DS9/A01 - Station Operations

[Paul]

==

[Morad Ameen]

The turbolift doors, heavy and cog-driven in the distinct Cardassian style, hissed open with a solid, mechanical sound, depositing Commander Ameen into the bustling heart of Operations on Deep Space Nine. The difference from the bridge of the USS Titania was immediate and stark. Instead of familiar Starfleet curves and soft lighting, Ops was a multi-tiered cavern of metallic greys and functional, hard-angled consoles, a clear testament to its original builders.

Cardassians... what interesting culture they have... 

He stepped onto the upper perimeter, his boots echoing faintly on the metallic deck. Below him, the main operations "pit" buzzed with activity. Officers – a mix of Starfleet, Bajoran, and civilian attire – moved with purpose between the various stations. 

Ameen straightened his Starfleet uniform. He’d received the summons an hour ago – a short, official notification requesting his presence. No agenda, no specific names. Just Ops. His gaze was naturally drawn upwards and across the expanse to the imposing, glass-fronted Commander's Office that dominated one side of the upper level, offering a clear view of everything and everyone below. That, he presumed, was his destination.

Strange... Captain Fields hadn’t mentioned anything out of the ordinary during their last briefing. Routine patrol adjustments, some supply requisitions for the Titania… nothing that would warrant a personal, off-ship summons to this very distinct command center...

He was the First Officer of the USS Titania, a role he took with utmost seriousness. Captain Fields ran a tight ship, and Ameen prided himself on anticipating needs and ensuring smooth operations. This summons, to this place, felt significant, and its purpose remained stubbornly opaque.

Spotting a junior officer near the railing that overlooked the pit, momentarily free from a console that seemed to be tracking docking procedures, Ameen approached. 

"Commander Ameen, USS Titania, reporting as requested," he stated, his voice cutting cleanly through the ambient noise. "I was instructed to meet someone here?"

He kept any personal curiosity carefully masked by professional decorum. Whatever this was, he would handle it. But the undercurrent of the unknown, amplified by the unfamiliar and somewhat austere Cardassian architecture now under Federation and Bajoran stewardship, was undeniably present. 

What could Starfleet Command possibly want with him here, in the nerve center of Deep Space Nine, away from his ship and his Captain?

I hope it's not about Amila... but that can't be, we've only been on one date... and it would have been something that Jane handled... nope. This is something else... it has to be...

== Tag ==

[Torok Powl]

Deep Space 9 had a lot of things going for it, not all positive.  The Cardassian design left behind by the original builders and designers of the station had a perspective on life and culture that it truly took a Cardassian to appreciate.  Nevertheless, Torok was assigned to undergo a newly developed therapy that would target certain areas of knowledge previously lost to him from his...lost time.  While there will always be remnants, it was nice to know that Star Fleet, while busy with many other things, also had a vested interest in developing technologies that would continue to get him closer to life before...well...before. 

The way to the infirmary aboard Deep Space 9 was simply a walk through a bazaar.  So many species and cultures all existing together rather spitefully considering the original construction and purpose of the facility.  Deep Space 9, while originally constructed to be a stronghold for the Cardassian for the occupation of Bajor, was now an activity hub thriving of not only Bajorans, despite their losses, but of many other species from across the galaxy. 

"Computer, display path to the infirmary," Torok said.  The computer chimed, and in different tones than the typical LCARS, but nonetheless his way was illuminated. 

A proper study of the layout of the station is in order.  Unfortunately, the orders indicated that I was to report directly and hastily. 

Eventually, he found his way to the infirmary and found the doctor's office.  There did seem to be someone sitting at a desk tending to a PADD with good focus.  Torok walk to the doorway and cleared his way.  While at attention, he reported in for the new procedure.

"Ensign Powl, USS-Titania reporting.  I am expected here for a memory procedure."

[Amila Ra'an]

== Temp NRC Post, Response to Powl ==

A shorter male walked up to the Ensign wearing the starkly contrasted brown and blue colors of the Bajoran medical uniform. "Good morning, Ensign, I'll be getting you checked in this morning. If you'll follow me."

>> Promenade Thread, Location Infirmary >>

[Addison Vakir]

A timer chimed on Addison's terminal, rousing the platinum-haired Betazoid from her thoughts. Since being assigned as Fleet Captain for the Bajor Sector, she had found her days filled with essentially being the "middle-woman" between the Admiralty representatives in the area, and the Captains themselves. It was exhausting, and were it not for the regeneration alcove in her quarters, she was sure she would have long-ago collapsed. Rising from her chair, Addison absentmindedly scratched the remnants of the cranial implants that had been removed from the left side of her scalp. The ugly red scar that descended over her left eye marked where the occular implants had been removed, slightly less-than-expertly, and where her cloned left eye didn't quite match her right eye.

Just another day in the life of an xB...

Checking her appointment timetable, Addison raised an eyebrow. Ameen. Why did she remember that name? The Zephyr position, that was it. The Zephyr's command crew were in seclusion following an unauthorised jaunt across the Demilitarized Zone, and Starfleet Intelligence were allegedly grilling them. Hard. That the Cardassians hadn't demanded their extradition was a surprise to all involved, and was likely the reason for such intense attention.

Still, there was work to be done and Starfleet was loathe to have a ship hanging around. Ameen and a selection of other officers had been selected to temporarily staff the ship, the permanent disposition of which was yet to be decided.

Walking to the door to her office, Addison looked down into Ops and saw the graying Engineer-turned-First Officer waiting.

"Commander Ameen? Come with me, please?"

With an outstretched hand, Addison beckoned the man into the office where they could discuss matters privately.

[Morad Ameen]

Ameen's attention snapped towards the voice calling his name. It emanated from the Commander's Office, the very place his gaze had been drawn to moments earlier. A woman with striking platinum hair stood at the doorway, her uniform displaying the rank insignia of a Captain. Her features were sharp and professional, though marked by scarring on one side of her head that spoke of a difficult past – a past that the remnants of cranial and ocular implants clearly hinted at. 

An ex Borg... 

This office, given its prominence overlooking Ops, was clearly a significant command center. The summons had been vague, but being called directly to this office by a Captain suggested a matter of importance.

"Commander Ameen?" she repeated, her voice calm but carrying an undeniable authority. "Come with me, please?" She gestured into the office.

"Aye, Captain," Ameen replied, his tone respectful as he noted her rank. He pushed away the lingering questions about Amila and the Titania, focusing on the immediate situation. This was clearly Starfleet business of a significant nature.

He crossed the remaining distance on the upper gantry and stepped past her into the office. The door hissed closed behind him with the same solid, Cardassian finality as the turbolift, creating an immediate sense of privacy and, perhaps, consequence.

The office was functional, As he took a step further in, a nameplate on the large desk caught his eye: Fleet Captain Addison Vakir. So, that was her full designation – a position that clarified the gravity of this meeting.

Ameen stood at ease, waiting for the Captain to elaborate. His mind raced through possibilities. A new assignment? A sector-wide alert he wasn't privy to yet? The fact that she, a Fleet Captain, was personally meeting him deepened the intrigue.

Why only me... why is Captain Fields not in here...

He met her gaze, noting the slight mismatch of her eyes, a subtle reminder of her history. 

"You wished to see me, Captain Vakir?" he asked, keeping his voice steady, ready to receive whatever information was forthcoming. The unfamiliarity of Deep Space Nine, combined with the unexpected summons to a Fleet Captain he'd never met, had him on red alert.

[Addison Vakir]

Addison appraised the Commander as he passed her, the human was in his middle age, probably late forties or early fifties, and had a look about him that suggested he had worked hard for a living. Given his background as an engineer, that did not surprise Addison. No, what surprised her was that he had willingly transferred into Command. There had been Engineers-come-Captains in Starfleet history, Liam Shaw being the most recent and arguably most famous, but they were few and far between; most Engineers would rather slit their own throats (or other vital cardiovascular system) before being moved out of the engine room.

Something about the promotion obviously appealed to him.

Slipping behind the desk, Addison lowered herself stiffly into the chair, and folded her gloved hands in front of her. Coolly, she regarded the junior officer, trying to determine for herself whether or not he was fit for what came next. She knew it wasn't up to her, Starfleet had already made the decision to pull the chair out for him, but it was Addison's reports on his conduct and efficiency which would determine whether one Morad Ameen's career maintained its upward trajectory.

"Starfleet Command has granted you an extraordinary opportunity, Commander. You and several of your colleagues are being transferred to the USS Zephyr for temporary assignment. For the duration of the assignment, you will act as the Zephyr's Commanding Officer. The Zephyr was the last of the Steamrunner-class to be constructed before Utopia Planitia was destroyed, and one of the few left in service. That means the technology you will be working with is nearly two decades old."

Addison pushed a PADD across the table towards Ameen, containing his transfer orders and new assignment.

"Your orders are to ready the crew for immediate departure. Further orders will arrive once crew readiness is indicated."

Addison looked up at the older man, lips thin and pursed. The scars over her lips made smiling difficult at the best of times, but this was not yet a smiling occasion. 

"Do you have any questions?"

[Morad Ameen]

"Starfleet Command has granted you an extraordinary opportunity, Commander. You and several of your colleagues are being transferred to the USS Zephyr for temporary assignment. For the duration of the assignment, you will act as the Zephyr's Commanding Officer. The Zephyr was the last of the Steamrunner-class to be constructed before Utopia Planitia was destroyed, and one of the few left in service. That means the technology you will be working with is nearly two decades old."Vakir had said.

The words struck Ameen with the force of an unexpected micro-meteoroid shower. His mind was racing as he processed what was said.

Commanding Officer... USS Zephyr... What the what???

He felt his eyebrows rise slightly, the only outward sign of the sheer surprise that jolted through him. This was a universe away from any scenario he'd envisioned when summoned. A command? Even a temporary one? It was... significant. Yet, a fleeting thought, absurdly mundane in comparison, surfaced...

Well, at least this isn't about Amila!

A tiny wave of relief washed over him on that front, only to be immediately submerged by the immense weight of this new, sudden responsibility.

He’d always taken his duties with the utmost seriousness, and the idea of commanding a vessel, even temporarily, ignited a spark. Yet, the pragmatic engineer in him immediately began cataloging the variables.

Hmmm... a Steamrunner-class, nearly two decades old. That meant robust, perhaps less finicky systems than the newest ships, but also potentially more maintenance challenges and fewer advanced capabilities. A challenge, certainly. I like it... if she is anything like the Copernicus then I already know these systems inside and out... 

His gaze flicked down to the PADD Captain Vakir pushed across the desk. His transfer orders. His new assignment. It was all there, tangible and immediate. He reached out and took the PADD, its cool surface a stark contrast to the sudden warmth of adrenaline.

Every opportunity came with its own set of complexities... particularly extraordinary ones...

"Your orders are to ready the crew for immediate departure. Further orders will arrive once crew readiness is indicated." Addison looked up at him. "Do you have any questions?"

He met Vakir's cool, appraising gaze, the faint scars around her lips underscoring the gravity of her expression. 

Mhm... this is not a drill... no Sir... 

"Understood, Captain," Ameen stated, his voice even. He allowed himself a moment to quickly scan the top lines of the order on the PADD before looking back up, his mind already formulating the necessary inquiries.

"I do have a few questions, Ma'am," he began, his engineer's mind seeking precision. "The colleagues being transferred with me – will they be from the Titania's crew, or a pre-selected group from elsewhere?"

A new, sharper concern pricked at him as he considered who will join him.

If Ra'an’s name is on that list… commanding her after our date… that would be an entirely different kind of operational challenge. Best to know upfront... Oh dear, this will complicate things...

"Regarding the Zephyr herself," he continued as he pushed that thought away for now, "is there any available information on her current material condition, any outstanding maintenance logs or known issues I should be aware of, particularly given her age? And the status of her previous command crew?" 

He phrased the last part carefully, not prying for classified details, but needing to understand the context he was stepping into.

That's it Morad, just walk around the mine field... slowly now...

"Finally," Ameen paused, considering the logistics. "My current duties aboard the USS Titania. Will Captain Fields be briefed through official channels, or is that a communication I will need to make? And 'immediate departure' – what is the expected timeframe for 'crew readiness'?"

I should probably sound the call as soon as exit this office... if it has not already been done for me... 

He held Vakir's gaze, ready for the answers. This was a significant undertaking, and he intended to approach it with the same diligence he’d applied to every role in his Starfleet career. 

Alright, Morad. Time to get to work... The galaxy isn't gonna save itself now... 

== Tag ==