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Mission 1 - Slow News Day

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Galan tr'Delatham
Virkov
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Post  Virkov Tue May 08, 2012 12:13 pm

USS Rhode Island, Captain's Ready Room
January 11th, 2387
0900 HRS


"Ma'am? Commander Holmes?"

Autumn looked back from her window to face her yeoman, Cadet Windsor. He was holding a PADD just below his face, and had a quizzical expression on her face. She smiled, rubbed her eyes, and took a sip from the mug of hot tea sitting at her desk.

"I'm sorry Cadet, I'm not all here yet this morning. You were saying?"

"Yes ma'am. I've got the shift rotations from Operations here, they just need your final approval. I took a cursory glance at them, and they seem to be in order," he responded.

She took the PADD from him, looking briefly over the information before handing it back.

"I've never much cared for the routine day to day stuff that can be handled by other departments, Aleks. I've never micro-managed a crew before, and I don't intend to start now. I'm sure Centurion tr'Deletham has everything managed in his department. Do you have anything else for me?" she asked.

"Not at the moment ma'am. Lieutenant Retol says we'll be ready to be underway within the hour, which means we'll keep to our 12:00 departure time from Betazed. We're receiving the last of everyone's cargo and personal effects now, and that should be done within the next half hour," Windsor said through a polite smile.

Autumn took another sip of her tea, and said "I see. What's the general feeling among the crew?"

"Uh...everyone's pretty excited, ma'am. They're all looking forward to getting some stars pushed past the windows," he grinned.

"Good!" Autumn said, with a light chuckle. "I'm glad to hear that. I've got a few higher level things to take care of today Aleks, so I probably won't have much for you. I'd like you to spend the day familiarizing yourself with the ship and meeting with the senior staff. If you're going to be my adjutant to them, they'll need to know they can trust you as much as I do. They'll need to understand that you're my voice on the ship when otherwise occupied."

"Yes ma'am," he nodded. "Will that be all then?"

"That's all," Autumn said. "You're dismissed."

She watched as he stood, gathered his PADDs, and left her ready room. With a smile, she tapped her commbadge, and said "Commander Holmes to Ashshy. Eiri, I think you and I need to have a chat. Schedule me in for 1300 hours, after we get underway. Holmes out."

::OFF::
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Post  Galan tr'Delatham Sat May 12, 2012 11:39 pm

USS Rhode Island, Galan's Quarters
January 11th, 2387
0511 HRS


Once again, Galan found himself staring out into an endless pane of darkness. But, this time, he wasn't sure if he was awake or dreaming. Besides the sound of his own breath and beat of his heart, the world around him was as quiet as a grave. He realized after a few heartbeats that he was not standing upon a surface, nor did he have any feet or physical form at all.

I must be dreaming, he rationalized.

As Galan attempted to wake himself somehow, he heard a rush of air which was swiftly accompanied by white light and an uncomfortable prickling sensation. The light folded open like a door, and through the doorway Galan was able to make out two Romulan figures sitting in chairs parallel to each other, separated by a large desk, surmounted by padd's and gardening tools.

It took the centurion no more than a single heartbeat to figure out that it was himself sitting in one chair, at least a dream version of himself, and his uncle's — senator Kaol's — gardener in the other chair. A gardener who had a second job as his uncles not-so-secret spy and body guard. The man kept a keen eye on family members and friends who were close to the senator to make sure they weren't up to no good. Sometimes, Galan wondered if the gardener had a third job as a real life scarecrow; he was thin, sickly looking, wrinkled by old age, though somehow maintained an overall intimidating raptor like appearance which could ward off even the most bravest of assassins... or women.

"Forgive me, Galan. My men were only suppose to use enough force to bring you here in a timely manner," said the gardener, who's tone even through his eyes was uncaring.

The dream version of Galan laughed, though his expression remained stoic.“If you wanted to have a cup of tea with me so badly, H'daean, you could of just asked. Sending chauffeurs comes across as a little pretentious and desperate.”

H'daean sighed, a look of irritation etched into his wrinkled old face. “There's no time to trade thinly veiled insults and threats so I'm going to be straight forward with you: I know all about your relationship with Sela t'Lhaihtrha. It's ends now. You should of known better than to get involved with her, our houses have yet to find a common ground.”

If the centurion was not so sore from H'daean's thugs jumping him, he would have put more effort into concealing his shock. “I'm...I'm a little confused as to why my relationship is suddenly a problem. Didn't my uncle approve it? If you haven't heard I've managed to get a substantial amount of valuable information on the Lhaihtrha's.”

“You insult me by playing innocent,” H'daean hissed, his voice lowering to scarcely above a whisper. “We both know your relationship has become much more personal than that. She could be using you like the dha'rudh you are. You let your emotions get in the way of things, and as I said, it's over. You'll be reassigned soon and expected to cease all contact with her.”

“I assure you, I am completely loyal to Kaol!”

“Your assurances are unnecessary and not exactly worth anything at the moment. All we need from you now is obedience.”

Dream Galan's mouth opened but it didn't emit any sound as he let everything sink in. He straightened out in his chair once he was ready to speak, and instead of getting defensive he replied in a uncharacteristically somber tone. “Yes, sir.”

"Very good. Thei'khaiell ssuin hw'aenevha, " H'daean said as he stood up and gave a Romulan salute.

Following suit, dream Galan stood and saluted. "Thei'khaiell ssuin hw'aenevha."

At the end of their conversation the white light engulfed the two men, then Galan began to slowly realize he had a body that he could move again. His silver eyes flicked open and scanned the room only to find that he had fallen asleep on his chair at his table. Apparently, he had nodded off while shining one of his tea sets.

Despite his dream, he was well rested and unfazed. Since he was awake, he decided to get to work early today. There was lots to do on the little Federation ship that was now his home.
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Post  Virkov Mon May 21, 2012 11:23 am

Bridge, USS Rhode Island
January 11, 2387, 1200 hrs


Autumn turned her head to do a sweeping view of the tidy bridge of the USS Rhode Island. The pertinent senior staff were all at their stations, and she could see Lieutenant Retol anxiously gripping the helm console in anticipation. She smiled at this, and nodded politely at the Romulan at the Ops console, before fixing her gaze directly onto the viewscreen.

"I suppose now's as good a time as any. Let's go around the horn."

She pressed a few panels on the console between her and Shras. A loud boatswain's whistle sounded throughout the ship.

"Attention all hands: This is Commander Darby-Holmes. In a few moments we will be departing Betazed and the safety of the Federation's core, on our way to the Gavarian Corridor and from there the Frontier. I don't have to tell any of you how treacherous the area is, you've all been made aware or already know. I expect you to perform admirably, to the best of your abilities, and to support one another on the long trip ahead to Deep Space 10 at the mouth of the corridor. All departments, report in with ready status. Darby-Holmes out."

She looked down at her console as yellow standby lights turned to green for all departments. She nodded, and said "Very good. Helm, set course and speed. Deep Space 10, Warp 7. Take us out."

"Deep Space 10, Warp 7, Aye," Ayan called, finally letting his hands flow across the console. The ship banked down and to the right as it broke free of Betazed's gravity. He spared a brief moment to watch as the planet faded from view, smiling at the memory of his wedding and brief honeymoon. Now he had a second planet to call home.

Ayan entered the final command and the ship leaped forward into warp. "Warp 7, Commander. On course and on time with expected mission arrival," he said, proud of the little ship.

She stood from her seat, and began to snap out orders. "Science, keep long range scanners on passive. Despite us making a bee-line, we do need to maintain an eye out for anything unusual. Ops, let's see if we can't get some more efficiency on the auxiliary systems like the medial and lateral sensor arrays. Security, let's get some training drills scheduled for tactics against Romulan and Cardassian boarders and ground troops. I'm certain Centurion tr'Deletham will lend his expertise on the former."

She turned to Shras, and said "Shras, you have the bridge for the time being. I've got an appointment to keep."

Shras nodded and stood. "Aye, sir," he replied, taking up the center seat.

Centurion tr'Delatham smirked, almost as if he approved of the captain's comment towards him. Though he only found humor in the way she had worded it, and decided to remain quiet until a security officer approached him. He began to get to work on the sensor arrays, pressing large and colorful buttons that reminded him of the gooey insides of exotically flavored Romulan Osol Twist tarts. After a moment his focus faltered as he imagined the buttons sticking to his fingers. He paused and rubbed his eyes to refocus himself, then got back to work.

Garrett’s eyes sparkled as the Rhode Island accelerated through warp factors, thin white starlines drifting past on the otherwise impenetrable black of the viewscreen. Experiencing nature and its grandeur never failed to enrapture him as nothing else could, but the thrill of casting off the hawsers and plying the heavens anew was still no small pleasure. His hands fluttered across his console, applying a balance between long-reaching sensor range and resolution. If anyone or anything interesting entered a very large expanse of the void surrounding the ship, he’d be the first to notice it, and he dared not miss the opportunity. Then again, interesting phenomena and life forms were all around him on the bridge, as well. He cast his eyes around, observing his crewmates. In front of him sat the imperturbable Andorian XO, the towering Bajoran helmsman (height made no less imposing by his seated position)… and the Romulan operations officer. Tr’Delatham was proving thus far to be an imposing, intriguing enigma, and not only due to his species. It’ll be an interesting time, bargaining with him for sensor resources and whatnot, Garrett thought.

JP brought to you by your friendly lovable bridge crew
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Post  Galan tr'Delatham Mon May 21, 2012 8:43 pm

Ready Room, USS Rhode Island
January 11, 2387, 1600 hrs


Autumn sat across her desk looking at the Romulan Centurion she'd accepted as her Chief of Operations, worrying her hand across her mug of tea. She did her best to hide the emotions running rampant in her mind, and briefly wondered whether he was able to detect them anyway, before letting the thought wash over her like a wave.

Looking directly up at him, she said "I have...some unfortunate news. It's...god...this is the worst news I think I've ever had to deliver, and I'm truly unfathomably sorry that you have to hear it from someone who's no better than a stranger to you. So please just let me say it, and we can move on from there."

She took a swig of her tea, and said "I've just received a priority alert from Starfleet. Hobus has gone supernova. The subspace shockwave has destroyed everything in a very large radius, including Romulus and Remus. I don't know the extent of the casualties, nor do I know the state of the Romulan Star Empire. Everything is...in a state of chaos right now, and I'm hearing all kinds of things. We've been redeployed to render as much assistance as we can, and as soon as we're done here, I'm going to head to the bridge and make an announcement to the rest of the crew. I just thought...that you should be the first to know."

The Romulan's face went blank with shock as he absorbed the information. He made every effort not to feel anything once it processed, to distance himself from all but unbearable emotion, but he was unable to stem it. Anger replaced shock, frustration drowned out logic, and so he lashed out at the only other person in the room.

"HA! HAHA! You act like you care, putting on a mask of infuriating Federation morality that you think makes you so great, 'captain'." His eyes darkened with rage. "But I know under that mask you're smiling because your enemy just took a deadly blow. As for this assistance you're offering...I'm sure the Federation sees this as a perfect chance to move in and attempt to assimilate any survivors. To deal the final blow to the Empire!" Galan lowered his head and immediately regretted what he said. It had come out like word vomit.

Autumn blinked in shock at the emotional outlash. With the tone of a mother consoling a wounded child, she responded "If that's truly what you think of the Federation, then perhaps this exchange program was a very bad idea in the first place. All that we have ever wanted is peace between the Empire and the Federation, friendship and collaboration. We want nothing of assimilation. That is the realm of the Borg."

She laid her hands flat on her desk, and said "This is going to be a trying time. For everyone. I can't possibly fathom what's going through your head at the moment. I can't possibly hope to understand the emotions that are raging within you bubbling up over the surface. What I can imagine is this: you are an officer aboard a United Federation of Planets Starship, and we take care of our own, Centurion. My offer for assistance, of any kind, is genuine. You may take it at face value, or believe that I have some ulterior motive as you desire. The choice is yours. Tell me what you want."

Galan winced at the captains answer. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said any of that. I want to think your assistance is genuine. It is probably crucial to my people right now. But, captain, I don't think every Romulan survivor you encounter will accept your help with opens arms. I'm sure you're aware of that though," he said, trying to take hold of himself and make his affect as calm as possible.

"Trust me," she began, "I have no illusions that the citizens of the Empire will immediately flock to us with open arms, trusting in the help we're offering. I know that as a general rule, you are a secretive and secluded people. However, there is a part of me that hopes that the Senate and Government of the Empire will at least not interfere with any attempts by civilians to seek out aid from those who would openly offer it. It's a slim hope, but I'm an optimist."

She stood, returning her now empty mug of tea to the replicator, and watched for a moment as the swirling white energy reclaimed it.

"I have no hopes of glory, honor and valor, Centurion. I'm not a member of Starfleet to make a name for myself. I swore an oath to first do no harm, and that is what I intend to do. I intend to deliver as much help to as many as I possibly can. I expect you to assist me in that goal, no more no less. Now...do you want to make the announcement, or would you like me to? It might have more...poignancy if it comes from you."

The centurion's gaze rose and fixed upon the captain's. He wondered if she'd prove to be as trustworthy as she seemed. Luckily for him, if she didn't, she wouldn't be able to lower his opinion of Starfleet officers much more than it already was. However, that was not the thought at the forefront of his mind.

After several seconds of thought, Galan replied, "Yes...I think I'd like to make the announcement." He paused again. "Captain, will you keep me informed if you hear any more news about the Empire?"

She nodded emphatically and said "Of course. Any news I have I'll get to you as soon as I hear it, you have my word."

(JP brought to you by Galan tr'Delatham and ma'am-sir-foxy lady captain aka Autumn Darby-Holmes)
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Post  Galan tr'Delatham Mon Jun 04, 2012 10:32 pm

USS Rhode Island, Bridge
January 11, 2387
1620 HRS


Standing uneasily, Galan was not entirely sure why he had agreed to make the announcement. His fingers hovered just above a console, ready but hesitant to hail the alien crew. Ultimately, he convinced himself that he had no choice but to go through with the announcement now. In a quick blur, he pressed a few panels, setting off the familiar whistle throughout the ship.

Galan's jaw hardened. "Attention all hands. This is Centurion tr'Delatham. I've been asked to relay some news. Hobus star has exploded in a supernova, and it's subspace shockwave destroyed my... destroyed Romulus and Remus. Currently, very little is known about the state of the Empire. The Rhode Island has been redeployed to..." He suddenly became extremely uneasy, and his voice was affected against his will. "render assistance. That is all. Centurion tr'Delatham out."

It was done maybe a little too quick, but the Romulan was just happy that he had got it over with.
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Post  Craig Benson Tue Jun 05, 2012 10:12 am

USS Rhode Island, Engineering
January 11, 2387
1620 HRS


The engine rooms murmur of activity silenced as the comm channel opened through out the ship, breaking from their work to listen to the annoucment "Attention all hands. This is Centurion tr'Delatham. I've been asked to relay some news. Hobus star has exploded in a supernova, and it's subspace shockwave destroyed my... destroyed Romulus and Remus. Currently, very little is known about the state of the Empire. The Rhode Island has been redeployed to...render assistance. That is all. Centurion tr'Delatham out."

Craig turned to Ensign Kellig, a small man who's long grey hair and beard only made him look smaller than he already was. "Who's Delathram?" he asked the Tellarite engineer, "He's the Romulan who's Chief of Ops." Was the nassally reply as they both turned back to their stations. It didn't sound like anyone Craig had met so far onboard but he felt sympathy for the man. A Romulan working for a service that had barely trusted his people at the best of times, surrounded by foreign faces and now he had lost his home. He must feel like the loneliest person in the Galaxy right now.

A double beep pulled Craig away from his thoughts as his console began displaying a read out of the warp core perfomance analysis. He took a moment to look over the results, everything seemed in order. He began downloading the information to a PADD attached to his station. Craig had never been intersted in politics, even so he wondered how the recent catastrophy would affect the balance of power in the quadrant. How bad was the damage? What was the extent of the explosion? Would other neighbouring powers take adavantage of the situation to seize territory?

His mind began swimming with questions as he took the PADD and crossed engineering to deliver the report, at the moment though only one thing was for certain: things were about to get alot more interesting for everyone.
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Post  Gerard Garrett Tue Jun 05, 2012 8:24 pm

USS Rhode Island-Science Lab 1
January 11, 2387
1620 HRS


“…cleaner data if you include a little bit of a heavier isotope. Try 296 or even 312, if you’re quick on the draw.”

The junior officer’s expression looked uncertain. “I’ve never used either one in this kind of analysis.”

“Don’t sweat it; you’ll just have to account for the faster decay rate. Trust me, it’ll make your graphs way more readable. Holler when you’re done resetting your parameters if you want me to check them.” Garrett rose, lightly patting the younger scientist on the shoulder as he turned and took a few steps, surveying the rest of the lab. It felt good to be off the bridge and among colleagues again, even if only for a few minutes to check their status, and the familiar feeling of the laboratory environment had done much to alleviate his tension over being appointed head of the research team. Not a bad first day, so far. I think they’ll prove to be excellent scientists, every last one. As he began to amble toward the astronomy section, a voice from behind stopped him.

“Lieutenant? The sensor diagnostics you requested have been completed.” Ensign T’Veil, inscrutably Vulcan, handed him a PADD.

“Thanks, Ensign. Nice work.” He accepted the device, running his eyes over its contents. “I wasn’t kidding this morning during my intro: you really can call me Gerry or Al if you’d like. I don’t think respect always requires a title.”

The Vulcan’s head assumed an ever-so-slightly posterior inclination. “I do not believe it would set an appropriate precedent to employ familiar appellations at this time, sir.”

“Okay.” He shrugged. Worth a shot, even with a Vulcan. “Wait a second.” A statistic on the PADD drew his attention. “With a bit of extra juice, these dimensional assignment units in the long-range array could have their standard error values cut in half. The array’s in passive scan mode right now… I wonder if Ops would spare us the resources.”

“Considering the potential benefit to the accuracy of our data collection, it would be prudent to enquire.”

“Glad we agree. I’ll ask Centurion tr’Delatham when I get back to the bridge. Keep things logical in here while I’m out, won’t you, Ensign?” Garrett smiled at T’Veil’s raised eyebrow and strode out of the lab. His pace did not slow as the boatswain’s whistle punctuated the low pulse of the ship’s engines, nor did he falter as the Centurion’s voice came over the comm system.

It was the content of the Centurion’s announcement that halted Garrett in his tracks.

“…its subspace shockwave destroyed my... destroyed Romulus and Remus.”

“Oh, no. Oh, no.” He closed his eyes and lowered his head, brow knitting. Years of experience and training had tattooed in his mind the fact that Mother Nature was indifferent to life. Mother Nature, in her caprice, annihilated uncountable numbers of living things across the cosmos every moment, through methods as vast as supernovas and space/time anomalies to those as minute as viruses and prions. The knowledge, however, failed to make the loss of irreplaceable natural marvels such as Romulus and Remus any easier. He took a long, slow breath, and let out a long, slow sigh. Even if I wish I could, I can’t help it. Only thing we can do now is try to help those people. Drawing himself up, he resumed his march to the bridge and prepared to encounter tr’Delatham, a resident member of what had suddenly become a critically endangered species.
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Post  Virkov Fri Jun 08, 2012 12:01 pm

USS Rhode Island-Waverider Atmospheric Craft
January 11, 2387
1620 HRS

Cadet Windsor sat at the helm console of the Providence, the Rhode Island's Waverider shuttle. He had been assigned to calibrate the inertial dampers and maneuvering thrusters in case the craft would need to be deployed. He knew better than to think this was some momentous and important task, and instead accepted that Commander Holmes had asked him to do it personally to get him out of her hair for a few hours.

At the sound of the boatswain's whistle, he promptly jerked his head up from his work and listened to the message.

"...and it's subspace shockwave destroyed my... destroyed Romulus and Remus. Currently, very little is known about the state of the Empire. The Rhode Island has been redeployed to...render assistance. That is all. Centurion tr'Delatham out."

Windsor set his tools down on the console, and put his hands in his lap, in a moment of quiet contemplation. This changed the entire situation. He had been ordered to report to Deep Space 10 as the end of his midshipman's tour, and expected to receive his commission there, proceeding out into the Frontier. Why would the Admiralty re-deploy the Rhode Island? There was just as much Romulan interest in the Gavarian Corridor as anywhere else.

He tapped his commbadge, and quickly spoke, "Cadet Windsor to Commander Holmes."

"Aleks, please believe me when I tell you that this could not be a more inopportune time. If it's important, please come see me after you're done calibrating the Providence and I'll be more than happy to talk to you then. Holmes out."

He opened his mouth to reply, and sighed deeply instead, hanging his head for a moment. With a slight scowl on his face, he picked up his tools and continued his work.
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Post  Retol Ayan Wed Jun 13, 2012 10:41 pm

USS Rhode Island, Bridge
January 11, 2387
1620 HRS

The Rhode Island has been redeployed to...render assistance. That is all. Centurion tr'Delatham out."

Ayan had turned to watch the Centurion as he started talking, interested in hearing from the new Ops chief. He took a breath with the rest of the bridge crew as Garan finished. That certainly wasn't what he had expected.

An entire system of sentients. An entire homeworld of a major civilization, gone. The concept of that much destruction seemed almost incomprehensible.

He turned his chair back to his console for a moment, putting his palms together and placing his arms out to right angles, using the screen as a shrine plaque. He did not know much about the Romulan faith, but the loss of so many felt it required some form of prayer to the Prophets.

"Raka-ja ut shala morala, ema bo roo kana, uranak, propeh va nara ehsuk shala-kan vunek" he intoned quietly. He left out the portion of the prayer with the deceased's name, uncertain how to pray for an entire people.

He raised his head from his screen once his prayer was done, and tapped on his keypad. The 'bleeping' noise from his fingers on the console cut through the silence that seemed to have fallen on the bridge. Even the usual sounds of work seemed like an unwanted intrusion.

He turned his chair once more to address the command section, looking at Shras. "Course change plotted, sir," he said, quieting his voice as he spoke in the palpable silence. "Standing by for speed and final execution order. ETA at maximum warp is 0024 hours."

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Post  Shras/Eiri Thu Jun 14, 2012 2:09 am

Shras stared at Ayan for awhile, his antennae spinning in opposite directions. They finally came to rest again, pointing at the flight officer. He shook his head. "Maximum warp on my mark. Mark." He pointed a finger forward and moved to the edge of his seat.

A million things ran though his mind. Had anyone been saved? Was there anything they could really do? What exactly had happened. It was several moments before he realized he was holding his breath. He exhaled slowly and closed his eyes. It was almost impossible to grasp so much destruction.

"Head for Tarod. It should be close enough to help and it is in Federation borders, in case tempers are running hot, which I am almost certain that they will be. We might need the protection of the border."
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Post  Virkov Tue Jun 26, 2012 12:55 pm

USS Rhode Island, Ready Room
January 11, 2387
1700 HRS


"James, have you..." Autumn paused, and sighed before continuing. "Have you heard anything? Anything at all?"

The face of her husband went suddenly sour onscreen, and he replied "I don't know love. I hear lots of things. You know how it is, we've never had any great amount of intel coming out of the Empire. It's even worse now. No one seems to know what's going on, and those who have even an iota of information aren't willing to part with it just yet. No one wants to cause a panic, and no one wants to speculate."

She nodded, and wiped the tears from her eyes with both hands, wiping them on the front of her uniform.

"The last I heard, the Monaco had been re-deployed to Deep Space 9 for further orders. I haven't heard anything from Thomas since. It's hard for me to understand why they'd send a ship like that so far from where she'd be needed, but we never had to deal with anything like this when I was still in the Fleet."

"If you talk to him, please tell him to contact me. My stomach is in knots wondering if he's okay," Autumn pleaded.

James smiled, and said "Thomas is a strong boy, Autumn. We did good. But I promise love, if I do hear from him I'll make sure to tell him that his mother is worried sick and he should know better than to ignore her in a situation like this...or any kind of situation really. It's just so damned..."

James stopped abruptly and picked up a PADD as it chirped loudly at him. As he read through it, his expression visibly fell.

"Son of a bitch," he said softly.

"What? What is it?" Autumn exclaimed.

He read directly from the PADD, and said "James William Holmes, under order of the Federation Council and Starfleet Admiralty, you are ordered to return to active duty, and to report to Starbase One immediately for further orders."

He looked up and said "I guess I gotta go. Be safe, I'll be in touch. Love you."

Before Autumn could respond, the screen went blank, the Federation Emblem replacing the face of her husband. She slammed her fists on her desk. She sat for a moment in quiet anger and contemplation, before picking up a mirror out of her drawer and straightening out her hair and uniform.

Laughing mockingly at her own reflection, she said "Oh Autumn...you've seen better days."

Placing the mirror back on her desk, she exited her ready room out onto the bridge.
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Post  Gerard Garrett Wed Jun 27, 2012 3:00 pm

USS Rhode Island-Bridge
January 12, 2387
1710 HRS


It had already been a long shift and it was going to be a while longer before he slept, Garrett thought. The shockwave of Hobus’ supernova had destroyed more than a unique system of planets and who knew how many living things: in just a few seconds, it had irreversibly altered the interstellar politics of the entire quadrant, and the social chaos following in its wake was undoubtedly only just beginning. A relief mission of this magnitude would demand the utmost effort from everyone aboard, including his new, largely-untested science team. He just hoped they’d bear out his confidence in them. The destruction of Earth was unthinkable, a thought uncomfortable in the highest degree. But the unthinkable had just happened to someone else’s home planet. What do you say to a guy who’s just taken that kind of loss? I don’t even know the man. What can I do that wouldn’t seem like just a token gesture of sympathy? The Centurion seemed as impenetrable as ever, a shining example of the Romulan martial ideal, but the biologist in Garrett knew that Romulans were passionate, sensitive, and on the whole, not so different from himself. Focus, damn it. The best thing I can do for him right now is work like a sled dog and try to do right by his people.

He gave the unremarkable sensor readout display at his console yet another once-over. The Rhode Island was screaming toward the Tarod system at high warp and was on-schedule to arrive at 0024 HRS. A handful of blips, however, had just appeared at the edge of the long-range array’s readable resolution. Keeping his eyes fixed on them, his fingers tapped out a sequence of keys. The several lines of information the computer subsequently placed below each blip made Garrett’s stomach tighten involuntarily. He had known it would come to this, but he hadn’t expected it quite so soon. He cleared his throat and broke the silence on the bridge.

“Captain? I’ve got at least 17 Romulan vessels in the Tarod system on long-range sensors, with at least 5 warbirds among them. The rest look like transports. We’re too far out to get accurate life signs, but I’d bet they’re carrying plenty of refugees.”

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Gerard Garrett
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Post  Virkov Wed Jun 27, 2012 4:40 pm

con't from above post

Autumn wheeled to face Garrett, a million thoughts racing through her head.

Warbirds could certainly be part of a refugee rescue, or even a deterrent to prevent people from poaching off the remnants of the survivors, but why would they show their hand so soon? This is getting ugly quicker than it should be.

"We still have some time before we get there, let's not worry too much about it for the time being Lieutenant. For now, send a priority one message to Starfleet Command of what we've got on sensors, and forward the sensor packet data to Cerberus Station to analyze. If we have any luck today, the Empire hasn't gotten this aggressive this quick."

She stood, and walked to the security station in the back of the bridge. With a fixed gaze, she said quietly, "Gunny, this could get ugly very, very fast. I want to make sure we're at complete tactical readiness in case we need to run or gun our way out. Any tricks you might know of...prepare to use them."

She returned to center seat, her face a grim mask of determination.
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