YE/D01 - Briefing Room

[Paul]

==

[Peter Jensen]

Peter was apparently the first to arrive. The recall had sounded even more urgent than usual, and the timing had been off too. He had expected slightly more time before they were thrown back into the fray. But this was apparently not to be. 
When he made his way into the briefing room, he sat down in the chair to the right of the Captain's, taking a nearby PADD, logging in, and keeping an eye on the progression of the crew recall while he waited.

[Riley Wright]

A week had passed since the last mission, and the Yeager had resumed its steady rhythm as though nothing had fractured. The corridors carried their usual mechanical hum through the deck plating, crew moved between stations with quiet purpose, and duty rosters rotated without ceremony. The ship did not dwell. It progressed.

Riley walked through it with deliberate control, shoulders squared and chin level, her stride measured and precise. At 4’11”, presence had always been something she constructed intentionally. If she did not occupy space decisively, others would do it for her without realizing it. The uniform fit because she had forced herself to grow into it long before she ever wore it, and she wore it now like armor.

Inside, she felt like she was walking toward a verdict. She had been summoned to a senior officer briefing with no explanation, and Midshipmen were not typically called into those rooms without cause. One week after a mission that had ended the way it had, she could think of only a few likely reasons.

I lost him.

The thought was sharp and unembellished, and no amount of controlled breathing erased it.

She rounded a corner and nearly passed the Science lab before registering the familiar figure standing just outside it. T’Varen held a PADD at a precise angle, posture efficient and composed, dark hair neatly arranged. Her hazel-brown eyes lifted to Riley with quiet attentiveness.

“You are walking as if anticipating resistance,” T’Varen observed evenly.

Riley slowed slightly. “I’ve been called to a senior officer briefing.”

T’Varen studied her. “And you have determined the reason.”

“It’s not usually good,” Riley replied, folding her arms loosely.

“That is assumption.”

Riley’s gaze flicked toward the lab entrance and back again. “You look comfortable over here.”

“This is my assigned department.”

“Yeah. I know.” Riley tilted her head faintly. “Still feels like a traitorous move. Security doesn’t forget its own. You defected.”

“I transferred,” T’Varen corrected calmly. “Starfleet reassigned my skills where they were assessed as most effective.”

“Science,” Riley repeated with mock suspicion. “You left me with the door-kickers.”

“I was never exclusively a door-kicker.”

“That’s exactly what a traitor would say.”

The faintest shift touched T’Varen’s eyes, subtle enough to be almost imagined.

“My department has changed,” she said. “My loyalty has not.”

Riley’s gaze dropped to the single pip at T’Varen’s collar and lingered there. “And that,” she added more quietly. “Ensign. You get promoted, switch departments, and come back outranking me.”

“Rank progression was expected.”

“I know,” Riley answered quickly. “I just missed it. Erebus gives you a pip and suddenly I’m supposed to act like I’m not mildly offended.”

“You are not required to act.”

Riley folded her arms more tightly and gave her a long look. “You realize I now have to physically look up at you and technically look up at you.”

“You were already required to look up,” T’Varen replied evenly.

Riley stared at her for a moment before exhaling faintly. “You did not just weaponize my height.”

“It was observational.”

“Traitorous and opportunistic,” Riley muttered, though the edge had softened.

The humor faded gradually, replaced by the weight behind her ribs. “They think I failed.”

“You believe you failed,” T’Varen corrected.

“We lost Tomer.”

T’Varen allowed the name to stand without dilution, without offering reflexive reassurance. “You are compressing a complex event into a singular outcome. That is emotionally efficient. It is not analytically complete.”

“It’s not a lab report.”

“No,” T’Varen agreed. “But it remains subject to distortion.”

Riley shifted her weight, tension rolling through her shoulders before she forced it back under control. “I don’t like not knowing.”

“That is unsurprising.”

She glanced toward the briefing room corridor. “You could come with me. Just stand there. Look intimidating. Or supportive. Vulcan-neutral.”

“I was not summoned,” T’Varen replied. “Senior officer briefings are not informal gatherings. If my presence were required, it would have been specified.”

“You’re an Ensign now. That practically counts.”

“It does not.”

Riley tilted her head slightly. “Fine. I’ll tell you what happens anyway.”

“If the subject matter is restricted, you will not.”

“It won’t be.”

“You cannot know that.”

Riley’s jaw set faintly. “If it were classified above my clearance, I wouldn’t have been summoned.”

“That assumption is incomplete,” T’Varen replied evenly. “You may receive instruction without access to full context.”

“You’re really determined to ruin my argument.”

“I am refining it.”

The exchange steadied her more than reassurance would have. Riley nodded once. “Thank you.”

T’Varen inclined her head. “Proceed, Riley.”

Not Midshipman. Riley noticed that, and the absence of formality grounded her more than encouragement would have.

She continued down the corridor, stride steadier but not lighter. The anxiety had not disappeared; it had simply become contained. When the briefing room doors parted at her approach, she stepped through without hesitation.

The curved conference table dominated the room, its polished surface reflecting the overhead lights. Chairs were positioned with deliberate symmetry around it, clearly assigned to senior staff by role and rank. There was no ambiguity in the seating arrangement. Commander Jensen was already present, seated to the right of the Captain’s chair, a PADD in hand as he monitored crew recall progression. His posture was composed and focused, attention directed downward at the data.

Riley registered the recall first, then the seating. This was operational. It did not resemble a private reprimand or an isolated correction. The tone of the room suggested urgency, structure, and forward movement.

And yet the question remained.

Then why am I here?

She stepped fully inside and came to a controlled stop behind the outer curve of the table rather than among it, hands settling neatly at the small of her back. Her posture remained straight and disciplined, eyes forward, expression neutral. Outwardly, she looked ready.

Inwardly, the uncertainty lingered.

If this is a recall briefing for senior staff… why summon a Midshipman?

She did not speak. She did not move. She waited to be acknowledged.

[Peter Jensen]

Peter looked up as the door opened, expecting to see the Captain. Instead seeing...Wright? He raised an eyebrow but quickly lowered it again and acknowledged her.
Her presence at a senior officer's briefing was...unusual to say the least, but surely the Captain had some reason to include her.

Truth be told, Peter had been quite impressed with her work, and saw great promise in her. Not that he was going to tell her in so many words for the time being - it was better to keep the egos of the most junior of junior officers from inflating too much.
Just the right mix of acknowledgement, positive reenforcement and praise, as well as constructive criticism was the way to go.

"Midshipman", he said with a cordial smile. "Please take your assigned seat". Then he thought he saw something on the young woman's face and raised his eyebrow again.

"Pray tell...is something the matter?", he asked. "You look like you're about to wrestle an angry Nausicaan", he said, trying to put her slightly at ease with a bit of humor. Since the meeting had not yet started, there was still time for that. He could empathize with how overwhelmed he thought she'd feel right now. If he had been called into a senior officer's briefing as a Midshipman...he would have looked much the same, he thought.

== Taggity! ==

[Riley Wright]

Riley did not immediately relax at the humor — but this time, it reached her. For half a second she pictured it clearly: an angry Nausicaan twice her height, tusks bared, tables overturned, a betting pool forming somewhere in the background. The image was absurd enough to fracture the tension she had carried into the room.

The corner of her mouth lifted before she could stop it.

“No, sir,” she replied evenly, though the rigidity had eased from her voice. “If I were about to wrestle an angry Nausicaan, I would have stretched first.”

The dryness was deliberate, but no longer brittle. It carried familiarity now — the kind that came from having already stood in crisis with this crew instead of merely reporting to them. “I’m not reckless,” she added lightly, allowing a faint trace of humor to remain.

When instructed, she moved toward her assigned seat without hesitation. She had registered its placement the moment she entered — not within the command apex, but not peripheral either. It was intentional. She pulled the chair back and sat, posture straight but no longer braced, hands resting naturally atop the table instead of locked behind her back like a cadet awaiting formal evaluation.

“I’ll admit,” she continued, tone honest rather than defensive, “being recalled into a senior officer briefing a week after our last mission left room for interpretation.”

A quiet breath followed.

“We did lose someone.”

She did not qualify it. She did not soften it. Tomer had arrived as a VIP under their protection. Whatever he had become later did not erase that fact.

I lost him.

The thought was controlled now — no longer sharp, but still present.

“I’ve replayed my decisions more than once,” she said, her voice steady and open. “So yes, I considered the possibility that I was here to answer for that.”

There was no self-pity in the admission. Only accountability.

Her gaze met Jensen’s directly, respectful but no longer guarded. “If I’m here to contribute, sir, I’m ready. And if there’s something I need to correct, I’d rather address it directly.”

The warmth remained in her expression — not flippant, not overly familiar — but genuine. She had served with this crew. She had fought beside them. She had felt the cost of that mission in a way that was no longer theoretical.

She had taken her seat not as a Midshipman awaiting judgment, but as a junior officer who had already learned that command decisions carried weight — and intended to carry it properly.

[Peter Jensen]

Peter chuckled at her reply, smiled slightly, and then nodded as she explained what she was thinking. 

"Well, the truth is that I don't know why you have been asked to join us, Midshipman", he said. "But I know for a fact, that it is not for chewing you out. I have know the Captain long enough to know this. If she has a problem with something that someone did, she will tell that person in private, unless it's a dire emergency. And certainly not dress them down in a meeting of the senior staff", he reassured her. 

He sighed.

"We did indeed lose someone". He wasn't about to comment on Tomer's qualities or lack of same. Not to a Midshipman. There was only two people onboard who he could moan to if he wanted...and he didn't really want to do it to the Captain. As for Art...he didn't want to waste what little time their schedules allowed them to have together with stuff like this unless he had no choice. 

"This happens. Space travel is dangerous.", he pointed out. "That is the risk we take as Starfleet Officers. Or...rather, the certainty. We will likely end up losing people under our command or in our care. It's going to happen at one point or another, unless, maybe, you spend your entire career hauling barges from Earth to Mars. 

Seeing as they were alone, he took a deep breath.

"I'm going to tell you a story", he said, "since we're alone. And I trust you not to tell anyone else"

Then he sighed.

"The very first away mission I led after having graduated the Academy, I lost someone.", he said. "I let myself get pressured into bringing a person on an away team who not only my gut feeling, but everything I knew about them, made my instincts scream to me not to take the. My DH "hinted" that I should bring that person anyway. So I did. I was young, freshly graduated, and trusted my superior more than myself."

Then a pause.

"And someone got killed because of that reason. Someone who trusted me to lead them."

He let that statement hang in the air for a bit.

"It nearly broke me", he said. "I was furious. I was heartbroken. But I used the pain. The experience. And learned from it. And became a better officer because of having had that experience"

Another pause.

"I will never forget that first away mission. But I have made sure that that person did not die in vain. Does that make sense?", he asked. Not in the normal way an officer says "Do you understand?". His tone is slightly softer. Not familiar by any stretch of the word, but...almost casual. He wants her to actually understand, not just parrot him.

[Arwen Qi]

It had been a busy week for Qi. First contact with the Wairara had yielded a treasure trove of cultural data. He had spent every day since walking the corridors with his face buried deep in some new biography or encyclopedia. The language was complex, and it would take weeks to update the universal translator to accommodate its finer points, but he was starting to get the hang of it.

The doors to the briefing room slid open and he found himself in the middle of a conversation between Jensen and Wright, the security midshipman who he’d seen on the Bridge during the mission.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything?” He said expectantly. He took a seat on the captain’s left side, setting his compendium of Wairara fairytales face-down on the table. He sat up more rigidly than usual, sensing an unexpected tension in the room.

== Tags ==

[Peter Jensen]

Peter turned his head as Qi entered, then gave Wright a look that said "This conversation is over" in a firm not not angry way. 

"Not at all", he answered the CSO. "Just waiting for the Captain. Midshipman Wright just told me that she was asked here too, so I wonder what, precisely Starfleet has in store for us."

He looked at Qi and asked:

"How is your department faring? Any pre-mission concerns that should be adressed before we leave base?", he asked. Not that he knew much about the sciences, of course, but part of his duties were to make sure that the ship was ready to go face whatever nonsense Command had cooked up.

[Riley Wright]

Riley listened quietly while Commander Jensen spoke, giving him the same attention she would have given any instructor back at the Academy. The story wasn’t dramatic in the way holonovels liked to make things dramatic. It was simpler than that—someone had died on his first mission. That was the part that stuck with her. Her hands rested loosely together on the table as she thought about it, fingers lightly interlaced while her mind turned the words over.

Use the pain. Learn from it.

It wasn’t comfortable, but it made sense. When Jensen finished, Riley gave a small nod. “Yes, sir. It does.” She paused briefly, choosing her words more carefully now that she was actually saying them out loud. “I think the part that sticks with you isn’t just the loss. It’s realizing there was a decision somewhere in the chain that led to it. Whether it was yours… or someone else’s.” Her gaze dropped briefly to the tabletop as the memory surfaced again. “With Tomer, I keep replaying where that line was. The moment where it stopped being something we could prevent.” She wasn’t looking for reassurance. It showed in the way she said it. Riley was trying to understand it more than anything else. “But if the point is making sure the next time goes differ—”

The doors behind them slid open.

Riley caught the movement in her peripheral vision and glanced back just as Lieutenant Commander Qi stepped into the room. The timing was almost perfect. She gave a small, amused exhale through her nose as her sentence died halfway out of her mouth.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

Riley shook her head and gave him a polite nod. “Not at all, sir.” Just like that, the moment shifted. Whatever quiet conversation had been happening between her and the First Officer folded naturally back into something more official as Jensen greeted the ship’s Chief Science Officer and asked about the readiness of the Science department.

Riley leaned back slightly in her chair while the two senior officers spoke. It wasn’t really her place to jump in now, so she simply listened. After a moment she reached down beside her chair and pulled out a PADD. The movement was casual but purposeful. She might not have expected to end up sitting in on a senior officer briefing today—but that didn’t mean she was going to waste the opportunity.

The screen flickered on, and Riley pulled up a quick notes page. Nothing fancy—just a few short lines as she listened. Science readiness. Possible environmental concerns. Things Security might get dragged into later.

If you’re in the room, pay attention.

That was one of those Academy lessons that had stuck with her. Every once in a while her eyes lifted from the PADD to the officers speaking across the table. Watching how they handled the conversation was just as useful as whatever information they were actually discussing. For a moment her stylus stopped moving and her gaze drifted toward the empty chair at the head of the table.

One day… maybe.

She wasn’t naive enough to think command was anywhere close. Not next year. Probably not even in the next decade. Still, everyone who ever sat in that chair had started somewhere. If she ever wanted to get there someday—on this ship or another—then moments like this mattered. Watching. Listening. Learning how the people already sitting at the table carried themselves.

Riley resumed jotting a few notes until the conversation between the two senior officers began to wind down. Once it sounded like there was a natural pause, she set the stylus down and let the PADD dim before looking toward Qi.

“Lieutenant Commander Qi?” Her tone was respectful, though a little more relaxed now. “I’ve actually heard your name before.” She nudged the PADD aside slightly. “My Academy partner—T’Varen—transferred to the Yeager not too long ago. She’s mentioned you a couple of times.” A small smile crept onto Riley’s face. “She had good things to say about you… or at least as close to good things as you tend to get from a Vulcan.”

Riley straightened slightly and adopted her best attempt at T’Varen’s calm, measured delivery—her voice flattening and her posture stiffening just enough to sell the impression.

“She described you as ‘consistently competent, measured in judgment, and unlikely to make reckless scientific conclusions.’”

The imitation held for exactly one beat before Riley relaxed again, a hint of amusement returning to her expression. “Which, coming from T’Varen, is basically a glowing endorsement. Although the first time she said it, I honestly couldn’t tell if she was complimenting you or issuing a formal evaluation.”

A quiet breath escaped her.

“So I figured I’d clarify that before someone misunderstood the compliment.”

== Tags ==

[Artemis d'Tor'an]

Artemis was mad. No, she was annoyed. No…

Art growled, angry with herself that she couldn’t figure out how she felt. ‘Frustrated’ didn’t quite cover it. They –she– had lost “Mister” Tomer, physically lost him!, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it but go back to her job.

Whoever she passed in the corridor gave her a wide berth; Art merely narrowed her eyes and continued to the briefing that was due to start in a few minutes.

Though she knew she should look and act professional, it was obvious she was still mad as she stalked through the doors and into her chair. She did not greet anyone, did not make eye contact, just wrangled the chair as if it owed her money, and then sat in it, steaming.

Peter was here. He’d most likely confront her about her attitude after the meeting. The Captain’s chair was currently empty. Braggins would likely confront her about her attitude during the meeting. Her newest and brightest Midshipman was here– she’d probably avoid Art at all costs, for fear of being eaten.

With a frustrated sigh, Art got up from her chair and lightly stomped over to the food replicator. “Mint mocha latte.” She grumbled at it, her mood improving slightly as she wrapped her hand around the cup.

Sitting back in her chair and taking a sip of the delicious drink, Art’s shoulders relaxed. She was still upset with herself, but now at least she had a comfort drink.


==Who wants to poke the bear?==

[Riley Wright]

Riley had just finished speaking when the briefing room doors opened again.

The shift in the room was immediate.

Chief d’Tor’an entered like a storm front.

Riley straightened slightly in her chair the moment she recognized the familiar figure. Art didn’t acknowledge anyone as she crossed the room, her focus fixed ahead with the kind of intensity that made most people instinctively give her space. The chair scraped loudly when she pulled it back from the table, and Riley watched her settle into it with the restrained force of someone holding far more emotion than the room could comfortably contain.

Riley didn’t stare, but she noticed.

Security training had taught her long ago how to observe without making it obvious. Her attention tracked the Chief only briefly before returning to the PADD near her hands.

Still…

She knows.

The loss of Tomer had shaken the ship.

It had shaken Riley more than she had expected it would.

After all, she had been the one Captain Braggins had ordered to escort him to the Bridge. At the time it had seemed like a routine task—something any security officer might do without a second thought. Instead it had become the first moment since joining Starfleet where Riley truly felt like she had failed.

For a while there, she had nearly fallen apart over it.

Her fingers shifted slightly against the tabletop as the memory resurfaced. What had pulled her back from that spiral hadn’t been a speech from a superior officer or some polished lesson about duty.

It had been T’Varen.

Her friend had arrived on the Yeager at exactly the right time—steady, quiet, and completely unwilling to let Riley bury herself in guilt. T’Varen hadn’t tried to soften the truth of what had happened. Vulcans rarely did.

Instead she had reminded Riley of the one thing that actually mattered.

You learn. You adjust. You move forward.

Riley inhaled slowly and let the breath out again as Art rose from her chair and crossed toward the replicator.

“Mint mocha latte.”

The drink materialized, and Riley allowed the faintest hint of a smile to tug at the corner of her mouth before she looked back down at the PADD.

Comfort drink.

She understood the concept.

When Art returned to the table, Riley lifted her eyes again briefly. The tension in the Chief’s posture hadn’t vanished, but the sharpest edge of it had softened slightly.

Their eyes met for only a moment.

Riley didn’t say anything.

It wasn’t her place to.

But the look she gave her department head was steady and calm, her expression softening just enough to carry the message without a single word.

I understand.

After a second, Riley inclined her head the barest fraction before letting her attention drift back toward the center of the table.

The Captain still hadn’t arrived, which meant the briefing hadn’t technically begun yet. Until then Riley settled back into quiet attentiveness, posture composed, gaze occasionally moving between the officers gathered around the table.

Listening.

Watching.

And doing what every junior officer eventually learned to do in a room full of senior staff.

Staying aware of the emotional weather.

[Arwen Qi]

“Systems are back in working order, sir. We finished calibrating the repaired sensors last night,” he said, easing back into his seat. He knew what Jensen would want to hear first. “I had hoped to have more time with the Wairara linguistic and cultural data before handing it off to the USS Danielewski, but my loss is their gain. However, I have translated a few of their novels if you’d like some recommendations. They’re not exactly relaxing, but if you like a bit of action in your literature then you might appreciate them.”

Wright spoke next. Her subtle Tycho City accent gave way to a surprisingly accurate impression of her Vulcan friend. It seemed that the two of them had spent quite a bit of time together.

Qi’s eyes glimmered. He was surprised to hear that T’Varen thought so positively of him. Some officers, particularly transfers from other departments, struggled to adapt to his style of working. Many were too committed to the straight march of Starfleet efficiency, and lost sight of the joy in turning over the stones that lined the path. It seemed that T’Varen was able to recognize his positive qualities as a scientist, despite what he suspected to be significant differences in philosophy. He admired that quality.

“You have good taste in friends! Her work so far has been very thorough. I can tell that she’s very comfortable with complex systems.” Qi replied. He knew that anything he said was likely to make its way back to T’Varen, so he made sure to include language that she would appreciate.

d’Tor’an arrived next. The temperature in the room seemed to rise, fueled by her sustained anger. Qi wondered how much longer this would go on, but he certainly didn’t dare to approach her while she was in this state. He waited for someone to diffuse the tension.

== Tags! ==

[Kal-Geal Beinn]

Fortunately, someone from among the officers arrived to defuse Art, and in this case, it was Lieutenant Beinn who showed up. The Child of San-Tarah wasn't too concerned with the fate of Mr. Tomer, mostly because he accepted some things were not meant to be know at the current time, and that there were more tangible things worth his wrath than failure.

He sat down right next to Art as he noticed her rage building despite her comfort drinks. His ears folded back as he turned to stare at her directly and said in Klingon,

"Lieutenant. If you're going to stay angry, get angry at the lack of live gagh in the galley. Staying angry at yesterday's gagh doesn't help you win battles. I'd suggest petting the targ, but as we don't have one, you look like you need a battle instead."

He swapped back to galactic standard, realizing most of the room might not know if he was egging Art on or trying to calm her.

"After the briefing, next shift downtime, I prescribe an honorable battle in the holodeck. Anger has no purpose without a worthy foe to exhaust it upon. That is assuming Dr. Cassidy agrees with me."

He kept his eyes locked on Art, the wolf in the San-Tarah trying to break her attention, though he didn't yip at her. Insults in his native tongue weren't necessary, and he didn't need Qi integrating swear words in San-Tarah into their vocabulary.

==tag Art and others==

[Pax Cassidy]

Cassidy’s face hurt from smiling. He caught himself humming while he sterilized his medical equipment. He had forgotten what it was like to be in such a good mood.

The only trouble was, he hadn’t yet told anybody why. His staff seemed to have suspicions, based on the hushed chatter he often heard from the nurse’s station, but they always clammed up as soon as they saw him coming.

The Briefing Room was nearly full already as he entered. Only Jadaris and the captain herself seemed to be missing. He bit the inside of his cheek, realizing that he was smiling again. That was dangerous. He locked eyes with d’Tor’an, who seemed to be radiating anger with her hand wrapped around a sweet-smelling coffee. Cassidy ordered a Tarkalean tea, extra sweet, and took a seat next to her. From this distance, he could almost feel her bristling.

“I’ve been trying to find you, Lieutenant,” he said quietly. He didn’t want to draw the attention of the whole room. “Did Nurse Manx remember to schedule a follow-up appointment with you? You’re due for another treatment with the dermal regenerator.”

Cassidy braced himself, not quite sure how the Chief of Security would react. He felt a type of closeness to her. After all, they’d both made the questionable decision to charge into a plasma fire in hopes of saving two officers. He hoped that bond would grant him a bit of leeway now.

Beinn had another approach, daring Artemis to an honorable battle on the holodeck. Cassidy gave a bemused smirk, somewhere between a smile and a grimace. He would never understand Klingon medicine. Still, he would defer to Beinn's judgment in this matter.

"There's a mountain of research to support the therapeutic value of the holodeck," he said, shrugging. "With the safeties on, of course."

== Tag d’Tor’an and Beinn/all ==

[Jadaris]

Behind the wolf was a much bigger officer, dressed in an engineer's duty uniform. Jadaris entered, having been inspecting the repairs and refits to the engines, though he seemed to be in good spirits. He had spent several days with a Hysperian crew, and a day with DTI, and the latter was almost as fun to deal with. An invitation to visit Hysperia had been extended, though Jadaris suspected it was due to looking like a humanoid drake. But, he got to spend some time with the Hysperian crew's pet dragon, and left Jadaris wanting to get a dragon egg for himself at some point. He still had to talk with Star Fleet on getting a replicated humanoid meat sack for lack of a better term, so that he could have a child of his own. Raising said child would be a logistical nightmare due to the feral nature of Gorn children in their first few months. but discussions with Star Fleet Medical were turning out good so far.

Jadaris sat down at the only chair sized for him at the table, his claws tapping on a padd that contained old calculations that he was still working on. A closer look wouldn't reveal anything except crystalline decomposition rates, and probably for the best as he wasn't on the synthetic benamite team anymore, and was pretty sure said team had gotten shut down.

"I think the Department of Temporal Investigations was satisfied with my report, but at least I got some assurance they'd try to track down the old primary hull of the Yeager's engine section to see if my hypothesis about Tomer was correct."

==tag==

[Artemis d'Tor'an]

A familiar, hulking, white-furred individual sat down directly next to Art. She moved her eyes to that side to confirm it was who she thought it was, and moved only to adjust her death-grip on her cup. He gave her a moment before he spoke. It was in Klingon, which already put Art more at ease. As she had thought to herself before, it was nice to have someone on board whose base language was the same as her own.

"Lieutenant.” Again, she did not move but her eyeballs to look at him. “If you're going to stay angry, get angry at the lack of live gagh in the galley. Staying angry at yesterday's gagh doesn't help you win battles. I'd suggest petting the targ, but as we don't have one, you look like you need a battle instead."

Artemis grunted. It was the Klingon version of a Human guffaw.

Then came the English, the words the Child of San-Tarah knew everyone in the room would understand. "After the briefing, next shift downtime, I prescribe an honorable battle in the holodeck. Anger has no
purpose without a worthy foe to exhaust it upon. That is assuming Dr. Cassidy agrees with me." The Chief Medical Officer had sat down on the other side of her, thereby flanking her with doctors.

This time, the grunt was more “hmphh” than “hah”.

“You coming with me?” She asked in Klingon, finally turning her head to actually honor him with her full attention. It was almost a quip. She hated admitting when she was wrong, but Beinn had a solid point. There was nothing productive about stewing in her anger. It was better to take that energy out on something, if only to release the tension in her body, which was in turn only fueling the disappointment in her mind.

“I’ve been trying to find you, Lieutenant,” the CMO said, albeit quietly, not so the whole room could hear, “Did Nurse Manx remember to schedule a follow-up appointment with you? You’re due for another
treatment with the dermal regenerator.”

Art’s response to this query was something between a sigh and a grumble. She wasn’t being flanked by two medical professionals, she was being cornered by two mother hens.

The Chief doctor added, “There's a mountain of research to support the therapeutic value of the holodeck. With the safeties on, of course."

Well, he was no fun at all.

Desperately, Artie wanted to stand up and move her seat. Of course, the last officer, their hulking reptilian-humanoid, had just taken the last available seat. Instead, she glared at the empty chair that was to be the Captain’s. While doing so, she also gave a hard look to the person sitting directly next to where Braggins should be, a look that may have been a pleading “get me out of here” to her mate, Peter Jensen.

“I’ll go!” She said, barely able to keep the exasperation out of her voice. Whether she meant to the Sickbay or to the Holodeck, she did not clarify. She brought her cup up to her mouth, though she did not drink the liquid inside. It took some restraint to put the cup back down without slamming it on the table.

Luckily for her, the officer who had “taken her seat” had something both relateable and productive to her stormy thoughts.

"I think the Department of Temporal Investigations was satisfied with my report,” Jadaris said, “but at least I got some assurance they'd try to track down the old primary hull of the Yeager's engine section to see if my hypothesis about Tomer was correct."

Her gaze went immediately to boring a hole in Braggins’ chair to rapt attention on the Gorn.

“Do tell.” She replied to him, her tone now eager. She had no idea what the cursed DTI had to do with Tomer, but she was now latched on to Jadaris’ every word.


==Tags!==

[Flint Chertstone]

>> Ancillary Location >>

The doors parted as Flint approached. He had no idea why he'd been sent for. He briefly paused just before he entered as he counted the heads already present.

All departments were represented. Medical and Science. Engineering and Security. Commander Jensen sat at the head of the table, but here was no sign of anyone from Tactical.

I just fly the ship. Why the hell do they want me here? He wondered to himself as he steeled himself and took up a standing position against the wall, giving small nods and smiles to anyone who turned to see him enter.

[Jadaris]

“Do tell.”

Jadaris looked at Art and replied,

"Remember when we thought we had an infestation of Jem'Hadar and had transformed into different species during the race? I believe that was the result of chronitons moving time through the ship, rather than the ship through time. Everything but the engine section of the ship was once part of a Pathfinder class, which is a refit of the Intrepid-class. Mr. Tomer I believe was still hiding in the stardrive section behind Engineering, which was part of the previous Yeager, NCC-65674, and that Yeager's stardrive was designed off of a Ju'day-class. It is likely Mr. Tomer would have found himself on a Ju'Day class, and had he remained in place, reappeared with the rest of us in the present timeline. If he had moved out of that section, it is likely he ended up on a Ju'day-class primary hull, or even the previous Yeager's primary hull, once the chronitons present inside of him snapped his body back to his original timeline. It just depends where the hull materials on the section he was in came from, as to where and when he got sent to."

Jadaris shrugged and added,

"DTI asked me to let them do their job to track the timeline disturbances created by the Wairara anomaly, so I haven't run any simulations as to where Mr. Tomer might have landed in the chroniton stream. I enjoyed the temporal mechanics classes back at the Academy though, so I can do the timestream calculations if someone's curious."

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[Jennifer Braggins]

The doors hissed open and Jenny strode in, thunderous expression on her face, muttering barely-audible curses targeted at Cardassians, politicians, and people with gold braid on their uniforms. She did not take her seat when she arrived, instead simply plugging her PADD into the terminal and activating the holoprojector. As the lights dimmed, the projector displayed a starmap showing the border region of Federation and Talarian space, the latter having a note underneath stating that it remained under Cardassian occupation. The map automatically zoomed in to a specific area along the border, upon which a blue marker appeared labelled "Starbase 214" - the very base the Yeager had departed when embarking on her journey to the Wairara system.

"Last night, Starfleet Command received a priority one distress signal from Starbase 214. The report was garbled by local jamming, but reports that a Cardassian fleet has effectively blockaded the system."

Jenny took a moment to let that sink in; blockading a system was an act of war against the inhabitants of that system or the star nation or empire it belonged to. Blockading a military and humanitarian outpost like a Starbase just added yet another layer of sabre-rattling.

"This morning, the Cardassian Ambassador delivered a communique that stated that the Cardassian ships are there to prevent, and I quote, 'the free movement of Talarian terrorists across the border and the continued supply of weapons and equipment provided by the Federation.' While I can't discuss Starfleet's support of the Talarian Resistance, it would appear that once again the Cardassian Union is blaming us for not being able to keep its own territories in line - we saw it thirty years ago with the Maquis in the Demilitarised Zone, and now we're seeing it in occupied Talarian space."

Pulling her PADD from the terminal, the holoprojection faded and the lights returned to a normal brightness.

"Starfleet Command has issued a warning to all vessels in the area to be aware of potential Cardassian activity in the area, but to take no action except in self defence. The Federation Council is desperate to avoid another shooting incident with the Cardassians, and so far the Cardassians themselves appear content to sit in a blockade formation and wait. That said, we can't assume they're going to continue to wait around - Starbase 214 isn't on a main shipping lane, but it's close enough that those ships are a direct threat to commercial traffic, and taking a few merchantmen would be a fantastic way to pressure the Federation into turning over any Talarians on the station; Resistance members or not."

Pulling out her chair for the first time, Jenny slowly slid into her seat and rested her arms on the table.

"I want to take the Yeager into sensor range of the system and get a good look at those ships and their deployment. If Starfleet decides to send a relief force or someone decides to stage a breakout, that reconnaissance data will be vital. Arwen, Jadaris, I want proposals for how to increase our sensor range and sensitivity while also minimising our own sensor profile. Peter, Artemis, I want the Security teams drilling for potential boarding actions - offensive and defensive. Pax, I want a complete inventory of medical supplies; if someone tries to run that blockade they're going to need medical attention if they make it out the other side."

Jenny's face curled into something resembling distaste as if she had a bad taste in her mouth, indicating that she was about to say something she really did not want to.

"Flint...I want you to try and track down the Disreputable Damsel. If she's still in the area, it's possible that our old friend Obadiah has information we might not have access to."

Sitting back in her chair slightly, Jenny looked between her officers, including two who still needed promoting but who Jenny simply hadn't found the time to arrange yet.

"Questions?"

[T'Lari]

The time T'Lari had spent on Vulcan had helped her to recenter herself, but there was only so much she could take of her people's stoicism. It all seemed so easy for them to maintain their focus. And the more time she spent there the more she considered herself a failure. She'd always been more comfortable among the emotional races. It was an an odd contradiction.

So it was good to be back on the Yeager even if the ship was being sent into what was another potential conflict with the Cardassians. As the Captain gave the briefing her feelings were apparent. Sending the Yeager and its rather... direct... Captain seemed logical as a show of force, but it was certainly unlikely to defuse the situation. If the Federation Council wanted to avoid a shooting incident then Jennifer Braggins was perhaps not the best choice. It was therefore best to assume that trouble was coming; they expected an escalation, even if they didn't outright say so. As the human writer Will Rogers had once said, "Diplomacy is the art of saying 'Nice doggie' until you can find a rock."

She sat back in her chair slightly. She didn't have any questions at this time, and indicated it with a shake of her head. The Yeager's defensive systems were ready to go, and so was T'lari.

[Peter Jensen]

Peter accepted Qi's report with satisfaction, and then raised an eyebrow - but smiled slightly as well - at the recommendation about literature from the database that had been salvaged before having to hand it off. 

"Could be interesting", he said honestly. "I've always found that a culture's literature gives a fascinating insight into its life, its preconceptions, and assumptions"

Everyone else started to arrive, and of course he noticed one person in particular. Art. And yes, he noticed her mood. One might as well try to not notice a tornado when it was rampaging through your living room, as ignore her when she was upset. He was definitely going to talk to her afterwards, but one thing he was not going to do, was reprimand her, not even in private. 

Because he wanted to live. 

Instead he gave her a slightly concerned and sympathetic look, that also included a questionmark - the unspoken question being "Are you okay?". 

There was not a lot of time to ponder this, however, before the Captain arrived....and told them their mission.

Crap. Here we go again.

Part of him was not surprised at all. It was indeed something the Cardassians would do. And the incessant waiting and kittyfooting was definitely something the Federation Council would do. Rather than a show of force that should make the Cardassians back off - they were not suicidal and could afford an actual shooting war even less than the Federation could - Command decided to send one ship to observe. It made him angry, but he couldn't show it. Instead he just took notes of the duties the Captain assigned the various departments, to be able to follow up on their progress later. 

== The Cardassian Union being hostile? Why, who'd have thunk it!  Tag, everyone ==

[Flint Chertstone]

Stood against the wall, the atmosphere of the room filled with the senior staff was as trepidatious as he expected. Having been to multiple shift briefings in his time, he was both surprised and relieved that the overall feel of this meeting was almost the same. Though his reason for being here was still at a loss to him.

Then the Captain entered and everyone fell silent as she spoke detailing the information she had.

Each of the DH's were given tasks suited to their expertise. When she began talking about bringing the Yeager back to the Talarian system, Flint thought that was his task, but it wasn't.

Her face already full of thunder, Braggins locked eyes with Chertstone after a beat, she continued speaking.

"Flint...I want you to try and track down the Disreputable Damsel. If she's still in the area, it's possible that our old friend Obadiah has information we might not have access to."

Flint now nodded his understanding. He recalled they had encountered the person of interest on a previous tour, but he had had no contact with them before, but he knew who had.

Glancing over at the Commander, Flint made a mental note to speak with Commander Jensen as soon as possible once this meeting was over as he would have been the one to have lead the boarding party on that occasion.

[Artemis d'Tor'an]

Art listened attentively as Jadaris explained his theory of connections between the First Contact/Race, the time slippage, and attempted to follow his thinking, though she could feel a headache coming on because of it. What it boiled down to, she thought she understood, was that the current running theory was that Tomer the Troublemaking Trill had been whisked away to the past. She did feel satisfaction in the comiseration that Tomer was still alive, it was just a matter of where -or rather, when- he was. Art then ground her teeth as she realized that if he was indeed in the past, he could cause a shit-ton more of trouble.

“I could help…” she said cautiously, “but I’m not sure how much help I would be.” That was a pathetic, useless statement, and she tried not to look crestfallen. She thought for a moment. “It certainly sounds intriuging, if not headache-inducing.”

At long last, their Captain walked into the room. She looked as furious as Art had felt when she walked in, so she understood already what direction this meeting was going to take: a fierce one.

Braggins dimmed the lights and brought up a 3D star chart, one which focused on the border of Talarian territory. After a brief moment, the map zoomed in on Starbase 214. Braggins spoke, her tone no-nonsense and her words concerning. Art sat straighter in her chair at the news; Cardassians blockading the system? Especially one with a Starbase right there? That was definitely something tangiable Art could investigate. The excuse was to guard against Talarian terrorists, and Art furrowed her brow as she tried to remember facts about the Talarian people.

And then they got their orders: reconniassance (and preparation for an almost-surefire battle). The order for drilling was almost unnecessary; Art was already planning on which ones they would be running. She also made a note to look into the “Disreputable Damsel”. When she looked up, she realized that no one was going to ask questions, even the obvious question. Was it too obvious to even ask? Art almost felt as if it had to be said anyway. She attempted to phrase it in a way that did not suggest she was eager to go test out the ship’s newest repairs.

“What are the parameters of engagement?” Well, that sounded awful. It didn’t even sound like the Klingon at all. “I mean…” There was a pregnant pause as Art tried to find the words that would make her sound less academic and more… herself. “Where do we draw the line?”

It was a slippery slope, dealing with Cardassians. They operated in the sense of ticks; that is, one small infraction after another, until you realize the wool’s been pulled over your eyes and your hands are bound. An ancient Earth culture had a saying that Art thought went along nicely with the Cardassians: “death by a thousand paper cuts”.


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