them dropped and rose again, encompassing the corridor, while the forcefields holding off the vacuum remained. And in a flicker of light, two more of those sprung up in the dark hallway where their guests had arrived, effectively closing them in for long seconds before the one separating them from engineering collapsed and air rushed out to fill the space.

So, this was how it would end then. One way or another.

 

Air, Shiarrael didn't feel it through the bulky suit but she could hear it whistle in to fill up the vacuum.  Her eyes focused on the Vulcans as she carefully unsealed her helmet and pulled it off.  Her raven hair flowed out of the bulky headpiece and fell to drape her shoulder "I am Captain Shiarrael t'Rehu of the Federation vessel Charon." 

While she resembled them in appearance the expression of angst shown clearly on her face and anyone would easily notice she was no Vulcan, most of all, the group in front of her "we must begin an immediate evacuation, we have very little time. As I speak Romulan forces are on their way to seize this ship- I cannot allow that to happen."  She smiled "so it would be in your best interest to begin vacating it immediately."

 

Sajel had expected as much, and though he could not see it, he heard the scientists and technicians move restlessly. Just as he could sense the silent, fierce light shining in T'Min's eyes.

t`Rehu. What an interesting irony indeed.

 

"Be welcome on board Temep`Shar, t'sai." His bow as was immaculate as if he were greeting a diplomat during a reception, but neither he nor any of the others moved from their places.

"While your suggestion is certainly logical, may I inquire how you propose to proceed after the evacuation?"

 

"It all depends on whether or not we survive this first step." Shiarrael looked behind her "First Lieutenant Warren take up defense positions. Commander Marcus I want you to organize the evacuation and Commander King I want you to assist him. Commander Calhoun, aid where necessary." 

 

Dylan nodded and stepped forward. "How many crew do you have aboard?" he asked. "Are any of you injured?"

 

At the mention of wounded the Doctor stepped forward next to Commander Marcus, his hand quickly moving to the medical kit, ready to move at the first request.

 

Quentin had moved over to the warp matrix and was looking at the battered machinery with a certain level of awe. He heard the order and snapped out of the daydream of warp mechanics and returned to the group waiting to be instructed further.

 

"Yes Captain," Brent looked around at the area before he turned back to the Captain. "Captain we can secure this area but is there someplace out there that might be better for us to hold? Chances are no one will beam into a group of us as it causes too much crossfire and death on their own part.  But if there is a more sensitive place for us to go to, perhaps one that they will have to come to in order to take the ship over completely? Or is that this here?" he asked as he looked around.

Brent looked between the Vulcan's and the Captain for a moment before he turned and began to give orders while waiting for a response to them. "Internal structure looks like it will give out if we use the kinetic weapons. Last resort only. Clear out fields of fire if you can, we might be staying here or we might be going someplace else."  With that Brent turned back to see what any response he might get from them.

 

 

 

[To be continued …]

 

Captain Shiarrael t'Rehu
Commanding Officer

 

Cmdr Dylan Marcus

Chief Security Officer

 

Cmdr David King

Chief Medical Officer

 

LtCmdr Quentin Calhoun

Chief Engineering Officer

 

Brevet 1^st Lt Brent Warren

Marine Commander

USS Charon

 

 

Sajel  

V'Ket

 

& a host of assorted pointy ears

 

Temep`Shar

 

 

[USS Charon] SD241003.24 || Joint Backlog || "Delivering Deception" - Cpt Rehu & Amb Lamont

[ BACKLOG – Takes Place Before Current Events ]

 

### Personal Quarters – Deck Two ###

Lamont threw several books over his shoulder and scattered padds across his office desk searching for his notes on certain matters.  At last he found what he was looking for and copied the padds contents to his computer.  After some work he finally had complied a detailed report and was about to send it when he suddenly stopped.  No.  He would deliver this in person.  He had put a great deal of thought and research into fulfilling this request.  There would no doubt be questions for which he would need to answer in person.  Not exactly relishing the thought, he grabbed his uniform jacket and quickly pulled it on.  Grabbing a cup of cold tea at the edge of his obsidian desk he gulped down the contents, having had little to eat or drink in the last 24 hours, before collecting several padds and exiting his quarters.  His destination:  the Bridge.

###  Main Bridge  ###

The Ambassador stepped from the turbolift onto the always lively bridge and was immediately taken by the immense beauty before him on the ship’s viewing screen.  He had been so busy as of late he had not paid any attention to the starry splendor outside in the stellar nursery.  Rounding the railing, Lamont found the captain in her chair with her usual, characteristic scowl upon her features.  Did the woman ever smile?  He wondered.

“Captain, might I have a brief moment of your time in private”, Lamont asked.  “I have several proposals for your review per our last conversation.”

Shiarrael glanced at Lamont, talking to him often left her with a headache- something she could ill afford right now, but she did give him a task.  Smothering the sigh that attempted to edge out she nodded her head “very well, but make it brief ambassador.  Time is something I cannot give out freely right now.”

Ian nodded and followed the captain into her ready room.

### Captain’s Ready Room – Main Bridge ###

“Sir, I have here a carefully crafted plan per our recent conversation in the turbolift about a certain Vulcan problem.”  Lamont laid a padd in front of the captain for her review.  “Per your request I have taken the initiative and developed several contingency plans woven into a complex ruse should the Charon stumble upon the Temp’Shiar and should the Romulans appear before we can destroy it as you fear they might.  It is my hope that if the worst does occur this plan can be activated to ‘buy’ you the time you require to conduct whatever operations or actions are required.

 “I will attempt to summarize its contents to expedite matters.  You no doubt are busy and I know how much you enjoy our chats together.  However, I would be quite remiss to hold you from your duties.”  He couldn’t resist prodding the captain just a tad.

He was long worded- it was this particular trait that absolutely annoyed her, but one that could be used effectively against her kin.  If they did not tire of him early and destroy the Charon at least “mister Lamont, just get to it- as I have said, time is something I do not have in abundance.”

Ian nodded at the captain’s interruption and moved to her window peering out into the multi-colored gases and new stars.  It was a breathtaking sight.  Hopefully it was not his last.

Turning back to the captain, Lamont continued.  “Captain, despite whatever faith in my abilities you may have, I cannot under any circumstances stop Romulan warships and its commanders who are hell bent on obtaining this Pandora’s box the Vulcan’s appear to have constructed.  Even with my skills, which I submit are formidable, mere words would have little effect on your people given what is at stake.  Romulans are a people of action as I no doubt know having experienced that first hand on several occasions.”  Despite recent and fresh memories of the interior of the brig, Lamont continued.

Raising his voice just a bit to deliver his point, Lamont continued.  “However with your permission and indulgence along with some props and clever acting I believe I can slow them down long enough for you to accomplish your goals should the worst indeed occur.

If we do find this ship I assume your goal will be to destroy it as quickly as possible.  I have given much thought to this; however, should there be survivors aboard you will be presented with a substantial dilemma.  The weight of that decision I do not envy however should there be survivors and should you chose to rescue them – time will not be on your side.  If the Romulans make an appearance matters will quickly become problematic with each moment a step closer toward a dark future.

My plan is as simple as it is complex.  It is made up of the following components if you are interested in hearing my ideas.”

“Continue.”  Shiarrael said tiring of his long winded dialogue.

“Upon activation of this subterfuge the following must occur in clockwork order. Beginning with the following if we have any chance of stalling the Romulans.

First.

 I will need to appear to be in command of the Charon as its acting captain.  I will inform the Romulans that Shiarrael T’Rehu is dead.  This should cause them roughly one to two minutes pause given such a radical claim.  They may or may not believe it, but they will be forced to contend with the statement nonetheless.  Since they will be most likely arrive in a supreme position of power they should be willing to speak briefly and inquire as to your alleged demise fearing no retribution or event beyond their ability to influence.

My part will be simply as an actor.  I do not seek nor desire any trappings of command.

Second.

And the most ingenious part of the deception - I anticipate the Romulans will grow tired of talking roughly two minutes after I inform them about your demise.  I will of course threaten to destroy the Vulcan ship if they attempt to secure it.  They will no doubt ignore my bluff.  When they do decide to act, I will of course destroy the Vulcan ship with the Charon’s weapons.”

Lamont raised a finger with a strong smile to prevent the captain from interrupting.

“I of course will not actually do any such thing.  Engineering believes they can extend the Charon’s shields around the Vulcan ship and apply a..what was it…general dampening field.  This should block the ship’s emissions giving the appearance of nothingness timed in conjunction with a weapons display which while impressive will actually be several torpedoes and phasers set at low levels simply for dramatic effect.  In addition to the dampening field a holographic projection of the starfield deployed in front of the Temp’Shiar should mask the ship long enough to fool the Romulans into believing it was destroyed.  It is nothing more than high tech smoke and mirrors.  The Romulans will likely see through the ruse given enough time.

With the Vulcan starship seemingly destroyed the Romulans will turn their aggression upon the Charon.  However I have anticipated this as well.  At this juncture I estimate that approximately eight to ten minutes will have passed.  I am afraid this is the maximum amount of time I can procure given the variables involved and even this is simply an estimate.  As you well know, things seldom, if ever go exactly to plan.

At this time I would hope the Vulcan ship can be destroyed in reality with enough time having been procured to perform search and rescue operations and evacuate the Vulcan ship of personnel.

The Romulans will want some prize to claim if they are denied the Vulcan secrets and will be quite enraged once they realize they have been duped.

The computer core, personnel, secrets, and technology of a Federation ship may suffice though I doubt they would be willing to destroy us and return to their superiors empty handed.  Here is where I must attempt a supreme bluff.  You captain will need to initiate the ship’s auto destruct sequence.  I do not believe we can fake this as Romulan sensors would most likely detect any tricks having been fooled once before.  They will be vigilant.

The Romulans will have two things against them – if they attempt to seize the Charon you will of course destroy it to prevent it from falling into enemy hands.  I will also inform them that should the Charon’s fate end in its destruction that Starfleet Command has already been briefed on the situation and that if no future communications are received they will know precisely what has occurred.

If our fate is death then our destruction will expose the Romulan’s plans, create a severe diplomatic and political incident and isolate the Empire reducing its power lest it risk all out war with the Federation over the Charon’s demise at their hands.

Upon realizing this fact, they will have no choice but to let us go.  They cannot destroy us and an attempt to board or seize the Charon will inevitably result in its destruction via use of the auto-destruct mechanisms.  Starfleet will know what has happened, assuming you send them a coded message now informing them of our current predicament.

Unfortunately, sir, this plan while ingeniously clever, will not win you any friends within the Empire.  If you show your face you will most certainly be branded a traitor in the eyes of your own kind.  The ruse of your death while convenient also serves to shield you from such dishonor.”

Lamont paused for a moment realizing he was treading on sensitive ground.  “Captain, I do not know of the details and it is none of my business however I do know that you did not leave the Empire on good terms.  While the details are not known to me I do not wish to see you utterly ruined as a traitor which may cost you any hopes of one day returning or indeed the friendship or loyalty of those you may know.

Lamont’s tone changed slightly as he continued.  “We do not get along well Captain, however I would not wish such a stigma on even my worst enemy.  I have felt the pain of rejection as my own family’s name has been tarnished by false accusations which I have yet been unable to disprove.  I would not wish to see you unnecessarily bear such a brand though I suspect you would be able to endure the hardship given what I know of your character.

I submit that lying about your demise may indeed be cowardly, however I feel you deserve every consideration given the nature of this mission.”

Shiarrael stared at him for a long second.  “I apparently have underestimated your abilities…” although the suggestion that she play dead seemed to be more for personal pleasure for the Commander she nodded her head “very well, implement what you can.  Work with Commander Falcon and Tyrax- they will be in charge if I am ‘absent’ though I believe such subterfuge will be short lived, it will certainly distract them.”

Lamont nodded.  “You will have my best sir.  I pray it is indeed enough given what is at stake.”  With a curt bow the Ambassador turned and left the captain in peace to prepare for perhaps the toughest and shortest negotiation of his career.

 

~ Fin ~

 

_______________________________

Captain Shiarrael Rehu

 

And

 

Ambassador Ian Lamont

 

[USS Charon] SD241003.24 || Joint BackLog "Past Sins" Part IV || Lt Cmdr Sakarra Tyrax, Brevet 1st Lt Brent Warren

=/\= Eris Deck, Main Lounge =/\=

 

"And you are quite correct."

To her own surprise, Sakarra did not hesitate to reach for him and let her fingertips rest against the palm of the offered hand. More surprising even, she barely blinked when Brent took the opportunity to interlace his fingers with hers, prompting a deeper, more profound warmth to rise in her blood.

The good with the bad. Well, as far as she was concerned the good was very good indeed, and the bad … would be dealt with. One way or another.

She nodded calmly in agreement with his wise observations and decided to focus on the good for the moment, specifically the opportunity to learn from and about her Companion.

"Though I am still unsure what the human custom of 'dating' entails. The references in the library computer are either vague or contradictory."

 

"Actually, what you and I did before I first kissed you in the hall is actually a good example of dating really," Brent said with a wink before the waitress came over with their meals that they had pre ordered from the chef. Brent had felt the need to have seafood and had a small bowl of clam chowder as well as a bit of steamed dungeoness crab and some white rice to go with it and of course some melted butter. He began to crack open the crab with what appeared to be excellent skill before he began again as the waitress left. "Well the part where I started asking you to do things with me.  Not so much the nearly being killed in the holodeck or dying in flight back to the Charon," he said with a wink. "Doing things together, things that we like. Having meals together, talking. Getting to know one another. That's dating."

 

"Oh." She looked at him over steepled fingers, both brows climbing slowly, while the appetizing scent of green curry wafted up towards her aristocratic little nose.

"So you did in fact try to … oh." Sakarra would have chuckled at herself for not having come to the conclusion sooner, but then again she had never been good at deciphering all but the most direct signals in such matters. "You were attempting to tell me you … liked me … even before that night."

And most likely, she had responded in all the wrong ways. Perhaps she should not be surprised Brent had proven not easy to discourage, but in this light the fact he had even dared to make the bold advance after all … was something worthy of note.

 

"Fascinating."

The young Vulcan carefully picked up the lemonade, something she had developed a taste for after her first curious examination of what was obviously one of her Companion's favored beverages. Acrid and refreshing, it was vaguely reminiscent of sash-savas, though slightly sweeter, and she found the combination quite becoming.

"On your world, it is the customary courtship ritual then? Or is it only to indicate one desires …closer acquaintance?"

Not that she had any hope to ever truly understand the complicated intricacies of human social behavior – but inquisitive by nature, Vulcans had tried since first making contact with this race and were not likely to stop their efforts any time soon.

 

Brent nodded to her. "I was yes. I didn't think I was doing a very good job though as you had not changed anything about your presentation. Either being more distant and giving me a sign that you were uninterested or else acting interested. Since you were doing neither of those I went for broke and gave you a kiss to make it painfully obvious just how I felt about you," he said giving her a wink. "Glad I did actually."

Brent cracked open one of the claws and began to remove the meat before dunking the succulent crab into the butter before popping it into his mouth. When he was done chewing he responded, "Kinda. There is no one set way of having a 'courtship ritual' so to speak. Although with most humans it is the man who normally initiates things and takes the aggressive role by product of several millennia of a patriarchal society I suppose." He began to crack another crab before he turned to the second part of her question. "That second option normally is a part of our courtship rituals. How long one waits before one starts being 'better acquainted' with his or her partner depends on the couple. I almost stopped that night when I kissed you first. I wasn't sure if I would be rushing things. But then you kind of dared me to either stop or continue on. And you know how well I respond to dares..."

 

"Oh, indeed." This time, the slanted brow climbed in a fashion relaying quite obvious amusement, and a silent acknowledgement of the things Brent was … hinting at.

"Although it is not only patriarchal societies in which the male is the one seeking to win a potential mate's favor." Had they been alone, the smile tugging at the corners of Sakarra's mouth might have shown clearly on her serene, unmoved features. As it was, their earlier show of affection and obvious familiarity already was the subject of several conversations well within the range of Vulcan hearing and the dark haired young woman felt it prudent to present nothing but the most placid of demeanors.

 

She decided to turn her attention to the food for the moment and found it as agreeable as always – in a way, Miss Betty had once observed, Vulcans with their tendency to appreciate spiced dishes were the dream of every cook skilled in Cajun cuisine, since they were not only grateful patrons but fully able to discern and enjoy every nuance of the effort put into preparation of their meals.

And grateful Sakarra was, evident by the fact that despite her habit of savoring every bite, the plate was cleaned of every last morsel in short order.

"By 'went for broke' I assume you mean the inherent risk of possible rejection?" her dark gaze settled on Brent after she had nodded a courteous 'thank you' to the waiter retrieving the empty plate. "I must admit the possibility of your interest being of … this nature had never occurred to me, so I am also 'glad you did'."

 

"Yeah. No one likes rejection, at least everyone that I have met. Normally it means a night of getting drunk at the bar to drown your sorrows as it were and stumbling home. You wake up the next morning, deal with the hangover and you go out and look for someone else that might suit your fancy," Brent took a drink from the glass of ice water he had before raising an eyebrow at her as he set it back down. "Really. You a gorgeous very sensual young woman here with no one noticeably attached to you. Why wouldn't I find you an incredible woman who I simply must see if she feels the same way," he said with a smile. "You sell yourself short Sakarra."

 

This earned Brent a glance one could almost describe as bewildered, but then the young Vulcan slowly shook her head.

"I am fully aware of eliciting … considerable interest on my homeworld, for numerous reasons. Even on Betazed, although I certainly do not precisely conform to the current beauty ideal there – however, the manner in which interest is expressed is usually direct enough for even me to comprehend. It is rather that it rarely happens for a non-Vulcan to find it worthwhile and … seek to know what is beyond the surface as it were."

 

Gentle amusement lingering in her low, resonant voice, Sakarra steepled her fingers under her chin again. "Essentially, I am used to being regarded as a fairly attractive adornment, or perhaps a walking computer with aesthetically pleasing exterior. Not gorgeous, and most certainly not sensual. And I believe if you queried anyone present here, not one would use the latter word. The former – perhaps a select few, I am not skilled in discerning such clues."

Since the only person on board who knew better was sitting across from her, it was a bet she knew she would win.

 

"There is a human phrase. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Those of us who know it and take it to heart do not care about what others feel or think. I know what I like and what I see right now," Brent reached over, taking her hand as she brought it down squeezing it gently. 'I like very much.'  He let go of her hand and the link before he began to eat again. "Well. I've never been to prey on other people's ignorance but well. Here I am, taking full advantage of it. And loving every second of it," he winked at her before popping another bit of crab into his mouth.

 

It did not precisely explain whether he had … known, or simply ventured an educated guess, but Sakarra's logic and instinct were in full agreement that the human sitting across from her was infinitely more perceptive than he cared to show. Certainly, he'd had the opportunity to observe her in a variety of circumstances, from their desperate flight through the nebula to an afternoon with the Captain's twins and the subsequent minor mayhem. But not once had she displayed any more than the unshakeable equanimity befitting a Vulcan, except … except the sudden, unexpected smile after waking from her healing trance. Remembering how she had felt at ease with Brent even then, and taken his courteous withdrawal as more proof he did not wish to cause a possible friend any discomfort, she inwardly chuckled at herself.

 

 

=/\= To be continued ... =/\=

 

Brevet 1st Lieutenant Brent Warren
Marine Commander

 

Lt Cmdr Sakarra Tyrax

Chief Helm

 

USS Charon