Skip to main content
Topic: CH03: S [D06|0901] Final Pieces (Read 5378 times) previous topic - next topic
0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.

CH03: S [D06|0901] Final Pieces

Chapter 03: Supplemental [Day 06 | 0901hrs] Final Pieces

[Lt. Commander Wenn Cinn | Turbolift | Between Decks | USS Theurgy] attn: @Auctor Lucan @BZ @Brutus

Yet again, Cinn wondered just what he was doing.  All throughout his fight with the Cardassians that was the standard refrain just before launching another insane plan to knock the spoonheads back a bit. He had wondered the same as he left Bajor to join Starfleet, another time after Thea deposited him on the bridge of Vector 2.  Now, here he was again, riding a turbolift to the Main Bridge of a recombined Theurgy but instead of resuming his old security station, he was going for the center chair.  Just what happened over here? he asked for the dozenth time.

Riding the turbolift with Stark at his side, the Bajoran seemed to be staring at the door with an impassionate face.  In reality, he was listening to the ship.  Underneath the turbolift’s hum there was a subtle groan from the hull.  Seriously damaged and subjected to stresses close to the design limits he prayed it would hold.  If the captain were still alive they’d bust both vector captains down to ensign and relegate them to plasma conduit scrubbing for the rest of their careers once they were reunited.  But, if Dr. Nicander was right, Captain Ives and all of the others that were taken were dead, leaving only the crew they had, their guests from the Endeavour, and Captain Ziegler’s Cayuga to keep the Borg on the other end of the apertures.  Cinn hoped things were going well for Ziegler, the window for their arrival at any given time.

Slowing to a halt, the turbolift finally opened, revealing the current state of the bridge: minor chaos.  Cinn could make out the phaser burns, scorch marks, and bloodstains denoting recent combat.  Several turned towards the lift, but Dewitt was the only one to stop what she was doing.  Standing out of the center chair she made the one announcement that Cinn never wanted to hear about himself: “Captain on the Bridge.”

Sighing, Cinn stepped out of the turbolift and went for the chair.  “As you were.”  There was too much to do, and not enough time.  “I’m assuming you’d like a briefing?” Dewitt asked, nodding towards the ready room.  Cinn nodded.  “Stark, you have the bridge.  Current vector senior staffs are to continue for the time being but have them coordinate efforts between each section.  I’ll make my decisions on a new senior staff once I have a fuller understanding of our situation.”  Punctuating his remarks, the hull groaned again, and this time it was accompanied by a minor shudder, bringing pause all over the room.  Hold together Thea…  Looking around the bridge before leaving for the briefing, Cinn spotted a new face: a black haired woman that while in uniform, had no rank indicator.  “Who are you?”

The answer raised the Bajoran’s eyebrow.  “Were you present when Commander Dewitt assumed command?” This, Zyrao answered in the affirmative.  “Join the commander and myself then.”  She was probably as close to a disinterested third party as they could have on board.  Next, Cinn saw their Diplomatic Officer, helping out with something.  “Ensign Eloi-Danvers, would you join us as well?  Your skill may be needed.”  He wasn’t sure why, but he had a feeling that the Betazoid might have something to contribute as well, not just because of her species, but also her profession.

Gesturing towards the ready room, Cinn braced himself for what is bound to be the beginning of a very long day.


GM Note: Posting order is 1) @BZ follorwed by 2) @Brutus and then @Auctor Lucan. @Brutus will sort out the situation on the Main Bridge while the talks in the Ready Room take place. If possible, it would be awesome if there's opportunity for the writers of the present characters on the Main Bridge to leave for a duration of the In-Character hour to come. I will also be posting with Sera vers Aldnoah, coming to the bridge and telling people A'vura is dead. Here is the present bridge crew:

Commanding Officer: Wenn Cinn (Ready Room)
Executive Officer: Natalie Stark (Main Bridge)
Tactical: Leon Marquez, Jonas Arisaka (NPC) & Tarsi sh'Zhan (NPC)
CONN: Derik Veradin
Operations: Nameless NPC replacement for A'vura
Science: Vivian Martin & Morwen Angharad (NPC)
Engineering Station: Lavar Manfredi (NPC)
Communications: Faye Eloi-Danvers

Re: Chapter 03: Supplemental [ Day 06 | 0901 hrs. ] Final Pieces

Reply #1
[Zyrao Natauna | Strategist Extraordinaire | Changing of the Guards |  Another Fucking Captain |  They Keep Breeding]
@Auctor Lucan @Brutus @chXinya

Zyrao was tired.

Some tea.  A snack.  Something like that sounded amazing right now.  The kind of release that she needed after the chaotic heavy stress of the Bridge was not going to come from a snack.  But, tea would at the very least take the edges off of her day.  Still, she would need to find Sera or someone else to alleviate the worst of it.  Right now she just hoped that the sabine had made it into the hanger without any issues and that Sera was just fine.  Hearing her voice over the coms had at least lessened the concern now without those ringing in her ears she had nothing to go off of. 

Zy  knew that the fiery woman could take care of herself and was likely just fine.  She just would feel better to know.  It wasn't as though she had any truly deep feelings for the woman but they had bonded in a way that, at the very least, made them friends.  Apparently, it was not easy or it was extremely difficult to make friends on a ship like this.  Especially when you seemed to lack the neck bling that others had earned over their years.  So far as she could tell not having it equated to absolute incompetence in life all together.  She hoped to prove it wrong and yet so far, it seemed not possible.

Turbolift doors opened, and Zy's grey eyes slid to the side to size up the interloper.  A dark skinned man took the Bridge and Dewitt got up claiming Captain was on deck.  Zy sighed, running a hand down her face wondering if she was gaining the never before earned wrinkles.  She had always tried to keep herself as stress free as possible and when it arose she found ways to burn it but here among these people she was finding herself growing heavier by the moment.  Rolling her shoulders she watched as Dewitt stepped down and to the side allowing the male to take up the mantle she had clearly only wanted temporarily.

Zy met the woman's gaze and gave a nod and a slight quirk to her lips.  She had done well.  She had relieved a nitwit of his command and hopefully replaced him with someone that was actually trained in the arts of command and how to deal with a deck full of people.  Not to mention an expert that was asked to be there.  Everyone popped to attention or whatever straight backed stances were called for these people.  Though Zyrao didn't, she was far too busy looking over the information on the console in front of her and she didn't know if this one had earned respect as of yet.  Not that she was outright disrespecting him in any way.  And moments later he told everyone to be at ease, Zyrao just.. got there faster.

The man stopped in front of her, and grey sharp eyes shifted to him again.  She straightened her back not a show of respect, as her shoulders followed pushing them back so that she was showing a strong front.  He did not scare nor did he intimidate her.  She was merely standing up for herself as had been proven she needed to do.  Her brow rose in a swift but smooth motion as he questioned who she was and what she was doing here.

“I am Zyrao Natauna, I am a Strategist and voluntary transfer from the Klingon Defense Force.  I assisted this crew on the Moon base.  Trent and Dewitt asked me to assist here because of my extensive military background and the fact that I am El-Aurian as well.” she stated calmly giving him a quick run down of who she was so that he would not be surprised.  She still wore the Starfleet uniform even though it did not contain the pips that she had once toyed with.

He seemed a bit surprised at her answer and then asked if she had been on the Bridge when Dewitt assumed command.  Her eyes shifted over to the woman in question and then she turned them back to the newcomer. 

“I was.” she stated simply.  No need for elaboration at this point.

She was told to attend to them in the room beyond, and she gave a bit of a nod.  Thus far, without being belittled and made a fool of she found herself with no reason to question or fight the man.  She would just follow the others calmly as she stepped into the room and they waited for everyone to join in.  Zyrao wouldn't wait to be asked to sit, she just found a chair that looked the most comfortable and lowered herself in it gratefully.  Crashing into it a bit it scooted back a couple inches and the fabric groaned slightly with the sudden weight of her before she brushed a hand through her dark hair. 

She knew what would be asked here.  The mutiny would be questioned.  Was it necessary how did it go down.  Such as that.  So as soon as the room quieted enough Zyrao didn't wait to be called on.  She wasn't the sort to sugar coat much of anything.  It was a pure waste of time. 

“I'm assuming we're here about the mutiny that took place courtesy of Miss Dewitt.”  Yes yes, she knew that using the horrible moniker of Miss instead of her rank would probably earn her some hard looks but she didn't really care.  If there was one thing she had learned through her years of military was the fact that rank meant shit.  She had met worthless high ranking officers and amazingly effective lower ranked.  Rank was only important to those in the same system, she wasn't, and thus refused to fuck about with it.

“Miss Dewitt relieved Trent of his seat, frankly, because he was inept.  She believed him to be emotionally compromised.  I can neither attest nor deny this fact as I don't know the man other than him being a self righteous asshole, but that's besides the point.  What is on the point is that he was making decisions that further put this ship into danger.  Finding ways to stay when we knew that we could vacate the area and escape the Task Force.  Trent wished to remain behind waiting for the other vectors despite the shields weakening and our power issues.  Engineering was pulling all they could from whatever half assed system they have down there at the moment.  Dewitt felt, I believe, that he was waiting for his girlfriend... or significant other to return from where ever she had gone and thus was making poor choices.”

Her explanation was very matter of fact, there was very little emotion in it except the moment she commented on the level of assholer-y that she had been privy to since she stepped foot on the Bridge. 

“I do believe she was vindicated in her decision however.  He called me to the Bridge to assist and the moment I stepped on the bridge he closed off any and all of my ideas, and my attempts to help.  We managed to use some of them, in the end.  I realize that I am not a native of the Theurgy but I came here to assist and proved my mettle on the coreless moon.  To be called upon and then disregarded and outright disrespected, I believe that he had ulterior motives.” she looked over to Dewitt again and then back to the new Captain.

“Under Dewitt, we were able to save our asses, stay alive, rescue the crew from another ship and find enough power to get us to warp.  She took the reigns despite the fact that most of the Bridge crew was likely pissed off about it.  She made a hard choice and she made an unpopular one but she did it for a reason and because of that choice we are all still alive today.  It isn't easy making those calls, I commend Dewitt for having to do such and support her for it.”

Re: Chapter 03: Supplemental [ Day 06 | 0901 hrs. ] Final Pieces

Reply #2
[ Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark & Ens. Faye Lintah Eloi-Danvers | Bridge | Deck 01 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan @chXinya @BZ and all current Bridge Crew.
[Show/Hide]

Exiting in time step with Wenn Cinn, the brunette Operations Chief shared a short, terse look with her Captain as he issued immediate orders, stating that he was taking over command, and that he was going to debrief Dewitt. It was exactly the same orders she would have made if she had been the one in charge. If Anya Ziegler had her way, one day Nat would be. But that was neither here nor there. Instead, she followed behind the Bajoran as they both seemed to hone in on the one person present on the Theurgy's bridge that Natalie herself did not recognize.

"All our Vectors seem to be in a habit of picking up strays," Natalie said as she let her eyes drift over this Zyro Natauna.  Impulse took over, and Natalie found herself standing with her arms crossed tightly under her breasts. An El-Aurian, working with the Klingon Defense Force. I can only imagine the story there. How will she react to the news of the Sword's encounter with the Rotarran, I wonder.

Across the bridge, Ens. Eloi-Danvers was standing up from her communications console, perhaps a beat before Captain Wenn issued the order for her to accompany him, as well as Lt. Cmdr. Dewitt and Miss Nataura into the Ready Room. She'd picked up on the intention from the Bajoran seconds before he'd actually directed his speech toward her. To those not used to working with Betazoids, that could be quite disconcerting. She could only hope that Captain Wenn was used to it, or at the very least, didn't hold it against her.

As it was, she was doing her best to keep from collapsing back under the sense of relief that was coming off of everyone present. The Theurgy was whole again, albeit battered and on a mad warp dash. But it was safe. She just needed to set aside her burning desire to run to sickbay and focus on more important matters - such as the gnawing pit of nerves that related to just why a lowly Ensign was being asked to join in on a debrief with their 'new' captain.

Stark watched as Wenn lead  the trio into his ready room. The doors slid shut, and Natalie turned her attention to the bridge crew, letting eyes scour the assembled personnel as they all went about their duties, taking them all in. Most of these were face's she was not sure she would ever see again. She picked up shock, relief, anger, stress.

Exhaustion.

These people had been fighting for their lives - they all had - but she had been granted a day or two more rest than the others, to collect herself and refocus, first in repairing the Cayuga after dealing wit the Asuirians, and then, on the short trip over after integrating the Sword and the Stallion. I need to check the duty rosters, she told herself as she settled into the center seat. Not just the seat of a vector, but the command chair of the fully integrated USS Theurgy. This was not the first time in the past few weeks that Natalie had sat here. But it was the first time she had sat down as the ships acting Executive Officer.  The first since she'd commanded a vector that might as well have been its own, formidable starship for days on end. The first time after having been a Captain in her own right.

God help me but it feels good.

The first order of business them. She pulled up the most recent report from Engineering, a - very short - review of their current flight status. As the veteran Operations officer had suspected, they were locked in. There was nothing anyone could do until this warp jump died off. So.

"Attention on deck," she said in a firm voice. There was a core of iron that demanded that attention. One that hadn't been there before she'd last set foot on this bridge. She let her blue eyes meet with everyone as she stood back up out of the chair, turning in a slow circle. Yes, this felt right.

"I'm not one for speeches, and frankly it's not my place to give one at the moment," she began, one hand on the back of the center chair as she stood to the side of it. She allowed a small smile to grace her lips. "You don't want to listen to me ramble, in any case. What I need, are three. hings, from each and one of you."

Natalie could tell that while she'd had everyone's attention, she saw that now she had their interest as well. The smile stayed in place, perhaps tugging a little bit at the corner of her mouth. "First, and most important," she began, "I will need after action reports from each and every one of you, delivered to me by 1100 hours." That seemed reasonable enough to her. She didn't want them to forget anything important that happened.

"Second, I want you all to call up your relief officers for the remainder of your shift," confusion for a moment, "Which leads into the third thing I need from all of you." Her eyes wept over the crowded bridge once more. "I need you all to get off my bridge and get some rest." The smile grew a bit more, as she saw understanding sweep through them. "You've done well, all of you. But right now, there is nothing that any of you can do better than a rested relief officer could do. We're locked in the duration, and all of your have given your best already today. You've earned some rest. Go. Get off my bridge. Get something to eat. Get me that report, and then take a nap."

Even as she gave the order, she could see the other officers turning to call in the relief watch. Pleased, Natalie walked over to the bridge replicator and pressed a button. "Coffee, hot. Cream, three sugars." The beverage materialized and she scooped the cup up off the pad, and brought it to her lips, taking a sniff, and then a sip. Contented, she moved back and settled into the center seat, watching the nebula warp by on the view-screen.

[Ens. Faye Lintah Eloi-Danvers | Captains Ready Room | Deck 01 | USS Theurgy]

The doors slid shut behind Faye and she immediate took a step to the side, renaming at attention. She watched as Captain Wenn moved across the cramped room, but before he'd even taken a seat behind Ives, desk, or given a 'as you were', the El-Aurian had plopped herself down into one of the lounge chairs. Faye's eyebrows rose high on her forehead. She has zero respect for propriety she thought, as, sure enough, the woman launched into the events of what had just happened without being given leave.

Dewitt and herself, Faye noted, remained standing. It was a petty thing to focus on, but after everything that had been happening, Faye found that easier to deal with than, say, the fact that they had all nearly been annihilated.

And so, Faye listened. The longer Zayro talked, the more Faye began to frown. It was interesting, to see the events through the self proclaimed strategist eyes. As a diplomat, it was useful intelligence. Understanding how others viewed an occurrence could be then used to reach an amicable outcome for all parties. Or, at the very least, find the most accurate version of Truth. The issue here was that Ms. Nataura, for all her vaunted prowess and the nigh on legendary status afforded the few remaining El-Aurians in the galaxy, did not possess the whole picture.

Neither, for that matter, did Lt. Commander Jennifer Dewitt. Each woman knew their own thoughts and motivations, and that colored their perceptions of what had happened. The problem was that there was another man that should be in this discussion. But Carrigan Trent had been coffined to quarters by Miss Dewitt. And while there was a lot of merit to what the El-Aurian was saying, and perhaps Dewitt's actions were indeed correct, both women were, in Faye's opinion, doing Trent a disservice. They weren't wrong, but they weren't right, either. Not entirely.

But as much as Faye wanted to cut in, she couldn't. In that moment, in that space, she was very much aware of her rank. And while she couldn't read the El-Aurian's mind (a blessing in some cases, but not right then) she could easily tell that Zayro held rank in no regard. But, as an Ensign in a room full of command level officers and a civilian, she wasn't afforded that luxury. Oh, she could probably speak up and claim she was acting in her role as a diplomat. But with one person already breaching procedure in the room, and the albatross that was a mutiny hanging around their collective necks....Faye had to school her self not to say anything.

She could feel the Bajoran Captain's gaze fall to her, and realized that her thoughts must have been showing. A look of consternation passed over her face, before it became impressively, professionally blank. When she put her mind to it, the young diplomat had a hell of a poker face.

Re: Chapter 03: Supplemental [ Day 06 | 0901 hrs. ] Final Pieces

Reply #3
[ Lieutenant Commander Jennifer Dewitt | Main Bridge | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @chXinya @BZ @Brutus
[Show/Hide]
When Captain Wenn took command, he immediately assessed the weary bridge crew and spotted the present civilian. Jennifer couldn't help but feel a little bit nervous about being correct in the assumption that Wenn Cinn would like to have the debriefing immediately, and even though it seemed the El-Aurian had smiled to her a little bit earlier, she had no way of knowing if anyone save herself could find merit in her actions. Of course, she knew she'd acted correctly in accordance with what she'd known and how she had assessed the development, and she could speak for her cause, but the decision about her conduct wasn't hers to make. It seemed Zyrao and Eloi-Danvers were the ones that might corroborate her words. It did not escape her that the tall, wide-shouldered Bajoran with the dark skin had served as the Chief of Security either, and was an old hand at interrogations.

She did not make eye-contact with the bridge crew left behind, even if she could feel their eyes on her. She was calm, held her head high, and followed Wenn Cinn into the Captain's Ready Room. His Ready Room now, after Ives and Trent.

Only the hearing didn't quite pan out the way Dewitt had imagined it. Instead of Wenn Cinn starting to ask her questions, and her telling her side of the story, Zyrao Natauna wasted no time in lauding her actions and giving her own - very frank - take on what had happened. Dewitt firmly closed her mouth, what she'd meant to say irrelevant until the El-Aurian finished, yet once she did, and Eloi-Danvers held her tongue in wait for Cinn to give her questions, Jennifer glanced towards the Bajoran before she cleared her throat.

"I would hardly call Trent inept," she said, and slowly seated herself in one of he chairs facing the Commanding Officer's desk, not about to lounge in the sitting area like Zyrao was doing. Even if she'd been a civilian, she would not have the gall to do it when it was her actions that were under scrutiny. "Yet neither was it Trent who requested that Miss Zyrao Natauna came to the bridge. I summoned her there, which might explain why Trent himself did not utilise Zy's competence. Given the situation, where our presence in the Rendevzous Zone was compromised and we had to hide from Admiral Sankolov, I found it prudent to use every advantage we had available. With Natauna's extensive and Non-Federation experience and intuition, not to mention her role as a strategist for the KDF and her rank in the bygone El-Aurian military, I hoped her wisdom might complement our own skill-sets on the bridge. She proved her worth, her instincts on point, and she readily took over my role in Mission-Ops when I took the centre seat, coordinating the warp fighters that defected to our side, along with the Sabine."

Jennifer felt that mentioning how the El-Aurian had paraded in wearing rank pips on her uniform would have to be discussed separately, since it was too far from the current topic at hand. Besides, it was not the El-Aurian's actions that were being examined, but her own.

"Three days ago, following the battle against the Savi - where the Continuance Protocol was executed - I was called into this room by Trent. He seemed... emotional, but I first thought it was because of the fallout of that encounter. He said... that what he was about to say could never leave this room, followed by 'I have no idea if I'm doing the right thing.' This, on it's own, was alarming enough, but I was in no position to protest, and explain that my loyalty is -and remains - to the crew and the mission, and not to him personally. If given the choice to betray his confidence for the sake of our survival, I would do it again. It's the kind of betrayal I can live with."

Having said this up front, she continued with her short story. "Despite the diminished state of Vector 01 following the battle with the Savi, with morale low and without knowing if we'd be able to reintegrate with the other two Vectors, he ordered me to inform the crew that we'd prepare to go after the abductees on the Versant, engaging that dreadnought once more, in direct conflict with the Continuance Protocol and Ives' last order. Again, this was on the same day as the battle. I urged him to reconsider this order, for we had yet to reintegrate, the Stallion and the Sword likely still not clear from the Savi fighter patrols yet. As his First Officer, I advised him against giving that order then, before we had managed to rendezvous with the others. We didn't even know the full extent of the damage done by the Savi and the Asurian saucers in the battle, especially not on the other Vectors. If Trent were to dismiss the Protocol and Ives' order, without the support from the other Vectors, not even knowing the full tactical situation for such an undertaking, it would have been like asking a soldier to invade an enemy camp alone, without even knowing if he will be armed. He wanted me to tell a crew with fragile morale to attempt a suicide mission. If he'd made me tell them this that day... the crew of the Helmet might have rebelled, and the mission would have failed. He said he'd not be able to look himself in the mirror if he didn't try to take back the abducted crew, but I reminded him that the import of our mission is of a higher priority than his conscience. Fortunately enough, I made him reconsider the immediate order, but assured me that he would still make the attempt to go up against the Versant."

Dewitt shifted a little in her seat before she moved on "Then, because of his narrowed reasoning, I asked the obvious. I asked if the fact that Warrant Officer Heather McMillan - a woman very close to him - being one of the abductees was factoring into this decision. He... hesitated, looking more conflicted than I've ever seen him, and he simply said 'yes'."

With that said, the implications clear in the intermediate silence, the precursor to her actions on the bridge was hopefully explained. So, she moved on to the present. "Today, even though we had the chance to both leave the Rendezvous zone and still leave an encrypted message for the other Vectors, Trent opted to remain, subjecting the crew and the mission to unnecessary danger. Neither the Sword nor the Stallion had appeared, and given the fact of the Savi, the Asurians and Task Force Archeron all being in the Azure Nebula, the odds of your survival seemed quite slim. This would have meant - as far as we knew - that that the Helmet alone carried the truth about Starfleet Command and the threat of the Infested. The minutes of the Rendezvous wore on - the tactics of avoiding Sankolov's ships wearing thin - without your appearance, which further suggested that the Sword and the Stallion were indeed gone. Finally, we got an opening, when there were just twenty minutes left, to leave the Rendezvous area behind along with the aforementioned encrypted message about a new destination at which we could meet up. The very same destination we are now locked upon."

She decided that the next part could be described in no uncertain terms, as damning as they might be for the man she had deposed. "At that point, I even told Trent that a Starfleet officer's first obligation is towards the truth. A truth that might be lost any further we remained, with ships bearing down on us, and with no energy reserves left for an open engagement. Yet he still ordered the Helmet to remain, hoping for your arrival. It was at this point I made my decision, and in accordance to my duty as First Officer, I used Security aboard to implement regulation 619, relieving Commander Trent from command of Vector 01. Trent is not...inept, as Miss Natauna described him. He was - is - just emotionally compromised. He should have relieved himself from command, and my regrets are that I had to do it for him, and that I had no option but to do it while we were in still in the Rendezvous zone."

Dewitt ran a hand through her hair, feeling how tired she was at that point, when speaking about the outcome."We stayed, and Trent seemed to be falling apart in his reasoning. At one point, he opted against returning fire against pursuing fighters from the Dauntless, even if our hull was unshielded, and yet at the next turn, he ordered a mission-kill on the Bellerophon, using our weapon systems at a point when Engineering told us we no longer could - ignoring the people around him. Before I could relieve him, you saw the result. The Intrepid-class ship ended up destroyed. We were beaming aboard survivors when you appeared, since this new warp solution needed more time before it could be executed. Good advise from Ryuan Sel and Vivan Martin, since we were unable to leave just yet. I am glad we couldn't, now, since I have never been more happy about being wrong concerning the Sword and the Stallion. You had made it after all."

Having presented her report, Dewitt felt deflated even if she still sat straight in her chair, regretful about the turn-out in Trent's behalf, but she remained certain she had done the right thing, based on what she'd known and experienced. "You know the rest. I ceded Command to you immediately, since you are the Second Officer of the Theurgy, and I have no interest in being the Commanding Officer in Trent's stead." The next words, while hard on her, she said without regrets. "If you - despite my recommendation against it - still decide to give back command to Trent, and you need a scapegoat to preserve the chain-of-command in this dire hour, I will understand, and I will play along, admitting to any fault you find in my actions."

She chuckled then, the rare humour of the situation getting to her. "It's not like I have a career to worry about anyway, serving on a renegade ship, right?" She sighed, gesturing to the sitting area. "Zyrao Natauna ascribe credit to me for the Helmet not being destroyed, but it was the crew who should get the credit anyway, keeping their heads on their shoulders and accepting my orders despite my untimely actions."

Jennifer had no idea what the Betazoid would make out of all this, but she felt she'd been completely truthful, at least.

[ Sera vers Aldnoah | Upper Shuttle Bay | Deck 11 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Brutus
[Show/Hide]
At that point, on the Main Bridge, Sera vers Aldnoah appeared together with a Security guard. The man had obliged her request to give a report to the bridge about the loss of A'vura Zephryr - the Orion woman who had sought to steal the Sabine - and when she stepped into the area, she could see how most officers were being replaced. A change-of-the-guards, she assumed, the weariness plain in some of the present faces. Either one of them could have been the one that ordered the Sabine to be seized and used in their tactics, but Sera decided against going on a fiery tantrum out of respect for the one who'd died.

"Ma'am," said the Ensign that had escorted her there, "this woman has urged to leave a report. It's about your Asst. Chief of Operations. She was aboard the SS Sabine during the battle. I assumed you'd like to hear it."

Sera turned her yellow eyes to the dark-haired woman with the big bosom in the centre chair of the bridge. She didn't care how the Starfleeters might salute or conduct themselves. She was not a part of this crew, which had been made clear when they sought to confiscate the Sabine, which was now damaged. Again.

"A flaming Valravn-fighter caught my ship in it's cross-hairs. Got through my shields, breached my hull. The Orion was out of her seat, going to get her helmet when it happened. She was spaced before my structural integrity field sealed the breach. Nothing I could do," she said simply, before reporting the positive stuff. Well, not positive for her, personally, but she figured the Starfleeters would be pleased enough about it.

"I did play decoy through the Task Force though, that emitter making them think I was the Theurgy. Stirred them up real good. Ended up chatting with some fighter pilots from the Dauntless in the process. Long story short, you now have six new warp fighters and some really loyal pilots in your shuttle bay. You might want to give them a warm welcome, I'd say, since they just betrayed the rest of their squadron for your sake. Personally, I just want my bloody ship repaired, and your promise that you never - ever - try to steal it from me again when you need it for some bullshit tactical idea. It's my ship, not yours to haul ashes with in whatever the blasted way you want to. Next time, you can just ask. Kindly so."

Sera took a deep breath, realising that she had strayed from topic, but tried to end it on a nicer note. She cleared her throat. "Still... my condolences. She wasn't just... green. She had a good head on her shoulders. Lovely girl."

Burn me, what's there to say? Sera hardly knew her.


OOC: @Argyros @Triton @The Ostrich , you can post now, having your characters finally leave the bridge. Up to you guys if your characters hear Sera's report about their old Chief of Operations on the Resolve - A'vura - or not, before they leave the bridge. They will likely hear about her death anyway, but there is a chance in this thread for it.

In the Ready Room, @chXinya is next, followed by @BZ . As for @Brutus , you can decide if you post separately with Stark in answer to A'vura, or wait until it's your turn with Eloi-Danvers. :)

Re: Chapter 03: Supplemental [ Day 06 | 0901 hrs. ] Final Pieces

Reply #4
[ Lt. Cmdr Leon Marquez & Lt. JG Alessia "Angel" Garcia | Main Bridge -- > Battle Bridge -- > CTO's Quarters | Deck 10 | USS Theurgy ]
@Brutus
[Show/Hide]

If there was one thing that could keep Leon on his feet longer than an energized rabbit, it was Andorian Katheka, either chilled or served in the same style as Hot Cocoa, it was hard not to associate Marquez without a mug of the stuff handy. Anyone who gave him dirty looks about it didn't even dignify a response. Which was one thing he tried not to hold against Zyrao when she was summoned to the Captain's Ready room and he was not. That was probably for the best; he wouldn't mince words if given a debrief. But even the blue energy-drink couldn't fight off the best orders. "Lieutenant T'Less to Main Bridge, please." he pinged Theurgy's Deputy CTO, never having met her, though knowing of her from the ship's manifest.

Then came the bombshell. A'vura.

Leon pretended not to react as he blinked off the sensation of insects crawling along his eyeballs, as if for emphasis on the toll of their escape. It seemed like only yesterday they were on another ship in another time, ready to return home, exchanging a list of post-return goals after their Golden Gate Bridge honor parade. Leon checked the casualty list further, and stared another friend's loss in the face. On duty or not, Marquez had to pay his respects by visiting where Keval ch'Rayya met his end.

It was probably the Andorian would have wanted, instead of having Leon see his Andorian remains in the morgue. It was fair, Leon wouldn't want his own corpse on display, if given the chance. Having access to his combat logs from throughout the ship, Leon made the time to prepare a traditional ceremony for the unconventional but loyal Andorian whom Leon trusted with his life on a regular basis. If only Leon would have thanked Keval for the trust they had, before one of them died. Arriving at the secondary bridge, Leon found the excuse to ensure their tactical console was operational on all Vectors, citing the damage to the holotable on the main bridge. Marquez was at the Sword's tactical station when he got a call from Klex who had reported a possible solution to the Helmet's overheated phasers.

It took Leon a moment to respond as he half-expected Keval to have responded to their Denobulan colleague. It was grief that got to him, not fatigue. On that note, he got a second padd to synch for T'Less when she returned here. He would compare notes and file his tactical reports to the Captain in 2 or so hours upon getting some sleep. He didn't even realize he'd completed the arrangements for the loss of Keval and any other fallen Andorian in ritualistic ceremonial detail by the time he had arrived on his quarters on Deck 10.

Lucky for him, the Mexican's personal equipment was still in a transporter file from one of the datarods that Jimmy Mariner had rescued from the Resolve, meaning that he could restore his room's aesthetic with a simple use of his replicator. Fortunately, the one in his new quarters was functioning properly, and Leon had ship models, books , photographs and assorted ship models. Thoughtfully, there was a new one of his current posting which included its MVAM components; Leon smiled thoughtfully out of inspiration of the craft itself instead of dwelling on the Luna-Class next to it.

It seemed like an eternity since he'd been in here, and fortunately, it hadn't been damaged, bad as his own temporary facilities on Vector 1 were. though he could have made well with a chair and one eye open if it came to it. But his own quarters with the familiar photographs, ship models, keepsakes and personal belongings would do. It was as close to home as he could have hoped for.


There was one or two things missing, but Leon didn't get them until he'd made headway glancing through his reports and input the CTO's Log.

[Show/Hide]

Leon replicated out his signature soccer ball and conducted a few dribbles with it as if the ball were a hackey-sack toy. There was nothing particular or remarkable of this soccer ball; His father was a team captain of a professional league on Earth and a champion before trading that career for a humble noncommissioned officer in Starfleet Security to stay with Leon's mother, rather than let duty part the two lovers. Growing up on their ship, Leon had always wanted to follow the example of his parents: Life for the Uniform, but as a man, when love calls, destiny answers. Leon debated on replicating one more item from his past. A photograph. It could wait for now, or so he thought as he continued his log and typed in communications from his quarters' office.

[Show/Hide]

Leon took the sudden surge to take a nap as an answer to his entry, to resume it with some refreshing rack time. Marquez put on his leather jacket and zipped it up to ease onto his sofa, rather than wrinkle the bed he'd made just a week ago for just the faintest of naps.

The man himself was spiritual if not particularly religious, but his words aloud seemed to convey a plea to his maker. Leon stood but continued recording, and approved of the datarod's final item. Leon liked to save the best for last when on many things, but the prospect of not seeing her in the flesh again was a pressure point that made him understand the former First Officer. And made him feel glad that Marquez had spoken in Trent's defense in front of the CO. She would have approved, Leon regarded the photograph. Unlike any other crew lineups where she appeared, this was them in her homeland having the time of her life with him during an unforgettable day celebrating victory over The Dominion. The memory eased into a dream of a certain Latina and the thought of her in a wedding dress before he was awaken some time later by someone on his door. Still somewhat in a hopeful state of mind, he summoned the log and concluded it:

I do believe in miracles. I want that on record. ... End log.

It was as good a place as any for someone to chime at Leon's door at that moment. Leon ended his log, still having the framed photograph in his hand. Perhaps it wouldn't be anything important enough for his photograph of Alessia to be noticed if Leon hid it under his now-donned leather jacket, having traded his sleeved uniform for the vest variant as an excuse to let his developed forearm muscles relax against the cooler interior of his leather jacket.

In the span of the moment that ensued, it was a curious thing to come face-to-face with. A moment he spent hours rehearsing for but when it came, he was barely able to contain his reaction coming face to face with a pair of familiar expressive chocolatey-brown eyes that were conveying if not hiding a certain passion that was barely contained on a familiar, beautiful caramel-skinned beauty.

For eternity's longest moment, neither of them said a word.

"Hola." Angel said after a long moment of examining his startled expression and held an inquisitive inspection of his features, specifically looking for a smile or an apology. None of that mattered now.

"Hola" He greeted back, as if he'd forgotten how to speak his native tongue for a minute. "I've thought of a million different things to say for this moment." He said with something of a dry crackle in his throat. "And I can't remember a single one." he admitted. Deck 10 was relatively lonely, but other Department Chairs were soon to come off duty shortly. He stepped aside, inviting her in.

Without looking, Angel closed the door behind them and locked it. "Just go with it." Her full lips widened into an endearing smile as she wrapped her arms around him. Just to hug him was enough for her. Leon responded in kind, taking the shorter but impressively-strong woman he had almost married many long years ago into his arms. "I missed you. So much." Angel confided as a tear of joy trickled down her eye, refusing to let him go for two minutes without a word from either of them until their hands met and Leon led her into his quarters.

[Show/Hide]
Lt. Commander Leon "Striker" Marquez
Chief Tactical Officer, USS Theurgy
"No one left behind."

Ensign James "Jimmy" Mariner
Security Officer, USS Theurgy
"Showtime!"

Lieutenant (J.G.) Alessia "Angel" Garcia
Valravn Fighter Pilot, USS Theurgy
"You're not the only one with a gun,"

Re: Chapter 03: Supplemental [ Day 06 | 0901 hrs. ] Final Pieces

Reply #5
[ Lt T'Less | Main Bridge | Deck 01 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy | Lasting Damage ]

As soon as the Ranger docked with the Helmet, she had wasted no time in getting up to the main bridge. Whatever ludicrous warp factor the engineers had managed to coax out of their tortured engines meant that the Task Force would not catch up with them on the wing, but that didn't mean they had time to relax. T'Less tapped away on a PADD as she rode the turbolift, accessing the reports from the Helmet regarding the current composition of TFA and reading the after-action reports as they came in.

She grimaced in the privacy of the lift. It wasn't good reading.

The doors hissed aside to deposit her in the bridge access corridor. Immediately she was passed by staff going the the other way as personnel redistributed around the  ship, back to their usual postings now that the ship was once again whole. She passed through the security checkpoint at headed straight for the Tactical stations; her own old home here.

"Vector Two's AAR's, sir," she said, offering the PADD to Commander Marquez. "Among others, Lieutenant ch'Rayya was killed-in-action." The Vulcan glanced away for an instant, then back. "I am sorry."

Before she could be drawn into her own self-recriminations about the following events and her own distraction at the death of the Andorian DCTO, she sat down next to Lieutenant JG Martin and logged into the console.

T'Less had a lot of things to go over regarding the ship's readiness for the upcoming, inevitable, battle back at the apertures. By now the KDF would have reinforcements in the area, no doubt, and their presence downgraded their survival chances from Not Good, to Abysmal. In a three-way tug of war between Task Force Archeron, the Klingon fleet, and the Borg invasion, it was exceedingly unlikely that the Theurgy would survive. But, oh, what an account she would give of herself in the meantime.

"Lieutenant T'Less to Main Bridge, please."

She spun in her chair to look at Marquez, one eyebrow unconsciously twitching upwards. He looked tired. Drawn. And the Helmet had suffered worse depredations than even the Sword... it seemed quite reasonable to her that Commander Stark would relieve the present crew to take what scant rest they could. Marquez' slip was likely just that; hardly unforgivable. He'd had an emotional few days.

She put her head back together with Martin to work.
Nator 159: "I accept no responsibility for the ensign's manifest stupidity. Sir." [Show/Hide]
Ranaan Ducote: "A ship is a home; its crew a family." [Show/Hide]
T'Less: "Your odds of prevailing against us are... slim." [Show/Hide]
Valkra: "Come! We will shake the gates of Sto'Vo'Kor!" [Show/Hide]

Re: Chapter 03: Supplemental [ Day 06 | 0901 hrs. ] Final Pieces

Reply #6
[ Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark  | Bridge | Deck 01 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan  
[Show/Hide]

The shift change had barely begun to get  underway when a new civilian face appeared on the bridge, escorted by one of the bridge entrance security officers. Natalie glanced up as the two approached her, and the senior operations officer turned her chair slightly. Before she could even ask as to what was going on, the Ensign relayed the news that the Civilian - the pilot of that prototype shuttle, Sabine, she recalled - had news about A'vura.

Natalie's face hardened when the man said those words. She knew this would not be good news - she hardly needed to be a Betazoid, like the Diplomat in the Ready Room  - to determine that. Oh, no, she thought, bracing herself.

Sure enough, Natalie was not to be disappointed. Her fears were correct. The poor girl, Nat thought. She glanced, ever so slightly, in the direction of Leon Marquez, who was leaving the bridge. Sympathy flittered in her features before she schooled them and narrowed her eyes back at Sera, the shuttle pilot and harbinger of bad news. Just like that, sucked out of a hull breech into the cold, unforgiving embrace of space. All before I even got here. Nothing you could do, Natalie told herself, echoing the other woman's words, though with less colorful metaphors.

In truth, Natalie had hardly had a chance to get to know the Orion who was her replacement. She herself, having been promoted to Chief of Operations, had needed a new Assistant. And roughly 5...6 days ago? She founds she couldn't remember. Six days, she decided, six days ago, in an effort to tie the crew tighter together, she'd selected the young officer from the Resolve to take the role of Assistant Chief of Operations. On the advice of Carrigan Trent, who had been mentoring Nat on the way to be a proper commander.

And now the girl you barely knew is dead, lost in space, and Carrigan Trent is confined to quarters, having been relieved of command. What the fuck happened here? She had tuned out most of what Sera had said next, her gaze growing slightly distant. Not vacant - it was clear that there was still intelligence behind her eyes, but the focus was a bit further away, Or more accurately, turned inside.

But her eyes narrowed again, ever so slightly, as the girl made a crack about commandeering her ship. There was a slow intake of breath, and she let the pilot get it all out, as Natalie collected her thoughts and resisted the sudden impulse to have the pilot thrown in the brig. She wasn't sure she had a good reason, other than the way the girl told her off had struck a nerve. There was no time for that.

"Ms. vers Aldnoah, was it?" Natalie began with a question. "I arrived here about 10 minutes ago, aboard the Ranger. For the past few days I've been dealing with rescue and repair efforts for a fellow Federation Starship that ran afoul of the Borg, and a small flotilla of our Asuiran friends. I still can't quite the stench of shed blood out of my nose, and now you tell me that my Operations Assistant Chief was killed in action. And that I owe you a promise never to try and commandeer your ship.

"The former, all I can say is thank you, I suppose, for letting me know. Her family - if she has a family, I'll admit, I haven't known her terribly long myself, I was just getting a feel for her when we had to split up - deserves to know her fate. And even if it takes the next 20 years to rid ourselves of this damned snake problem we seem to have, I will make sure they're told."

What else can I say? I barely knew her, she thought, with a resigned sort of grief. "As to your ship. I haven't the foggiest idea what happened exactly or why things went the way it did. I'm a little short on sympathy at the moment however, but I do want to express our thanks and gratitude for the part you reported having played in all of this." She held up a padd. "This has a list of all the various and sundry systems that need repaired to the Theurgy." Natalie made a show of typing in a few commands, considering for a moment, flicking the page up a bit, and entering another command.

"Repairs to your vessel are now also on that list. I've flagged it under our friends in shuttle operations, since its more properly one of those, than a fighter. And, as you have pointed out, the Tac Conn group now has more fighters and pilots to debrief and integrate, and our shuttle team - well it seems we have something of a newfound dearth of shuttlecraft, so I suppose they'll have time on their hands." Seriously, just what the fuck happened here?

"Assuming we live through the next, oh, 48 hours, I'll endeavor to make sure that Captain Wenn knows to come to you before he orders any of us to do anything to your ship. That, at the moment, is the best that I can do to address your concerns." That sounded fairly professional. I haven't torn a head off. No nails spit. And no tears shed over A'vura. The poor, poor girl. Nat had to repress a shudder at the thought o the woman's death, being sucked out a hull breech, bones crunched, pulled though a hole, and then...nothing but cold and silence.

Too many dead. Already, again, too many dead. God, I'm going to have to find another Assistant. Nator, for now, she decided quietly, as she passed the woman the padd in her hand. "You may take that to the shuttlebay. My authorization for repairs."

Re: CH03: S [D06|0901] Final Pieces

Reply #7
[Lt. Commander Wenn Cinn | Ready Room | Deck 01 | USS Theurgy] attn: @Brutus @Auctor Lucan @BZ @CanadianVet

Zyrao may have gone straight for the most comfortable chair and claimed it as her own, but Cinn instinctively paused on the front side of the desk.  It took him the briefest of moments to remember that he was supposed to be sitting on the other side of it now.  Taking long, purposeful stride, Commander Wenn reached the captain’s chair in the Captain’s Ready Room and put his dark hand on it, remaining standing for the moment.  Zyrao didn’t hesitate to speak either, correctly surmising why they were here and launched straight into her account of Dewitt’s alleged mutiny.

It was pretty succinct, if colorful, for what Cinn was thinking as a witness report for a security incident.  He couldn’t help but think of the irony that if Captain Ives were still here he’d still be in charge of figuring out the facts behind this chaos so not being captain was no escape.  The El-Aurian was clearly on Dewitt’s side from the sound of it, the language used was harsh towards Trent and at praising of his XO.  She even declared herself to be on Dewitts side at the end.  Listening intently while standing by his chair, Cinn nodded in thanks when she finished.  “Thank you Miss Natauna.”  Pulling the seat away from the desk Cinn finally deigned to sit in a chair that shouldn’t be his.  Surprisingly, it made no sound as it accepted his weight, and Cinn was pleasantly off-put at how comfortable it actually was.

Motioning for the other two women to sit, Cinn glanced at Ensign Danvers to get a hint of what she thought of their new guest’s version of events.  The young woman was too much of a diplomat already, her face was impassive enough that the Bajoran made a mental note to think twice about attending any poker events that she was involved in.  Leaning back and folding his hands together on the desktop, Cinn now turned to the woman on the hot seat.  “Commander Dewitt?” he stressed her rank, giving Zyrao a quick side glance as well hoping she understood the only hint he’ll give.

As befitting a career officer, Jennifer’s account was detailed, precise, and light on the emotion.  She laid out her case as best as she could, tying together the little threads that she’d picked up from Trent over the past few days to weave a tapestry showing a man emotionally crippled by the Savi abductions.  She made it sound like pulling the trigger on Regulation 619 was a last option event, he’ll have to check the logs about these orders that Trent supposedly made or contemplated.  Nodding to Jennifer in thanks when she was finished, Cinn suppressed his thoughts behind his investigator mask.  “Ensign Danvers, your thoughts?”

Hearing his final guests testimony and thoughts, Cinn retreated into himself for a few moments, cataloguing everything and looking back into the past.  “I remember a similar case to this, way back in 2256.  A Captain and her First Officer couldn’t agree on the proper course of action when confronted with a serious conundrum.  The Captain held to the letter of Starfleet regulation, both as a legal course and as a true believer in the principles behind them.  Her XO argued for a different track, one quite contrary to the regs, but already set in president from history.  They couldn’t come to an agreement, and to this day historians still argue over whether or not Captain Georgiou’s failure to heed Commander Burnham was a cause of the Federation-Klingon War.  What makes me think of it now, from what you all have said, it sounds like Commander Trent has held onto the regulations and principles behind rescuing those who have been captured by hostile actors, and you Commander Dewitt, hold onto the regulations and principles behind the Continuance Protocol.  It appears that I have the unenviable position of figuring out which principle is more important in this case.”

Letting a sigh out, Cinn moved his hands to rest on the chair’s armrests.  “Thank you all.  Miss Natauna, Ensign Eloi-Danvers, check with Commander Stark on the Bridge for any immediate assignments.  Commander Dewitt, take the next hour to refresh yourself.  I’ll make my decision before we finish this jump.  Dismissed.”  Watching the three women leave, Cinn kept his face impassionate, not that he could hide anything from Faye.  Once he was alone, he sagged in the seat, the fatigue already setting in.  The replicator tempted him for a moment, but he couldn’t afford the time right now.  Swiveling the terminal to a better angle for himself, he called up the comm system and quickly found the connection he needed.  “Carrigan, it’s Cinn.  We need to talk.”


GM Note added: Please let @Brutus post next else Eloi-Danvers' account will be completely overlooked in this meeting.

Re: CH03: S [D06|0901] Final Pieces

Reply #8
[ Ens. Faye Lintah Eloi-Danvers | Ready Room| Deck 01 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @BZ @Auctor Lucan @chXinya @CanadianVet 
[Show/Hide]

It was only when Captain Wenn gestured to one of the other seats that Faye eased herself into it. In truth, however, there was nothing about this that felt easy, and she held herself as prim as she could, barely resting her back against the chair. A measured contrast to the civilian, and even to an extent, to Lt. Commander Dewitt. The latter's mind was open to her, and she felt the sheer relief coming from the senior officer, from simply saying her piece and getting her viewpoint out in the open. She sensed, after a fashion, that whatever judgement the Bajoran Security officer turned starship Captain leveled on her, Dewitt would accept.

That eased some of the dislike that Faye was harboring in the moment. Some. She still wasn't sure if she agreed with the woman's actions - everything had happened so fast, it had been hard to get a grasp on it all. She knew that a diplomat needed to be able to form an opinion fast, but at the same time, there was that need to wholly understand a situation. What Faye did understand, was that Dewitt had answered truthfully. She believed in everything she had said, and would abide any judgement given.

Zyrao however....well, El-Aurian's were hard to read. Faye figured if she knew the woman well, she might be able to get a better sense of her thoughts. She didn't know this KDF Specialist at all. But then, you don't need to be a telepath to tell just how little she thinks of Cmdr. Trent, the Betazoid thought. She knew that, on a personal level, she didn't much care for her attitude. Whether that invalidated her opinions or observations was another matter entirely. Faye had been stationed at Khitomer, in a diplomatic courier vessel, with a mission to the Klingon Empire. She was aware as to how they operated. She might find some of their views distasteful, but she'd had plenty of experience working with, and even forging professional, rewarding relationships, with people she didn't like.
It was all part of the job.

But now the job was to give an accounting of the actions of two very senior officers, to a third, who would ultimately have to pass judgement. This was somehow just as daunting, and yet completely different from having to negotiate a key treaty.

Beats being nearly sucked out into space and having all your colleagues killed by an attack from what was supposed to be a friendly starbase, doesn't it, Faye? she thought bitterly.

"Eloi-Danvers, Sir," she began, turning her gaze to face the Bajoran, and doing her best to stay out of the dark mans mind. It was an automatic response, one she'd given a hundred times to a hundred officers over the years. Just a hint of a smile, then her face hardened again, focusing on the subject at hand. There was nothing lighthearted about what they were discussing. "With respect to everyone present, its less my thoughts that matter here, and more everyone else's.

"That's usually why people ask for a Betazoid's opinion," a hint of a smile passed over her face again. The diplomat was in full swing. "For what it is worth, Captain," he was Captain now, she noted, as she continued on, "Lt. Commander Dewitt is telling the truth, as far as she is aware." At this point, she did not look at the woman next to her, but focused on Wenn Cinn. No one liked being reminded that the person next to them was looking inside their head. "She absolutely believes that she did the right thing.

"Whats at issue here is Captain Trent's motivations," Eloi-Danvers continued, carefully, and calm. "And while Commander Dewitt was correct in her assessment that Trent was motivated by his desire to retrieve Heather McMillian' Gods, Heather...she was so sweet, "He felt that the Commander was twisting what he'd told her in confidence for her own means, casting them in a false light and misrepresenting his motivations." At this she did shoot the woman an apologetic look.

"Both Ms. Natauna and Cmdr. Dewitt seemed to feel that Cmdr. Trent was acting erratically, letting his emotions get the better of him and impairing his judgement. What I was able to sense was a highly focused, dedicated mind. He had a plan. What he believed to be a solid one, relying on stealth. He resented input from Ms. Natauna when it clashed with his over all goal, and felt there wasn't enough time to sit and spell things out. At the same time, he appreciated her input when it matched up with his overall view of how he wanted to execute the battle.

"Trent, deep down, believed it was his duty to the crew here, to stay as long as he could, to give them every chance. He differed in opinion with Cmdr. Dewitt on how to make that happen. Ms. McMillian was not, as alleged, his sole reason for this...he felt he owed the crew an attempt to recover our friends and crew-mates. That he'd given his word. That if he went back on it...well...the crew would be up in arms and rebel." She shrugged  a bit, well aware of the irony.

"I..." she sighed, "I think, respectfully, that you might want to talk to him to get his full views on the subject, Sir. There's only so much I can relay second hand." She looked apologetic again. "I can't say who was right and who was wrong. I can say that the motivations of both officers were - in their minds - pure."

From there, she eased back a bit more in the chair - she wanted to collapse. Saying all she had was...draining. Very much so. She swallowed down an impulse to rub her hands on her knees. The truth of the matter was, Faye sympathized with Trents desire to save Heather. She remembered the girl, from before. And more so - she had desperately wanted to have the vectors reunited. She had someone she cared about, and needed to reassure herself that they were all right.

So now she sat and listened, feeling more awkward than before. She herself knew she had not exactly done well on the bridge. She'd been overwhelmed at times during the combat, and yet here she was, passing - if not judgement - then at least criticizing the performance of two other officers, as well as a civilian on the bridge at the same time. Faye was glad that no one else in the room was telepathic.

Finally it was over. She rose, and nodded to Wenn. She didn't let her gaze fall on Ms. Natauna. She wanted out of there, fast. Somewhere on the ship was Riley...gods willing, if Lt. Cmdr. Stark didn't have a specific need for her, thats where she'd be heading next....

Re: CH03: S [D06|0901] Final Pieces

Reply #9
[ Lieutenant Commander Jennifer Dewitt | Main Bridge | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @chXinya @BZ @Brutus
[Show/Hide]
Jennifer remained seated, impassive, while both Eloi-Danvers and Wenn Cinn spoke. There was little surprise in how the Betazoid had sensed that Trent thought himself rational in his reasoning. Even less that he had seemed calm and collected. The problem had been that his motivations and his priorities were wrong, and that he was subconsciously rationalising his own folly. Of course he'd think she twisted the words he confided to her against him for her own benefit. As it were, she sought no benefit for herself, but merely the survival of the crew and the preservation of the mission. It was never about her.

Trent's and her conduct would be a matter much like Commander Wenn described, however, and while Dewitt wished to emphasize how Vector 1 could have left to begin with - thus preserving the Helmet from the damages it had sustained and saved hundreds of lives on their own ship and the Bellerophon combined, and rendezvoused with the other Vectors on the fourth planet of the Ithacae System instead - she had already said this to Wenn Cinn in her account of the events. She would accept whatever judgement would be passed, and she sympathized with the difficulty that the current CO of the Theurgy illustrated.

She did not envy the one who would settle the age-old conundrum of Burnham's actions. Perhaps there was no correct answer, despite all the protocols and regulations they lived under. Even when serving on a renegade ship, ironically enough.

When dismissed, Dewitt rose, and she gave the Betazoid a smile, not in the least offended or angry with her. Why would she be? She done what she'd done, and she'd accept the consequences. She inclined her head to Wenn Cinn as well. "I understand the challenge you face, Captain. Just as I will accept the consequences of my actions, I will also accept any assignment you need me for. I will ask someone to brief me about the status of the other Vectors, and then I will await your judgement. I will be in my quarters."

Having said this, she turned on her heel and moved towards the door. She made eye-contact with Zyrao Natauna when they left together, and she inclined her head to the El-Aurian. While Zy, with her long experience, found merit in her actions, it was ultimately irrelevant, since judgement would be passed by humanoids of lesser years. A notion struck Dewitt, in how frustrated the woman might be, and how the strategist might think her weak for not standing up for herself more than she had. Her reasons were simple, in how no crew thrived when there was turmoil in the chain-of-command, and she was trying to mitigate the damages she'd caused. If that made her seem weak, so be it.

Arrogance had no place in the Command chair if you served in Starfleet.

When she emerged from the Ready Room, she expected to meet the condemning eyes of the bridge crew, but it appeared that Natalie Stark had relieved them all. Prudent, thought Dewitt, merely hoping that her actions wouldn't result in consequences for them too. She saw Sera vers Aldnoah standing by the current First Officer, together with a security guard. Behind her, before the doors closed, she heard Cinn contacting Trent. She inclined her head to Stark, and walked out of the bridge, perhaps for the last time.

She was thankful that it wasn't under armed custody, at least. Perhaps that, if anything, was a testament that Cinn might give her a new assignment.

[ Sera vers Aldnoah | Upper Shuttle Bay | Deck 11 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Brutus
[Show/Hide]
Sera had cocked a hip, setting a tattooed hand against it while listening to Commander Big-Tits. So she was having a bad day? Burn her, had she just flown straight through an enemy fleet with just the element of surprise as armour? She wanted to make a snide comment, but she took a breath instead, waiting for her compensation. Surely those new loyal fighter pilots were worth something?

What did she get? A sorry and a thank you, and at some point, possibly repairs to her ship? Where was the blasted latinum? She had meant to press Trent for compensation after carrying that away-team back and forth to the Coreless Moon, but after Zy told her what that guy was like, she had decided to bite her tongue and hope for a new opportunity. She was just about to tell Stark as much... when she appeared.

Zyrao, emerging from another door together with two other women, one of them being the cunt that had told A'vura to confiscate the Sabine. It was either her, Dewitt, or more likely Trent. Blast them both. Seeing Zy, and able to see that she'd had a rough time as well, an idea came to Sera, watching the ravishing El-Aurian approach her. And with that idea, she had no more time to waste on Big-Tits. Seemed a dead end anyway.

"Well 'thank you, I guess I'll write up a detailed message about the scorching storms you people put me through, just so that this isn't forgotten. One of those 'reports', as you call it, and I'll save a copy. See, repairs aside, unless I get monetary compensation for my flaming troubles on this ship, I will not raise a bloody finger to help in this mission or this crew again. For outside there, in the real galaxy - outside this convoluted, self-absorbed cult of made-up ranks and regulations - a 'thank you' doesn't let you earn a living. Burn me, as soon as you make it to port somewhere - anywhere - I mean to live as a pre-warp queen and blast the memories of this flaming ship away with high-grade alcohol, and you will bloody well fund my decadence."

Having said her piece, she turned to leave, not about to stop regardless what Big-Tits might say in her wake. The security guard trailed after her, of course, tight of both lip and ass. She didn't go far though, stopping in the corridor, and rounding on him. "Can I borrow that datapad? I need to write something down."

"I don't th-"

"I'll kiss you if I can borrow it."

"No, I have a gir..."

"I'll kiss you if you don't give it to me, and tell on you," said Sera, rolling her yellow eyes.

"What? I mean, I... Fine, here," he said, and handed it over to Sera, who beamed and gave him a big innocent smile.

"Thank you!" she said and quickly started typing on it, trying to blink away her headache from the night before. By the time Zyrao Natauna had caught up to them in the corridor, Sera was finished and promptly handed it over to the El-Aurian. "Hey, Zy, check this out? Wouldn't this be a blast?"

The security guard next to Sera opened and closed his mouth a few times while Zy got to read what Sera had written.


OOC: Posting order is free now, I think? This thread will be split between the Cinn/Trent intercom talk and a couple of more posts with Sera and Zy. Brutus, entirely optional if you want to close up with Stark in this thread, but Dewitt has left.

Re: CH03: S [D06|0901] Final Pieces

Reply #10
[ Cmdr Carrigan Trent | Day 06 | Secured VIP quarters | Deck 11 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] @chXinya @Brutus

Trent's eyes opened.  He wasn't quite sure when he had closed them, but they opened.  He was not quite certain as to why either.  Nor did he exactly remember how he wound up on the deck in the middle of the suite he had been secured in.  But the back of his head ached.  Wait, he remembered now.  The ship lurched, and there had been a flutter in the IDF, and then everything went dark.  Did he have a lengthy conversation just now?  No, couldn't be.. 

Again, what had pulled him back to the world of the living let itself be known again.  It was the console on the desk, the one that just had to be locked out using basic security protocols.  Did someone really want to speak to him? 

With effort, he picked himself up off the deck.  Everything hurt.  And he was far more exhausted than he remembered being.  For a moment, he debated not answering the call.  If someone wanted to speak to him, they damn well knew where to find him.  But, then again, it was a call for him, so probably not Dewitt. 

Gingerly, he made for the desk and sat in the chair before opening the link.  And he could not help the look of surprise on his face.  Wenn Cinn.  So either this was an elaborate trick, or the others had arrived.  And you said they were clearly dead, he thought viciously.  And he said they needed to talk.

His thoughts, once sluggish, started moving again with their habitual ease.  What did he know?  What had he been told?  What version of events had he been presented with?  Given that he was reaching out, odds are he'd already been given Dewitt's official story, the one where she lay everything going wrong a his feet for not abandoning the other vectors.  Or at least one of them, that is. 

But there was only one answer he could give.  "Yes, we do."

However, something that never really turned off was Carrigan Trent's sense of threat management.  He couldn't trust that terminal, and he hardly thought the best of the mutineer.  "But not like this.  I'm locked up down here, so either have me freed or have someone escort me up and we will speak face to face.  With at least one Betazoid in the room." 

He had every reason to believe the line was monitored, and if Dewitt was willing to misconstrue his words on the Bridge, then she certainly would not be above some creative editing to rationalize her next move.

Re: CH03: S [D06|0901] Final Pieces

Reply #11
[Zyrao Natauana | Over This Shit | Ready to Fuck Off | Ranks of Over Rated | I'm Older than All Three of You Put Together]
@Auctor Lucan

This was a cluster fuck.

Watching Dewitt throw herself under the bus.  Watching Danvers with her self righteous attitude further running her over a few times, and all the self sacrificing bull shit right here in this office.  Grey eyes surveyed the, apparently First Officer, now that Trent had been detained in his Quarters like a rabid beast.  The man sat there taking in all the glorious bull shit that Starfleet was well known for and she slumped down in her seat.  Why even bother to stand up for the damned woman when she was just going to toss herself into moving traffic the first chance she got.  Hopefully, this guy wasn't a complete dick fissure and he would actually pull up Security footage and see what actually happened.  It was all well and good for the ladies in the room to clap each other on the back, and circle jerk their way to getting Trent back to his seat.  But that didn't change the fact that he was inept and shouldn't have held the damn thing in the first place.

She brushed a hand through her dark hair as they were dismissed and the El-Aurian let her boots drop back to the deck plating with a loud slap of rubber against metal.  She didn't have anything left to say and if one more fucker on this ship reminded her about ranks she was going to punch someone.  Maybe the ship.  She'd break a few bones, hit up some nurse in Sickbay, and then head off and check back in a few months to see how long it took before the Theurgy just self imploded.

It's run by lunatics and children.

Outside the Bridge her eyes shifted over and saw Sera.  A bit of a flare as she recognized the woman, in one piece, the tattooed hand laying on the console she was standing beside.  Sera turned and headed down the corridor.  Zyrao put her hands in her pocket missing the weight of her disruptor.  She wanted it back, it was hers, she understood being a civilian but she did not appreciate being unarmed.  She had been a solider for a long damn time and understood they didn't trust her but she had given them no reason not to. 

In the corridor she noticed Sera walking away and was hoping that she would be able to get to her and make sure she was all right.  Sera stopped and was talking to one of the Security officers and began to get the PADD from the Security officer just as Zy got around the corner and to them.  Sera turned and held the PADD out to Zyrao who's strong hand clasped the PADD and looked at the lettering on it.  Standard was not possible for her but she had learned that there was a pull down menu in the upper right corner of the screen.  Once she clicked that a menu opened and she was able to find the word in Klingon so it turned the PADD's message to Klingon. 

Zyrao read the message now that it was in a language that she knew and her eyes flickered up to Sera.  She gave a quick nod.  Understanding, and knowing the need for discretion.  If anyone found out, these Starfleet bastards would never let them do much of anything.  Their plan would fail, and it couldn't fail.  If the both of them were to survive, and to remain sane, this had to happen.  She erased the message and tossed the PADD back to the Security officer who scoffed as the two women looked at least other.  Zyrao let her lips relax into a large smile, and one with a little sensualness at the corners because it was time to play the game.  Time to put on the show.  Her fingers trailed down Sera's arm, the knuckles of her index and middle finger ran down her arm lightly.  Grey eyes burned into Sera's.

“I'll be there in an hour.  Sounds like a blast.  Wait for me.”  she grinned.  “I'll bring drinks.”  With that she winked at Sera and brushed off the corridor towards the Quarters.  She was going to need to collect some shit.

Re: CH03: S [D06|0901] Final Pieces

Reply #12
[ Sera vers Aldnoah | Upper Shuttle Bay | Deck 11 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Brutus
[Show/Hide]
Gratified to hear Zy being open to her idea, she just continued to beam innocently to the security guard after the El-Aurian left, barely having resisted the urge to pinch the woman's tight bottom before she left. As it were, she had merely had time to give the other woman a rueful grin and biting her lip in anticipation - playing along with her ploy.

For while their banter and display of affection might have been an act to conceal the real message she had to Zy, it might as well have been real. Zy might have been somewhat inexperienced with other women before her, but Sera thought the El-Aurian a quick study. In fact, had it been an act at all? Oh, but Sera enjoyed the idea she'd had already, looking forward to the prospects. She certainly wouldn't mind Zy's company for any extended time...

"Well, lead the way?" she said to the man, who was looking between the disappearing back of Zy and Sera, suspicious, but unable to phrase anything that might ease his condundrum. In the end, he simply continued walking without comment, and Sera followed them man with her tattooed hands behind her back. Giddy, she was even skipping away behind him. Thrilled that there might just be something to do about her current predicament, and get some fine company for the ride as well.

Soon, even Sera had cleared Deck 01... and the countdown had begun.

Re: CH03: S [D06|0901] Final Pieces

Reply #13
[Acting Captain Wenn Cinn | Ready Room | Deck 01 | USS Theurgy] attn: @CanadianVet @TWilkins

When Trent appeared on the screen Cinn was taken aback, the man looked like he’d come out of a Pah-wraith possession.  The background didn’t look much better.  Cinn couldn’t help but frown at the sight of their relieved Executive officer, if this was how he reacted to getting booted off of the Bridge then Dewitt’s case was building itself.  Trent’s spark was still there though, he didn’t hesitate to dictate terms even though he was locked up.  That wasn’t something the old security officer hadn’t dealt with before thankfully, it was amazing how many people in Starfleet had admirals as a parent, or a Federation Councilmember as a sponsor.

Cinn shook his head. “I’m sorry friend, I can’t countermand Dewitt just yet, not until I have all the stories.  I’ll head down your way, and I’ll have a telepath with me since you insist.  We’ll be there in a few minutes.  Cinn out.”  It was a bit abrupt, but the Bajoran was in no mood to argue over a comm unit.  Quickly bringing up the updated crew manifest, Cinn looked for someone with telepathic ability and wasn’t elbows deep in something critical.  It didn’t take long, though he wasn’t sure who this Lt. Elro Kobol  was.  A quick perusal of his record revealed why: he was one of the people they picked up from Endeavour.  All the better, that means he doesn’t know Trent and won’t be burdened by any bias.

“Captain Cinn to Lt. Kobol , I’m afraid I require your assistance with a sensitive matter.  Can you meet me on Deck 11?” he called as he rose to his feet.  Steeling himself for the upcoming matter, the Bajoran couldn’t help but wonder if it would be easier if he were the one getting interrogated, and by Cardassians.

[VIP Quarters | Deck 11 | Vector 01]

Waiting near the turbolift, Cinn had his head bowed and his eyes closed.  Deep in thought, mid prayer, whatever the crew thought he was doing as they passed was probably valid.  At the sound of the opening turbolift his head came up and he gave the Lieutenant a sad smile and nod off greeting.  “I’m sorry to pull you out of Sickbay, I’m sure you’re up to your necks in triage.  This shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”  Gesturing down the hall, Cinn let Elro walk abreast of him.  “This ship’s normal XO and acting captain was relieved by Commander Dewitt, his acting exec, citing regulation 619.  He insisted that a telepath be present for his interview which is why I’ve asked you to assist.  Do you have any objections or wish to decline?”  Stopping momentarily, Cinn reached out to touch the other man’s should.  “This isn’t an order.  If you’re uncomfortable with this I can find someone else.”

Satisfied with Kobol ’s response, Cinn resumed the walk, but this time it was in silence (for him at least.)  Trent’s quarters were easily recognizable thanks to the pair of guards standing on either side of the door.  They both gave Cinn a smile and slight nod of greeting which their old chief returned.  “Wait outside for a few, I have some things I should share in private with the Commander.” he told Kobol  just before tapping the call button.  “Trent, it’s Cinn.”

Re: CH03: S [D06|0901] Final Pieces

Reply #14
[ Lieutenant Elro Kobol | Turbolift | Deck 11 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] @chXinya @CanadianVet

A sensitive matter. Elro had to swallow the lump in his throat that resurfaced once again at the reminder of the reasoning behind his summons. It wasn’t often that Elro had been summoned by Captain Amosov back on the Endeavour; outside of senior staff meetings, he was only called upon to leave Sickbay when there was a true emergency taking place.

And that was when he had been the Chief Medical Officer aboard.

So unless Captain Cinn was planning to give Elro an impromptu promotion, a theory in which Elro was not keen to place much stock in, he could only assume that the aforementioned ‘sensitive’ matter was something leaning towards the unfortunate. Since he’d been called away from Sickbay, Elro could only assume that this wasn’t a medical issue. But regardless, the Betazoid wanted to make a good impression for their new Captain, and so he responded to the call with the swift punctuality he was renowned for.

As the doors to the turbolift opened, Elro stepped out to be greeted by a man whom he could only assume was the Captain. A Bajoran with dark skin, and a melancholy smile on his face. Elro was surprised by the man's facial ridges, though not in an affrontive way. It was a interesting change to see a Captain who wasn't a Human.

“I’m sorry to pull you out of sickbay, I’m sure you’re up to your necks in triage.” The man began, to which Elro gave the smallest of nods. Indeed, triage was chaotic. His uncooperative Bolian woman was stable and her bioregenerative field had been established, but Elro couldn’t help but be a trifle anxious about leaving Rhys, or rather, Lieutenant Williams, in charge of monitoring her whilst he was away from her bedside. “This shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

Elro was relieved to hear him say so, he couldn’t help but feel a trifle negligent to be gallivanting around the decks with the Captain whilst the rest of the medical team were barely holding up the rafters in Sickbay. The worst thought spinning through Elro’s head was that it was only a matter of time before another incident happened and Sickbays became flooded with more casualties. They were already at capacity; any more patients and they’d be treating them on the floor. Elro wondered whether he should ask the Captain about setting up a temporary triage facility in one of the recreational areas…

He supposed that was overstepping his bounds. He wasn’t Chief anymore.

“This ship’s normal XO and acting Captain was relieved by Commander Dewitt, his acting exec, citing regulation 619. He insisted that a telepath be present for his interview which is why I’ve asked you to assist.” Captain Cinn continued to reveal to him, which made the pieces fit together in his head as to the reason for his summoning. He was there to poke into someone’s mind and fish out whether they were telling the truth or not. Elro felt a cold prickle down his neck.

He didn’t enjoy the thought of judging someone’s guilt through their thoughts. Sometimes the mind wasn’t as black and white as people assumed… But if he was being asked, a straggler from a destroyed ship, with no real position on the Theurgy, his presence truly must have been needed. He supposed there probably weren't a great deal of Betazoids aboard; It wasn’t a job a Vulcan could easily perform. Betazoid telepathy was a much more precise instrument than a mind meld…

So when the Captain placed a touch on Elro’s shoulder, and asked respectfully whether Elro was happy to go through with affirming the former XO’s thoughts, Elro was content to accept.

“I’m not uncomfortable with clarifying his version of the events.” Elro confirmed with a small smile. “But I can only confirm for you if he believes he’s telling the truth… See it for myself from his perspective. But depending on the incident, perspective can get warped over time.” The Betazoid briefly explained, probably sounding annoyingly sceptical, but feeling the need to point out the information regardless. Sometimes people overestimated the accuracy of telepathy. “But if he has any doubts about his own story, I’ll know.”

Captain Cinn seemed content with the Telepath’s response, slowing his pace as they approached a set of crew Quarters with armed guards flanking the door. Captain Cinn requested for Elro to wait outside for a moment, before he moved to tap on the com link and announced his presence to ‘Trent’. His apparent defendant.

Elro decided his best use of time was to begin stretching his paracortex, testing and focussing it, making sure that nothing would slip through his mental net.

Considering he made decisions regarding life and death every day, serving as a living lie detector during a somewhat bureaucratic proceeding was something of a holiday for him.

Elro supposed it was nice to have something different to break up the day.
Elro Kobol  - Chief Medical Officer - USS Theurgy - [Show/Hide]

Otheusz - Grey Scars Pirate - USS Theurgy - [Show/Hide]

Y'Lev - Syndicate Dominus - USS Theurgy - [Show/Hide]

Re: CH03: S [D06|0901] Final Pieces

Reply #15
[ Cmdr Carrigan Trent | Day 06 | Secured VIP quarters | Deck 11 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] @chXinya @TWilkins

When the line was cut and the screen went blank, Trent caught his reflection in the glossy surface.  Unshaven; his eyes were sunken in deep, dark pits.  He had been gaunt when he had defected from the Archeron, but now the combination of exhaustion and stress, and barely having slept at all in the last three days, left him in a state he could charitably refer as looking like death very briefly warmed over.  And there was no way at all Wenn Cinn would not have picked up on such, or the fact that much of the room's decorations that hadn't been secured, and just about everything that had been on the wet bar, had flown from where they had been when the IDF experienced that malfunction. 

Something was telling Trent this was going to be an uphill battle from the start.

But battle was what he knew; he was tired and half-broken.  But his mind was still working, and so long as he had that, then he could make true what he believed most about battles: that war was intellect and not raw passion. 

And he did not have to wait long before the door chimed.  Cinn coming to him was not something he had initially expected.  His unwillingness to challenge Dewitt so soon, in retrospect, was probably a good idea.  The Security Chief was as canny as they came, and Trent had absolutely no doubt that he had received Dewitt's version of events, and that she'd spared no effort in making him look like a lunatic who had no control over his higher functions due to emotion, while she would have neglected to mention any of her own misdeeds and shortcomings. 

With the door panel shorted out, there was no way for Trent to call back.  After all, it he was already being held incommunicado unless someone called him.  But there was something he could do...

Walking up to the door, he opened the scorched control panel, and with contemptuous ease he overrode the lock, letting the door hiss open.  "Wenn.  I would have said come in, but with the door panel shorted out, there would have been no way to tell you.  You might want to get that fixed if you'll keep me here."

With that much of a greeting out of the way, Trent walked deeper into what was his cell.  "So you're here."  Dewitt had written him off as dead, she had said so openly on the Bridge, not that he expected she would have told the Bajoran so by now.  "What's our status?  Did Vector 3 make it as well?  I think we're at warp," there was always this feeling when a ship went faster than light, something every experienced spacer could tell, but in those luxurious quarters, quarters that were deep within the ship and devoid of windows, it was impossible to tell for certain given he was cut off from the computer at this time.  "But I was unconscious until you called, so I can't be truly certain."

Re: CH03: S [D06|0901] Final Pieces

Reply #16
[Acting Captain Wenn Cinn | VIP Quarters | Deck 11 | Vector 1 | USS Theurgy] attn: @CanadianVet @TWilkins

Trent’s brusque greeting was answered with a small frown, though thankfully Cinn managed to keep it off of his face until after the human had turned around.  As he followed Trent inside he glanced around the room, taking in as much detail as he could with an initial passover.  The room was an absolute wreck.  Items were scattered about on every surface, what looked like a wet bar (one of the perks of being XO the Bajoran guessed) had been all but smashed, and what little that was standing was clearly askew.  Much of it looked like it had been thrown in the same direction and Cinn tallied that as victims of F’Rell’s warp jump.  The rest though…this was not the quarters of a Starfleet officer, that was certain.

“Have a seat Trent, before I bring Lt. Kobol  in I want to discuss something in private first.”  Directing the man to the sitting area Cinn let him pick which seat he wanted, but his tone made it very clear that standing was not an option.  Once they were seated the Bajoran answered his initial questions.  “Our current status is that we’re a mess.  Vector 2 did find Vector 3 and we were able to link up, but both vectors took some serious damage.  The Sword had been discovered by Chancellor Martok of all people, and he believes that we killed his son and destroyed the Hakkarl.  The Stallion was attacked by the Asurans while coming to the aid of another Starfleet ship that they’d attacked, the Cayuga.  Right now, all three Vectors are linked and we’re stuck on a high-warp jump that will last for a little less than an hour.  As for afterwards… I’m sorry, but we have more pressing issues than mounting a rescue.”

Glancing towards the door to make sure no one was visible in the gap, Cinn’s voice lowered a bit, with the door ajar he didn’t want anyone outside to overhear.  “I just need to confirm first, you and Heather McMillan have been close, correct?”  Getting the confirmation Cinn braced himself as he continued.  “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but we have reliable intelligence that she’s been killed, along with most people we lost  to the Savi.”  In the next minute or so Cinn explained the reality behind their Chief Medical Officer, which Trent likely knew from Ryan Del, but focused on how he had the ability to see though other parasites, and how these visions have been confirmed through their surviving Martok’s wrath.  “And to make things worse, the Borg are here in the nebula, led by the Queen herself.  The Allegiant spotted them, while they were scouting for us. The Sword took aboard survivors from the Endeavour, which the Borg destroyed. The Cayuga was adrift after an encounter with the Borg, and before we escaped Martok, we all saw a Borg cube vanishing through a hidden subspace tunnel. We have reason to believe that they are going to mount a full-scale invasion of the quadrant within the next few hours.”

With that out of the way, it was time to get Trent’s version of events.  Cinn wished he could leave Trent alone for a while before getting to this, but there just wasn’t time.  “Lieutenant?” he called out to Kobol , letting the Betazoid that it was time.  “I hate to do it, but we have to jump straight into this Trent.  I need you to tell me everything that happened once you’d arrived at the rendezvous point."

Re: CH03: S [D06|0901] Final Pieces

Reply #17
[ Lieutenant Elro Kobol | VIP Quarters | Deck 11 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] @CanadianVet @chXinya

“Lieutenant.” A voice called out, which Elro took as an invitation to enter the room before him, silently stepping inside and trying not to appear to awkward in his appearance. There was something about meeting someone he’d never met before, purely to probe his mind, that seemed off to the Betazoid. Not because it was unnatural to him, it was in fact the opposite, but because he had spent most of his life being conditioned not to do exactly that. Elro tried to appear neutral as he entered, eyes scanning the room around him and trying not to make any form of response to its appearance; the room was in ruin. Items were strewn across surfaces and the floor in a frightfully haphazard manner, with furniture damaged and disheveled, as though the room had been the victim of some sort of graviton fluctuation. The Betazoid felt uncomfortable to be stood in such chaotic quarters.

Instead of drowning in the discomfort, Elro settled himself by focusing on his task. He started by taking a glance towards ‘Trent’ as Elro knew him by, and the sight elicited a tone of pity from the Betazoid. From a medical perspective, Elro already felt concerned. The man’s eyes were sunken into his face, his chin unshaven, though not in a ‘designer’ sort of fashion, and his face was gaunt and worn as though he hadn’t slept or eaten in days. If Elro has been the Chief Medical officer, perhaps he would have immediately requested that the man be brought to Sickbay for a medical, followed by vitamin supplements, a warm meal and at least six hours of sleep, before any interrogations took place. 

But alas, Elro didn’t have the power to do that. And even if he did, perhaps it was a course of action that would go amiss aboard the Theurgy. They were warping into a conflict with the Borg, the ship seemed practically falling apart, sickbays were full to bursting… Perhaps if they lived through the contact, Elro would push the concerns, but for now, perhaps he would be best to pass a discrete word to Captain Cinn after the conclusion of the talk.

“I hate to do it, but we have to jump straight into this Trent.” Captain Cinn began, making Elro turn back to the Bajoran with a furrow it his brow. “I need you to tell me everything that happened once you’d arrived at the rendezvous point.”

“I’m Lieutenant Elro Kobol , Chief Medical Officer of the USS Endeavour, as we’ve not met before…” Elro felt a little out of place stepping in at that point, and duly hoped he wasn’t stepping on the toes of either of the superior officers that he’d known for a grand total of about thirty seconds, but they weren’t savages. As far as Elro was concerned, the man was owed a name before someone began burrowing into his mind. As he introduced himself, the Betazoid began to relinquish the restraints he held upon his paracortex, feeling the rush of emotion from everyone in the surrounding few decks before he narrowly began to focus on ‘Trent’s’ head.

At first, Elro couldn’t quite be sure if he was still getting residual empathic readings from other crewmembers aboard the Theurgy; the maelstrom inside the head of the man before him was difficult to perceive immediately. But slowly the various strands of the man’s mentality came into Elro’s perception, and whilst it was a jumbled mess, Elro certainly had the ability to distinguish a few key emotions that seemed to be held back by some sort of mental floodgate within ‘Trent’s’ head. Elro imagined that if that mental floodgate failed, the man would break.

Elro didn’t have much experience with people feeling such terrible feelings, and Elro did his absolute best not to extend some sort of comfort to the man. Anyone he had met before, who was battling with such a myriad of emotion, would have been a patient of his, whom he was obligated to try and reassure or comfort in some manner. But this man wasn’t within his reach as a medical professional. He had to stay objective.

The man didn’t know whether to feel relief or suspicion about the presence of the Bajoran and Betazoid that had come to interview him, and through both of those emotions Elro could feel anger blistering like fire inside of his head, a fire that burned with the feeling of betrayal and hatred. But even more potent was the pit of shame and resentment that it all seemed lodged within, weeping with some festering combination of sorrow, shock and paranoia. Elro struggled to contend with picking out the key emotions, and perhaps his perception was flawed, but regardless, the man was in a state of mind that seemed almost outside of its own control, sealed by an iron bulwark of discipline that must have been wrenching for the man to endure.

“Just tell your story to Captain Cinn, think about the events that occurred to you as clearly as you can remember them.” Elro calmly told ‘Trent’, settling down on an unoccupied perch and keeping his dark eyes focused on ‘Trent’, and his paracortex honed in on his mental state. He relaxed the grip on his telepathy and slowly felt his way into the man’s head, trying to keep his facial expression as neutral as he possibly could as he began to bore his way into the man’s mind.

Elro couldn’t imagine that there would be anything pleasant to be seen inside.



OOC please do let me know if there is anything about Elro's empathic perceptions that don't correspond with something occurring inside of Trent's head and I'll get them changed lickety split.
Elro Kobol  - Chief Medical Officer - USS Theurgy - [Show/Hide]

Otheusz - Grey Scars Pirate - USS Theurgy - [Show/Hide]

Y'Lev - Syndicate Dominus - USS Theurgy - [Show/Hide]

Re: CH03: S [D06|0901] Final Pieces

Reply #18
[ Cmdr Carrigan Trent | Day 06 | Secured VIP quarters | Deck 11 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] @chXinya @TWilkins

When invited to sit, which was odd given this was currently his own space, Trent did so on the settee and gestured for the Bajoran to take a seat of his own.  After all, it would not do to be uncivil at this point in time.  Even though the unsaid part was that if the human would rather stand, he would be made to park himself.  And then, information started coming in.

So far as reports went, it was beyond succinct.  It was what a summary of a synopsis of the condensed version would be.  But then again, it would seem that time was a factor.  Why is he in such a hurry, wondered Trent.  He was known to be one to want to consider all data available before making a decision, so to give him such a concentrated form had to mean something.  But there was still much to consider.  A Klingon fleet was about?  The Asurians did not exactly come as a surprise, not when their queen issued what amounted to a hunting license to whoever wanted a piece of Theurgy

But he knew about his intent to mount a rescue.  Of course.  He would not have been there unless Dewitt had spoken to him first.  Now, it would not be hard to guess what she had said. 

But then, he asked a question that struck the Human like a slap.  "Of course we are."  The image of the slight Radiant flashed in his mind, smiling, shining, lovely; the image he struggled so hard to remember, as opposed to that of her being savaged by one of those Savi monstrosities that haunted him whenever he allowed his focus to wander the least bit, or whenever he closed his eyes.  And then the hit came.

Dead.  The news robbed the voice from an already quiet man, and his eyes screwed shut even as tears began to well.  His teeth clenched and his shoulders shook as he fought the need to sob.  But, even as a wave of despair crashed over him, followed by yet even more self-loathing, shame, regret, all backed by a cold, hard, black hatred, more information followed, as to how he received the information, and something else.  The words did not register at first, but there was still left enough of the man's higher functions, enough of the tactician, enough of the analyst, to recognize something fundamental.  Something that shook the nature of those words.  For a moment, he remained silent as his breathing came back under control and he blinked hard to clear his vision.  "Stop right there.  You were with me when we interrogated Acreth.  You know as well as I do those things play games with us.  And while Nicander did give you information that was useful to you, he also knew he'd be dead if he didn't provide it.  Self-preservation is a great motivator for giving out valuable intelligence." 

"Your source is unreliable."  Those four words came out, ice-cold and nearly whisper-quiet.  And he felt it, deep in his chest, buried under the layers of his failure, something that might have passed for hope if he could recognize it. 

And now, he had to tell his story.  And for some time, he said nothing as he took a moment to organize thoughts thrown into chaos by the emotions he could barely constrain anymore.  "Let's begin at the beginning, three days ago.  Dewitt," he did not use her rank; to anyone who knew Carrigan Trent's speech patterns, one would know that referring to someone simply by their surname, save for a rare few, was a sign of disdain and displeasure.  "Told me my own honour and integrity were irrelevant to the nature of the mission.  Of course I want to rescue Heather, but I also know I don't have the same hold on the crew Captain Ives has.  A hold you don't have either, and Dewitt certainly doesn't either and there is no way we can continue this mission if the crew breaks because we abandoned their shipmates. So I told her my intent was to make an attempt at a rescue, not the hell-for-leather suicide run she claimed I was dead-set on."

Dewitt obviously did not know Trent well.  He was a meticulous operational planner, and he had started to formulate countermeasures against the Savi's own cyberwarfare efforts, and attack plans; all he would have needed was run them through a few other people whose expertise he could trust so they could be refined to a usable state. 

"Now, when we arrived to the RV site, elements of Task Force Archeron intercepted us.  Dewitt meant to run at the first sign of trouble, as if the the least of Sankolov's units could not run down the Helmet at leisure, and then leave you to run into him and his ships.  I meant to give you your hour at the very least, and to contact you, so I gave Sankolov an engagement like he had never seen before, and that would invalidate most of the enemy's advantages." 

He kept on explaining, how he would take concepts flawed on their own and adapt them to make them into potent assets towards their survival, how the Sabine had been deployed along with probes to serve as decoys.  How their warp core had become unstable even as the cloak came online, and how he had ordered a runabout prepared to be used as a much larger decoy, one to simulate a warp core breach to obscure their subspace trail if they would have to leave before Natalie Stark and Wenn Cinn would arrive if need be.  How she challenged him when things became more fraught.  But then, he came towards the end of his time in command. 

"When we started taking fighter fire, my judgement was that we could take their fire; they were shooting at random, from a long enough range; given one, perhaps two more maneuvers, we would have broken contact and been able to wait for you in peace.
 Now, I doubt she told you this, but she unilaterally deployed a handful of small craft against the enemy fighters and two starships, before she opened direct fire and negated our stealth advantage.  At this time, I was forced to take direct action lest the small craft she deployed without orders would be massacred, so I ordered Commander Marquez to plot a mission-kill strike on Bellerophon; I do not know what happened when she was hit to cause catastrophic damage, it's not like I had a chance to review the tactical log.  I gave the order to prepare for a similar attack on Dauntless and end the pursuit we were under.  That is when I was relieved."

"First, she violated my trust by revealing a conversation we had in confidence, and then outright lied about my intent.  She declared we had to be the last Vector, so she wrote you off, as well as effectively gave the order to murder our people held by the Savi."

The betrayal was painful, and a source of no small amount of hate towards that woman.  But what truly hurt, what was truly unforgivable, was that she had broken faith with the crew by abandoning the captives and giving up on the other Vectors.  And she had the nerve to claim her own integrity and sense of duty compelled her to relieve him... after she had declared his own to be irrelevant.


Re: CH03: S [D06|0901] Final Pieces

Reply #19
[ Lieutenant Elro Kobol  | VIP Quarters | Deck 11 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] @chXinya @CanadianVet

Elro had extended his telepathy to the man in front of him before he had even begun to deliver his side of the evidence. His thoughts already overflowing with a miasma of emotions that Elro struggled to traverse without becoming lost in the sheer blizzard that was raging in the Human's head. A face predominantly occupied his mind’s eye, a human female with coppery hair, blue eyes and alabaster skin. Dewitt. The source of the man’s internal torment.

But with a passing beat, hostility dissolved, Dewitt’s face swallowed up by a new face foggily moving through his mind, one that smiled wide and joyfully. Heather. It was a haunting image for Trent, one that brought sorrow fulminating through him with the force of a hurricane, despair drowning all of his other thoughts, flashes of Heather’s foggy face becoming mired in pools of his own despondency. Dead. Elro felt the pain flow through the both of them, making his own eyes prickle with tears. To share such intimate thoughts was a harsh reality for both parties.

But the man seemed an expert on calming himself once again, even as he spoke, beginning his evidence, his mind was slowly draining away thoughts of Heather and strange aliens with dark eyes and large cranial domes, even a wisp of hope that darted around like a dragonfly was quashed in exchange for hard facts and evidence. Dewitt returned, disdain surrounding her face. In Trent’s mind’s eye, Dewitt was a harsh-faced woman, her face creased and sour, as though she spent the majority of her life chewing on hornets. Elro wondered if the woman truly presented herself so grimly, or whether Trent’s mind had inadvertently twisted her based on his own experience with the woman. The Betazoid had to assume the latter.

[Show/Hide]

As Trent spoke, Elro could see the events unfolding in his mind's eye, his emotions growing volatile as he painfully recalled the events that had led to his current status, his mind disgusted with itself for ever letting Dewitt lend him her ear. Elro noted how she told him so bluntly that the mission was more important than his personal honour and his ability to live with himself come its conclusion. How she pried into his personal thoughts and inappropriately asked him whether Heather MacMillan was the reason for his determination.

Elro saw that Trent had informed Dewitt of his intent to rescue the crew and watched as she buttered him up with promises of hope and friendship. He had complimented her abilities as an XO and told her how much he would be relying on her. As Trent thought back on these moments, he felt nothing but resentment and fury over the words that were leaving her lips, at the way he had trusted her when she was probably already plotting her betrayal. His calmness shuddered with anger at her hypocrisy and her sheer lies. But back at the time, from what Elro could sense from the memories, he’d felt some true companionship with the woman. Something that only served to make the sting of her betrayal more brutal for the man.

But everything he had said thus far corroborated with his thoughts, his emotions. It was all honest. He wasn’t making anything up to make his story sound more favourable. What he was telling the Captain and what he was revealing to Elro were honest depictions of his versions of the events. At least, as honest as anything could be when viewed from a singular perspective.

[Show/Hide]

Trent’s story continued to remain honest, and whilst Elro certainly couldn’t comment on the man’s tactical plans in the moment, he was again delivering information that he believed to be entirely true. Elro could see the way that the man believed wholeheartedly that his decision had been the only one worth attempting, and the only possible option that he would have been able to consider in the moment. Elro was surprised to sense nothing smug about the man’s memory. His decision had evidently been the correct one, to wait, otherwise Elro, and the rest of the crew from Vector two and three might have stumbled into an ambush.

No, the man didn’t have anything smug about him. Just quiet resentment as to how his strategy had been undermined, how only half of his bridge crew had supported him, and how the other half had eagerly turned against him to side with the harpy who had turned the tables on him. He was ashamed, but it was his rage that burned brightest of all, but even that was eclipsed by his sheer determination to ensure that the right story was told.

[Show/Hide]

His words were truthful, filled with scorn for the woman who'd usurped his command so completely from him, having to think on his feet to recover from the losses that she could have caused them. Elro saw so clearly in his mind, the last commands that Trent delivered before the viper struck. He’d ordered a Commander Marquez to open fire at a longer range, in order to give the fighters supporting fire. He’d order Mister Veradin to intercept the Dauntless. Elro committed the names to memory. They’d be good to pass on to Captain Cinn to corroborate Trent’s perspective.

Veradin?

Elro’s throat suddenly felt a little dry.

How many pilots with the name Veradin could there be in Starfleet? But then, what were the odds of Elro having ended up on the same ship as that particular Trill after all so many years. Elro did his best not to let the thought distract him; he was there to check the validity of Trent’s claims. Not to telepathically stalk his Ex. But what if… No. Focus. He had umpteen ways to find out whether the Veradin aboard the ship was the one he’d dated back at the Academy. Right now, Trent was the priority.

[Show/Hide]

His feelings of betrayal, frustration and anger were overwhelming. Residual feelings of nothing less than absolute malice bubbled up through him and made his internal emotions shudder with a violent fury that gripped at him and threatened to take control. In his mind, Trent relived the feeling of so many layers of trust being shred away. He’d put faith in Dewitt, trusted her, listened to her council and fought for her allegiance. She had thrown it all back at him, discarded each promise on the floor of the bridge as she had usurped control from underneath him, summoning forth a security detachment that was far exceeding what was necessary to apprehend him, perhaps as a show of power, or perhaps as a way to solidify her mutiny to the members of the Bridge crew who would have agreed with him.

[Show/Hide]

Trent recalled so clearly how she had stood and sited regulation in her cold voice. In front of all of his colleagues, she berated his decision’s, blaming him for countless deaths and ripped his personal life into all of their eyes. Because of you and Heather MacMillan. Trent could barely recall the memory without anger spilling over, ripping through his calm mask once again. The woman was a harpy from how Trent painted her in his head. She lied and manipulated her Captain, used the trust he placed in her to overthrow him.

She slandered him, informed the entire bridge crew and security detachment as to how he was emotionally compromised, how Trent had told her himself in a confession made in private. Whilst Elro could see clearly that Trent did have a personal attachment to Heather that did push some of the drive behind his actions, according to Trent’s recollection, it wasn’t to the extent that Dewitt was showing. According to Trent, Dewitt had used her authority as XO as a power play to get control of the ship. To govern the crew with her withered cowardice and deceit.

Perhaps the most interesting part of the memories that Elro could see, were the parts where Dewitt announced to the bridge crew that Vector One was the last Vector still standing. She forced the issue, talked about how clearly it was to see that the other Vectors would have been destroyed, citing the command of a Captain Ives, to say that their orders were to protect the truth. Elro again could confirm that what he could see in Trent’s head was honest, and that Dewitt’s play could have ruined the chances for both other vectors entirely.

Elro heard Trent’s own voice ripple out through his own memory, a clear image, his voice filled with naught but discontempt for the usurping Officer. He told her with a cold and heartless voice, that she was a hypocrite, a coward and a murder. How she hid behind her orders. How ashamed he was to have ever had faith in her. How she was a disgrace to the very uniform she wore. Elro saw it from an outside eye, one that could look back on the memories of what Trent had endured, the way he had looked around and seen dozens of crewmen, some traitorous, some aghast with the decision that had been made. Elro could not place any stock nor commentary in the tactical decisions made by Trent; Elro was no strategist, that would be Cinn’s job. However from the recall of the events, Elro could find himself in nothing but agreement with Commander Trent.

He knew his objectivity was required. But Trent had been correct. The woman was nothing short of a viper. 

But Elro wasn’t there to pass judgement.

“First,” Trent began to conclude his story. “She violated my trust by revealing a conversation we had in confidence, and then outright lied about my intent.  She declared we had to be the last Vector, so she wrote you off, as well as effectively gave the order to murder our people held by the Savi.” From viewing his memories, Elro had been cleanly able to come to the same conclusion.

His mind ached with the torment of the events that that passed, but what seemed to sting the keenest, was the way that Trent had held the best interests of all of the crew who existed aboard the Theurgy at heart. Dewitt only had cared for those she could see. In his mind, she had abandoned everyone who considered themselves a part of the crew, who were not aboard Vector One to death and torment.

Elro quietly withdrew from his mind as silence fell upon the room.

“I can confirm that everything Commander Trent has said is the truth, as he can perceive it.” Elro turned to Captain Cinn to deliver his verdict. “As far as I am able to confirm, whilst Trent was deeply concerned about the status of a Ms Heather MacMillan…” Who wouldn’t be concerned about someone they loved? Or someone they had loved… “He firmly believes that all of the actions he took were in the absolute best interest of the entire crew of the Theurgy. His interests were never intended to be self serving, but rather, to ensure the entire crew would have the chance to reintegrate as one.”

Elro drew quiet as he finished his verification, glancing quietly at Captain Cinn, waiting for his response to the information he had been provided.
Elro Kobol  - Chief Medical Officer - USS Theurgy - [Show/Hide]

Otheusz - Grey Scars Pirate - USS Theurgy - [Show/Hide]

Y'Lev - Syndicate Dominus - USS Theurgy - [Show/Hide]

Re: CH03: S [D06|0901] Final Pieces

Reply #20
[Acting Captain Wenn Cinn | VIP Quarters | Deck 11 | Vector 1 | USS Theurgy] attn: @CanadianVet @TWilkins

Cinn almost wished he could go back a few minutes and not say anything about what Nicander had told them about their crewmates.  What was he thinking, dropping that kind of a bombshell on the man, especially just before an interview?  Watching Trent process that kind of news was heartbreaking, and the way the human’s grief quickly turned into a cold shell of his former mood made the Bajoran fear for a moment.  Worse though, Trent set it aside with a simple four word statement that sounded like a justification for full-blown denial to Cinn’s ears.

When Trent went silent Cinn didn’t say anything, giving the man his piece while Elro came in and got situated.  His dismissal of Nicander’s intelligence capabilities was no real surprise to Cinn, if he hadn’t been there when he revealed that ability of the parasites he probably would’ve dismissed it himself.  Something about it suddenly came to him, Nicander said that he was able to buck the parasite’s control thanks to Heather herself.  Cinn opened his mouth to share this small victory but Trent started with his side of the mutiny before he could say anything.

Watching Trent and Kobol  at the same time, the experience security officer listened intently.  Spoken words were one thing, body language was another so most of the scrutiny was on the human rather than the Betazoid.  All throughout it Trent didn’t show much in the way of emotion, something expected of an intelligence officer.  He kept to the facts, treated this as an extended debriefing.  One clear theme did make itself apparent though: Dewitt was an obstructionist who only saw issues with Trent’s plans and worked against him.  Cinn kept his own reactions in check, but as the old XO’s side of the story evolved it became clear to him that Trent was the center of the story with no flaw to speak of.

After several minutes Trent’s recounting came to an end and Kobol  gave his insight.  Cinn didn’t expect him to lie so it was no surprise that Elro found no hint of deception.  His feelings towards Heather weren’t of any shock either, he’d made his feelings about her quite clear in the beginning.  Nodding slowly as he absorbed the report, “Thank you Lieutenant.  That will be all, thank you for your help.” he graciously dismissed the other man with.  Watching him leave out of the corner of his eye, Cinn turned his full attention to Trent as soon as they were alone.

“This is quite the mess we have Carrigan.” he said, the understatement of the day.  Standing, Cinn started to pace a little bit.  “When I got the other side of this it reminded me of the fight between Burnham and Georgiou back in the 2250s.  At first I was thinking the similarities are on the foundation of conflicting principles.  Now though…” reaching one of the windows, the Bajoran stopped and stared out at the warp-distorted nebula outside.  “In the name of the Prophets what were you both thinking…” he whispered.  He tried to put himself into both of their shoes (as the humans say), sitting in the Chair and balancing the crew he had with the other two scattered through the nebula as well as those that had been taken.  Survival was paramount, Captain Ives had made that clear just before they were beamed away.  But could they leave everyone else to the mercy of an uncaring universe while doing so?  He imagined his ferociously protective deputy, Ida, standing with him on the Bridge when such a decision had to be made.  If he’d left the rest of the crew to rot she’d’ve called him out on the spot he was certain.  Would the others?  Or like Dewitt experienced, would most of the crew be on his side and save their own skins?

Ending that train of thought, Cinn returned to the true matter at hand.  Who was right in that argument might be related, but like the commanders of the Shenzhou, this was a question that’ll be argued over for decades (assuming they survive).  From what he’d seen and heard, Cinn knew what he had to do.

Turning from the window to face the accused, Cinn’s eyes projected a look of apology.  “I’m sorry Commander, but I have to agree that you’re currently unfit for command.”  Clasping his hands together behind him, he bulldozed on to head off any sort of protest.  “We don’t have time to sit and argue over who was right when it came to staying to reintegrate or to flee, but it’s clear to me that you’re in no position to be able to command anyone, at least at the moment.  Once this Borg crisis is over we’ll have both medical and counseling give you a full exam, but for now the crew will need to be able to follow someone without question.  Dewitt has already decided that it’s not her and insisted the center seat go to me for now.  Stark’ll serve as exec.  This doesn’t mean you’ll remain under house arrest though, you’re too good an analyst to leave locked up, and we’ll need the best when we throw down with the Collective in a few hours.”

Done with his pronouncement, Cinn braced for the response.

Re: CH03: S [D06|0901] Final Pieces

Reply #21
[ Cmdr Carrigan Trent | Day 06 | Secured VIP quarters | Deck 11 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] @chXinya @TWilkins

By the time he was done talking, Trent was utterly drained.  The exhaustion of the last three days with negligible sleep and too much work had caught up with him.  And that had been only a drop in the bucket compared to the herculean efforts he had been forced to muster so he could master himself enough to present his customary cool and composed calm to a crew that needed to know their commander was in control not only of just himself but of the situation.  How much longer could he have kept this up between the sleep deprivation that came from long hours and the paralyzing fear he had of the nightmares that would wait for him once he would drift away. 

There was a moment of silence after he was done talking, but his heart was hammering inside his chest, its pounding nearly deafening him.  His own breathing was no longer smooth and even, but came in ragged breaths as he fought the need to simply let it all go.  And hearing Heather's name spoken aloud again was like an icy knife in his heart.  If he could have traded places with her, he would have without a second thought.  Her name, synonym for love and gentleness and the realization there indeed was true beauty left in the world... and what had been taken from him by those monstrosities.  Oh, how much he wanted to hope...

He did not realize his mind had wandered until the door hissed shut, and Cinn spoke again.  What had they been thinking?  That was one he could answer, at least to some degree.  "Let me think.  That my orders were to take command of the ship and to accomplish the mission.  That as the officer in command, exactly how I go about it is entirely my prerogative.  That Starfleet doesn't abandon its people.  That the woman I love is being tortured by fucking monsters.  That the Helmet is a fucking joke of a starship that wouldn't have a hope in hell to accomplish the mission on its own." 

"What she was thinking?  Probably how to find a way to run without looking like too much of a fucking coward." 

Trent's voice was low, barely above a murmur, but it fairly dripped with frozen acid.  And the fact he had actually resorted to coarse language, this man who made a point to ever remain polite in his speech, ought to speak volumes. 

And then, the verdict came.  And he had expected to hear much of what he did.  But going to fight the Borg?   And he had his notions thrown back into his face as suicidal?  "I never wanted this command," he replied flatly.  "not like this.  Hell, I never wanted the XO's slot either, but it wasn't my call either.  You want to go fight the Borg instead of rescuing our people or going on to spread the word?  It's your funeral, in more ways than one.  Does Dewitt know what you're planning?  Because if she does and decides she knows best you'll find her knife in your back.  And if she backs your play, then she's even a worse hypocrite than I ever could have imagined, and you'll spend your time looking over your shoulder wondering when she'll betray you." 

"And she knows that with you here, she can't take command.  Too many people on either side of the debate know what she did.  She outed herself as a coward without loyalty to this crew, who was ready to abandon you, and murdered what confidence the crew had in me.  And that's just one reason I can't command at this point either.  Your people, Natalie's people, they already follow you.  And if I countermand you, I hurt your credibility too, and even more people will second-guess my judgement even if it was the very definition of soundness."

"And frankly, I don't particularly care anymore." He let his eyes meet the Bajoran's, and he let the mask drop.  They were alone, after all; and he was just too damn tired to keep it up anymore and he let every ounce of his despair and exhaustion, physical, mental and emotional, show.  He felt like death warmed over; he had no doubt he looked even worse.  "Fighting because it's our duty, because if we won't no one else will.  I listened to that for twenty years.  Hell, that's what let me work up the nerve to feed enough disinformation to Sankolov to slow down his hunt, cripple his fleet and defect.  But it's not enough anymore.  I had something, someone, worth fighting for.  Now?  As much as I want to hope..."

He simply shook his head. "Cut me loose, keep me locked up, I won't get in your way. I'll just go back to my own quarters and I'll be out of your hair."

Re: CH03: S [D06|0901] Final Pieces

Reply #22
[Acting Captain Wenn Cinn | Senior Officer’s Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy] attn: @CanadianVet

[Day 06 | 1015 hrs]

Approaching the Executive Officer quarters with a fast stride, Cinn tried to make it look like this was a normal visit, the kind that commanders do when crewmates are in need of their care.  Inside his head though, the Bajoran could barely believe that he was doing this.  Just an hour ago he went to Trent’s temporary quarters to tell him that Nicander’s intelligence said that Heather McMillan was dead, news that confirmed his fears about the human’s mental state.  But now, just one surprise hail has changed everything.

Reaching Trent’s door Cinn didn’t hesitate to tap the call button.  Waiting a few seconds for a response, Cinn remembered that the man was on lockdown still, he couldn’t open the door even if he wanted to.  Keying in his override code, Cinn braced himself for the possibility that he’s about to catch Trent coming out of the shower.  The doors slid open without hesitation and Cinn stepped right in.  Hopefully Trent didn’t have a phaser stashed away, that could end in a very painful incident.

Spotting Trent, Cinn launched right into it without a care, there just wasn’t time to worry about things like that.  “You were right.  About ten minutes ago we got a hail from Thea, identity verified.  Fifteen minutes prior multiple members of our crew plus several from Endeavour started fighting for control of that ship.  She learned about the Borg from them and sent the warning in case we didn’t know.  We’re still en route to the Cayuga, but we have their location as well.”

Re: CH03: S [D06|0901] Final Pieces

Reply #23
[Commander Carrigan Trent | Senior Officer's Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy] attn: @chXinya

Hot water had scoured him; the perfect edge of carefully-honed steel had removed days of stubble that was showing no small amount of grey from his face.  And even as he dressed in a fresh uniform, he wondered simply why he had not dragged the edge of his razor across his throat; it would have been a quick way to go, severing the carotid arteries.  Unconscious in seconds, dead within a few minutes; and no one would know until he would be checked upon, and by then it would be too late.  And maybe, just maybe, if there was an afterlife, Heather would be waiting for him there.

But he had resisted the temptation.  Though, once dressed, he had simply sat on the bed, messily made, he had shared with Heather.  In his hands, he gathered that silken robe of hers and he brought it to his nose and took a deep breath, bringing in her scent.  It was faint, so very faint.  And soon enough it would fully dissipate. 

And, in the privacy of his quarters, clutching fabric he knew had caressed Heather's skin ever so gently, he allowed himself to weep and great sobs wracked his body.   That is, until the door's terminal chimed that an override was being applied, and it was going to be forced open.  Was this to be it?  Someone coming to put an end to him?  If only they knew that'd be doing him a favour...

By the time footfalls were heard within the room, Trent had mastered himself, but still he held the light pink silk in his hands, his eyes following the delicate pattern of flowers so carefully worked within the fine fibers.  And he did not look up as the footfalls approached him where he sat.  And even if he was of a mind to fight, he did not keep a weapon in his quarters.  The weapons policy Captain Ives had enacted was one he supported, and he did show its support for it by surrendering the phaser many senior officers often kept in their quarters. 

He was ready...

Until he heard Wenn Cinn's voice, and only then did he look up.  And the words he spoke struck him hard.  News of Heather's death had been like being struck by an anvil accelerated to relativistic velocities.  Odds are, until his death he would wonder how he managed to be coherent after he had received those news. 

But what was just told to him robbed him of his voice.  Robbed him of breath.  Robbed him of his mind.  His heart was hammering within his ribcage even as he tried to accept and process what he had heard.  His fingers tightened over the silk even as tears welled in his eyes, tears he worked hard to blink away.  They were alive.  When his voice came back under his control, there was but a single word he could manage to croak out, as if his throat was not wholly under his control.  "Heather?"

Re: CH03: S [D06|0901] Final Pieces

Reply #24
[Acting Captain Wenn Cinn | Senior Officer's Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy] attn: @CanadianVet

Trent may have been putting on the brave face, but Cinn saw right through it.  The puffiness around his eyes that still showed a hint of pink, the way he was clutching the silk, and the way the Bajoran’s news brought him up completely short were all key indicators that the human was still trying to process his grief.  Some psychology professor’s words echoed a warning in Cinn’s mind about the timing of good news, but there was no time for Trent to work through the grief process. 

The human finally croaked out a response, one word’s worth of question: “Heather?”  Cinn could only shake his head in the negative.  “Unknown, Thea was scarce on the details since she only had a few moments to send something.”  Gesturing to the couch, the acting captain invited Trent to sit as he himself settled into a guest chair.  “If she’s still alive over there, she’ll have the entirety of the surviving captives around her to protect her.  As long as any of them are still alive by the time we finish with the Borg she’ll be one of them.”

It wasn’t much of a reassurance honestly, but it was all Cinn had.  Cardassian captivity was the worst he knew, something he’d never wish on anyone, but even then you had some chance of coming out alive (once the Occupation had ended of course.)  These Savi were a complete unknown.  Thea had mentioned “kill teams” but hadn’t elaborated.  Which group was killing which?  “I have to reiterate Trent, all we know is that there’s a chance.  The worst part of it is that we can’t go to them, the Borg are too big of a threat to set aside, no matter what else is out there.”  The Bajoran’s dark eyes locked onto Trent’s, searching them for some sign of the man’s soul.  “We need all hands on deck for this, including yours.”

 
Simple Audio Video Embedder