Chapter One - Kicking the Tires

Administration Level'''
 * Tom O'FlaghertyTrial by Fire: Kicking the Tires'''Caloris Station

Tom moved off the transporter stage the moment he materialized. The Ensign at the controls, an Efrosian male, snapped to attention, but Tom put him at ease quickly before clearing the doors into the corridor. The station was even more impressive than the last time he had moved through its corridors. More of the panels and sections were complete, and there were less maintenance personnel. Looks like the Admiral really cracked the whip on getting the place finished.

Chief Edison was still seated, ram-rod straight, behind her desk in front of Admiral Frost’s office. Her hair was swept back into a very tight ponytail, and her face was almost Vulcan-like in its composure. “Commander O’Flagherty, you can go on in. The Admiral was notified of your arrival by the transporter operator. He is waiting for you.”

“Thank you, Chief,” Tom replied as he continued moving towards the doors. They obligingly swooshed open at his approach to reveal the somewhat familiar office beyond.

Logan Frost sat behind his desk continuing to work on paperwork as the Commander approached. Without lifting his gaze, he greeted Tom, “Welcome back to Caloris, Commander. How was your trip? I’m sure the ship is up to our standards.”

“Actually, sir, that was what I wanted to speak with you about. It seems the ship is not fully complete.” The Admiral offered him a seat which he gladly took before continuing. “When we arrived, a majority of ship’s systems as well as large pieces of hardware were not installed. Luckily, with the efforts of the ship’s crew and some volunteers from McKinley station we were able to rush final construction. Unfortunately, many of those systems are prototypes and remain largely untested.”

Frost leaned back in his chair, more than slightly concerned over the status of their newest addition to the Megiddo Fleet. “Now, that could be a problem, Commander. I’m sure your crew will be able to get that rectified in time, though.”

“Well, sir, that is the other issue.” Tom leaned forward in the chair, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair. “It seems Starfleet Operations is a little behind in getting the personnel together for the crew. We are right now operating at exactly one-third the normal crew. Truly, it is a skeleton crew, sir. I see it greatly limiting our mission capabilities.”

“Definitely true, Commander. Although, for your first mission, I don’t think that will be much of a problem. Tell me, what do you know of the Epislon Indi system?”

“Well, sir, as a member of the crew on the USS Gettysburg, we were ambushed there while trying to rendezvous with the Echarra Trade Fleet. By the time we arrived, the entire fleet had been destroyed and we were barely capable of fighting off a lone Xul destroyer.”

“That’s a pretty good recollection.” Frost rose from behind his desk and moved to the display terminal on the wall. When he activated it, a stellar cartography overlay of the system came up, showing the destroyed planets and the debris field. Instantly, bad memories flashed in Tom’s mind of meeting the Xul for the first time, and how they had taken his Captain’s arm. He never told anyone how it had felt like one of his largest failings as a Security Chief.

“With the destruction of the Echarra Fleet and the Epison Indi IV moon, there has been a shift in gravimetric readings within the system. The destruction of so many warp cores tore a hole in subspace. The debris of the different ships as well as the crumbling moon are all shifting at an alarming rate. It has been called ‘The Jungle’ by stellar cartographers.” Frost punched in some commands which zoomed the view to show the shifting currents of debris. “The mission of your crew is to salvage the sensitive material from the Starfleet ships in the Jungle as well as recover any bodies from the Echarra ships. They will be returned to the respective governments as an act of good faith from the Federation.”

“That’s a six week trip. I guess we could use that time to get the rest of our new systems lined-out,” Tom said as he rose from his chair to get a closer look at the display. Standing beside the Admiral he took in the swirling clouds and floating debris that had been a battlefield not so very long ago. “It doesn’t look like the Atlas will be able to make many runs into the thick of the fray with all the turbulence.”

“Missions specialists agree with that assessment. You will need to deploy your auxiliary craft in order to enter the debris-field, but that shouldn’t be a problem.” The Admiral turned to face Tom as he concluded his briefing. “I will have the rest of the intelligence sent to your ship. Once you are supplied, and you have briefed your senior staff, set course for the ‘The Jungle.’”

“Aye, sir,” Tom said as he and the Admiral quickly shook hands before he turned to depart the office. Passing Chief Edison, Tom thought about stopping to try and make the woman smile. Then, considered it a bad idea and kept walking. ''No need to pick a fight you can’t win, Tom. The only person who might be able to put a smile on her face is Chris, and even still, that is one big iceberg.''

A JP featuring Admiral Logan Frost, Commanding Officer, Megiddo Fleet Main Engineering'''
 * 03-31-2011, 22:31Gerhardt Rahner'''USS Atlas

Gerhardt wasn’t on duty, so having his uniform unzipped halfway down and the top half hanging loose wouldn’t land him a violation of uniform code, even though he currently leaned on the railing just outside his office overlooking Main Engineering. The mug of coffee in his hand had become a permanent fixture; some of the engineering crew had started to feel more comforted by the sight of Chief Rahner’s mug-in-hand than by the stable warp core. Gerhardt had taken to staying in Main Engineering for at least two of the four daily shifts. When he was off-duty, he had to force himself to spend time in his quarters or away from Engineering. There was just so much to do on a ship this size and, with only 18 crewmen on each shift through the shakedown cruise, he still wasn’t comfortable leaving his ship in so few hands. The eight engineering officers rotated as the officer of the watch, so each day, Gerhardt would man his shift and stay on for another, not looking over the watch officer’s shoulder, just staying in Engineering as an extra set of hands. He made certain that he never stayed in the same spot on the watch officer rotation so that he worked a shift each day and always managed to spend time working with each of the division leads during the shift after his. Then he would spend some time doing administrative work before Lt. Cressida shoo’ed him to his quarters for rest.

The ship had docked at Caloris Station to receive orders, but most of the engineers had stayed on board. What could they do off ship that would in anyway aid them in their over-worked days on board? Chief Rahner had started them on their shift rotations as soon as they had finished the hectic work at McKinley Station because he knew they would have to grow accustomed to this work load quickly or they could never hope to keep the ship flying. Now, the engineering crew wasn’t stretched to the breaking point, but Gerhardt could never expect them to be able to fly into battle under these circumstances.

At the current moment, Gerhardt had just finished his administrative work early, so had decided to watch over the current shift for a moment. The pit was empty save for the watch officer and three crewmen; the warp column was surrounded by an underwhelming two; and, the rest of the shift was spread thin across the ship, doing maintenance. Fortunately, there had been no need for repairs yet. Gerhardt sighed as he looked over his understaffed domain and thought over the steady pace they had developed.

Ayla had spotted Gerhardt from the pit and pointed directly at him with a glare. He smiled lightly and nodded sleepily. Pulling the top of his uniform back up, he ambled to the lift, rode it down, and headed to the turbolift. Stepping through the doors, he turned and poked his head back for a brief moment. “Lt. Cressida. Keep her flying!” he hollered before letting the doors close and carry him to his deck.
 * 04-05-2011, 00:15Christopher Vaughn''':::XO’s Stateroom:::
 * 0215, Megiddo Standard Time (MST):::
 * USS Atlas:::'''

The lights lit to a pre-designated dim setting and the alarm chimed softly, The time is 0215 hours the computer informed him, As Chris slowly slid out of the large bed and got to his feet he heard the replicator automatically dispense a cup of coffee with his desired amount of creamer and sugar. Taking the coffee to the head he began getting ready: shower, brushing of the teeth, styling of the hair and a freshly pressed uniform. Chris hated being up this early in the morning,  I should just be getting to bed, not waking up.

Comfortably plopping down in the exquisite office chair that sat behind his desk he ordered a light breakfast from the replicator and skimmed over the mid-watch logs. Chris didn’t actually need to be up that early. But he intended on running drills with the various departments and wanted to do it with the department heads not around. See how they handled a crisis on the off hours.

Truth be told his life as an XO was much different than his time as a security or tactical officer. Even when he was a department head he still had to answer to someone on a more direct basis. His schedules had still been set by Captain Luku and the XO (Tom) and he was still considered an equal among the other department heads. Now the situation was substantially different. The only person on the ship that didn’t call him sir was Tom – and in private Lisbet. Chris had no set schedule, we did his work when he felt like it and kept his own hours for the most part. About his only pressing daily engagement that he didn’t control was the morning Captain’s Staff meeting at 0900 in the wardroom. Even when department heads, officers or senior enlisted need to meet with their XO it was Chris who controlled the time and place of the meeting; it could be at midnight in a jefferies tube if he wanted and the person requesting the meeting would simply say yes sir and be there early. Of course meeting in a jefferies tube at midnight was silly – unless it was a social call with an attractive female.

Finishing the meal and the last entry in the log he stood, straightened his uniform jacket and left his quarters. His new quarters were also a massive upgrade compared to the oversized closets he lived in aboard the Gettysburg and the Emissary. However, just returning from leave and his penthouse, the XO’s cabin (massive as it was) seemed underwhelming by comparison. One of the other changes to his day to day routine now that he was an XO was the amount of paperwork. He readily recalled Tom lamenting his workload as XO of the Emissary and how he was constantly snowed under with PADD’s at all hours of the day and night.

If there was at least one area Chris felt more equipped to deal with the rigors of a command position it was the paperwork department. He had always admired Tom and his qualities as both a leader and a friend; frankly he hoped (secretly of course) to be able to emulate some of those leadership traits down the road. But if there was an area he thought Tom could learn from him, it was in organization. Tom had never developed a system for dealing with the mountains of paperwork command entailed nor did he have the patience for it. Chris on the other hand spent years dealing with the paperwork of the Federation Courts and by comparison the day to day records keeping of a starship was childsplay. Each morning he knocked out the entire day’s sack of PADD’s within a few hours and enjoyed the freedom to deal with more pressing (and interesting) matters than the ships paper trail. It jokingly annoyed Tom that he breezed through the paperwork seemingly lacking any difficulty or time to complete it.

Chris’s thoughts trailed off as he entered one of the cargo bays. Two junior enlisted operations crew and one NCO sat around large round storage barrel playing cards. All three snapped to attention as he entered. “What the hell is all this?” he demanded.

“Sorry sir.” The NCO blurted. “We were ah…bored.”

“This isn't the Bellagio., petty officer.” Chris snapped. “However, I think I can remedy the boredom issue.” Pulling the PADD from under his arm he rattled off the first round of drills to the small group. The next three hours were going to be fun, well…for me. 0630 MST USS Atlas'''
 * 04-05-2011, 02:55Gerhardt Rahner'''Chief Engineer’s Quarters

Gerhardt was lying in bed awake when the computer’s soft, feminine voice announced the time. The wake-up call was followed by a soft but increasingly louder rendition of the ancient jazz classic, I Can’t Get Started. The lights rose from dark to dim slowly, allowing Gerhardt a pleasant waking.

“Coffee,” Gerhardt sighed as he sat up and rubbed his stubbled face. He reached for the padd at his bedside and called up the day’s agenda. The smell of coffee wafted from the replicator, causing him to pause long enough to rise from his bed and grab the warm mug. ''Let’s see, staff meeting at 0900, join Beta shift after the meeting... the crew should be proficient enough to start running DC drills... I should have time to set that up over breakfast and before the staff meeting.''

Engineering had been so busy settling into running a skeleton crew, they hadn’t really got down to the extremely necessary task of drilling. The only way to assure a ready department was through constant vigilance and regular practice. The song ended slowly and the music changed to the slightly more up-beat tempo of Fine and Mellow, which triggered something in Gerhardt’s mind, an urgent, deep psychological trigger. His stomach growled. He chuckled softly and ordered a poached egg, sausage, bacon, and toast. The steaming plate materialized in the replicator bay and Gerhardt carried it to his desk. He set the plate down and used the padd in his hand to sweep back some of the clutter. He heard a thud on the ground to his right and bent down to investigate. The shiny object he’d removed Main Engineering sat inconspicuously on the deck. He picked it up, considered shining it on his shirt, but thought better and set it down next to his breakfast.

The object’s muted shine and solid construction suggested to Gerhardt that it’s mystery may only be exceeded by its power, though this was just a gut feeling and he could see nothing empirical to suggest it was anything more than a polished piece of rock. I wonder if I would have time to finish setting up the DC drills before the staff meeting if I tinker with this? He looked around the room conspiratorially, immediately feeling silly. “Computer, chronometer display.” A small rectangular portion of his desk top rose to display the current time: 0658 MST. I can spare a few moments.

He turned his attention back to the object and was shocked to discover a chronometer, glowing in a soft red on the anterior edge. He could discover no mechanism on the device that might serve as a display or holographic imager, but the chronometer on the object clearly had activated when he requested the chronometer display. He noticed also that the time shown on the object was vastly different than the current time, reading 00:33:33. He turned it over in his fingers, hoping to catch some clue as to the object’s origin or purpose. He glanced again at the chronometer on his desk: 0702 MST. The object still read 00:33:33.

“Strange,” he said aloud. “Um... start clock... restart clock... begin... run...” he attempted various commands to start the clock, but nothing seemed to work. He tried to imagine any commands one might use for a stopwatch or timer, but to no avail. His desk chronometer read 0742 MST; the object would have to wait, duty before desire. He swiveled his chair around to the engineer’s work-bench installed behind his desk and set the object down. “Computer, run spectral analysis of unknown object. Save results in new data collection file Shiny-Bit001.”

=/\=Spectral analysis will require three hours to complete for unknown object.=/\=

Gerhardt sighed, but relented. All for the best; at least now he could get his real work done. He spun back around, pulled his padd closer, and began writing drill scenarios for the DC teams on each shift while cutting into his first piece of sausage.
 * 04-05-2011, 14:59Joshua Castillo::USS Atlas::
 * CTO's Office::

"Chief Tactical Officer's log supplimental, the arrival of the Atlas at Caloris Station has brought up some feelings of remorse as I saw the Intergrity outside my window docked at the station. I see that the station's engineer's have kept the old girl up todate, and managed to get her spit polished once more, like the Intergrity should be. I have already contacted the docking master about our torpedo compliment and, that the Atlas' should be totally restocked with her quantum torpedoes.

As I would like to go in to detail more about the Atlas' weapons because of the classification of many of them, I cannot devulge that type of information in my logs; however what I can say is that I am glad that the starbase will be fully repairing all the tactical systems, and making sure that all the weapons are up to code and fully stocked in the dozens of weapon's lockers across the ship. Computer end log."
 * 04-06-2011, 16:30Joshua Castillo::USS Atlas::
 * CTO's Office::

Joshua rose from his chair when the computer responded that his log had been completed; and he took a long hard stretch and peered out of his window looking at the Integrity once more. "I hoped they finally were able to fix that damned port nacelle," said Joshua with his hand on his chin as he stood up looking at her.

"You always had troubles with that damn ship," said Jean as she walked into his office with a data padd in her hand; Jean always knew how to make a entrance, and some how she knew how to have perfect timing in making her entrances as well.

"The CEO before me had a hard time locking down that nacelle...and that nacelle almost cost us our lives during the Xul War," he said as he placed both of his hands on his hips and looked out of the window at the different shuttles and worker bees that moved back and forth shuttling people and supplies everywhere.

"I wonder how the admiral is doing?" asked Joshua as he turned from looking at the Integrity and back to the loads of paper work that were stacking up on his desk.

"Busy as ever," replied Jean as she tossed the data padd onto his desk, adding to the pile that Joshua would eventually get to, the one thing that she remembered about Joshua was that he was always putting off paper work; she was the type of person to get the paper work done first that way the end of the day would be lighter.

"Yeah, well the Admiral sure does have his hands full with running an entire Starbase," he said as he pulled out his chair and started looking at the data padds that were on his desk "So what did you bring me?" asked Joshua with a hint of sarcasim as he picked up her padd and leanded back into his chair.

"Maintence reports on the phaser arrays and the type XII phaser cannons," she said as she took a seat over on her side of the office going through the few padds that she had on her desk.

"I swear, it seems as if Starfleet built this ship to withstand the Borg not for us to go exploring to the far reaches of the galaxy; I feel like I've been stationed on a world war II battle ship," he said with a slight laugh.

"Well many people said that about the Sovereign class, and even the Galaxy class before that...however the Atlas is an extremely rare ship and we get to play with her," she said as she lifted up a padd and pressed a few buttons.

"True ture, hey do you want to go take a look at the new station since we are docked here for a while?" asked Joshua.

"You have work," she said not looking up from her desk, the one thing about Joshua is that he always knew when it was time to take a break, and that he didn't want Jean to become too bogged down in her work to forget that she was still human.

"We have time...and only God knows the next time we will dock...come on let's go," he said as he rose up from his desk and grabbed her by the arm and pulled out of the office heading for the station. Captain's Stateroom 0539 Hours
 * 04-06-2011, 17:01Lisbet UlrikaUSS Atlas'

The early mornings were becoming normal. Tom had never been much of an early-riser before, but with a new ship and it's first mission, excitement was pulling him from sleep early with each approaching morning. This morning would be incredibly special; the first mission briefing for the senior staff would lay the foundation for the rest of this mission. It wasn't the most glamorous mission for the large explorer but with such a small crew, it would be perfect for Tom to cut his teeth with.

The notes for his briefing were on one Padd and he busied himself with trying to memorize them while the desktop monitor displayed the logs from Beta and Gamma shifts for him to review. With a steaming cup of coffee in his right hand, he was T-minus 3 hours 30 minutes from staff meeting, and totally absorbed in his work.

Bet never noticed when Tom got out of bed, but when she reached for him and found him gone she woke with worry on her mind. She ‘reached’ out for him, searching the stateroom for him and found him in the adjacent office. Bet climbed out of bed, wrapping herself in the blanket and padded out of the bedroom and immediately was caught by the sight of him at his desk sipping coffee in his pajama bottoms.

“Do you want something for breakfast?” she asked, approaching him across the room.

He twitched slightly at the sound of her voice. Tom's mind had been so focused on work that he hadn't heard her come in, but when he looked up and saw the blanket around her, he smiled, until he felt the slight bit of worry still coming from her. "I'm fine for now. What's the matter? Did I wake you?"

“You focus so intently that sometimes I worry its something serious,” Bet answered as she programed toast with honey from the replicator. “So, what has your attention so early in the morning?” she asked as she took her toast over to a chair that was next to his desk.

"I'm trying to memorize my notes for today's briefing as well as look over the logs from last night." He leaned back in the chair and stretched before taking another sip from the mug on the table. "You know, I think I like this look on you. You should try and incorporate this into your wardrobe more."

“I’ll do that, if you’ll incorporate your PJ bottoms into your wardrobe...” she teased back. “You’re not nervous are you, about your first mission briefing? You’ll do great! You have a good team, rely on that knowing everyone will do their jobs in a exemplary manner.”

"Bet, I still don't know most of these people apart from their service records and they don't know me. There will be a new CoB onboard today for the meeting, but that's not what's really bothering me." He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. "I really just want to make sure I have all my stuff together. I want to be prepared and put up a good standard for the crew."

“And you will,” she simply stated as she snuggled into him. She knew he was feeling a bit out of his depth, but she also knew he was entirely capable of commanding this ship. “You’re ready for this command Tom, truly.” His usual self doubting aside, she knew he knew it too. “Want to rehearse with me? Practice what you’re going to say, so you can hear it out loud?”

Instantly, he started to blush, "I think I know it pretty well." Then, he turned off the pad he was using and decided it was time for another cup of coffee.

“I’ll take a cup please, while you’re over there. So, what exactly IS this mission we’re to undertake? Or do I have to wait for the official briefing?” She took the offered coffee as Tom returned to his desk. “Tell me its exciting, fraught with much adventure.”

As he sat back down, Tom cocked his head to were he was looking out from under his brow with mock disapproval "You may be the only person on the ship who will hate this assignment more than me. We are going back to the Epsilon Indi system to perform salvage and recovery operations. Starfleet wants to extend an olive branch by recovering the dead of the Echarra Trade Fleet."

“That won’t be much fun. I can understand Command wishing to extend that olive branch though, we have much to gain with a friendship with them, if I remember the mission briefings correctly. I’ll keep my staff alert for any undue signs of stress, a lot of good people were lost in that attack and we may have family aboard Atlas of any personnel.” It wouldn’t be a glamorous first mission, but a highly necessary one.

Tom leaned across the table to give her a small kiss, "I knew I could count on you." Then, he leaned back and sighed, "Now, if only the rest of the crew can be as compliant."

“You mean they’re not? I’m shocked. I’m sorry you’re having to deal with that, but perhaps you can have Chris handle them? As XO doesn’t it fall on him?” She knew that wasn’t necessarily the case, but encouraging Tom to delegate to his XO was good for them both.

"What I really mean is that I don't know what they will say about the mission." Taking another sip of his coffee, he decided to change the subject. "So what's the news in the wedding front?"

“Mother has already sent along her guest list, filled with names I either don’t know or whom I have no interest inviting. It will be a battle managing her...I’d almost, ALMOST mind you, rather battle the Xul. But I have Father’s support and he’ll exercise what leverage he has at the appropriate time. Mum,” she’d started using this term rather than her name as soon as she was so warmly welcomed into Moira’s home, “sent along an idea book. Clippings and images that she’s collected over the years. Seems she’s been dreaming of helping to plan your wedding for a while now. Its really very sweet.”

"My mother can be just as bad as yours, but she's so nice about it that you feel guilty not using her advice. I guess that's one of the gifts that comes with motherhood. You learn how to guilt your children into things." Tom stood and turned towards the replicator. Ordering a light breakfast of a bagel and some cream cheese, he sat back down started spreading the cheese. "So, when do I get to see this collection of ideas my mother had?"

“Is now a good time? She’s got pictures of a decorated gazebo that I thought was really beautiful, with white and purple flowers. And of course, we’ll have the ceremony and reception in the cottage garden...wait, there won’t be enough room there...” Bet trailed off for a moment, deep in thought. “My mother will just have to deal with a small guest list, I’m limiting her to 25 of her closest friends, end of story.”

Tom laughed at Lisbet's defiance. It was interesting for her to talk about her parents. It was such different world than the one he was from. "Well, make sure she has enough room to invite every ambassador in the Federation. I know how much they will want to come to an Irish wedding."

“If my father’s stories are at all true, they’d be happier at an old fashioned Irish Wake,” Bet answered as she walked to their bedroom to retrieve the Padd of Moira’s collection. “Is it chill in here to you? I’m suddenly freezing.” Bet moved to the climate control panel, “It says its 72 degrees in here, but I’d swear its colder.”

"Well, dat's what happ'ns when ye talk ill of da dyin, my dear," Tom said with a smirk.

“And you know what happens when you throw the accent at me...my knees go all jellied,” Bet replied plopping herself into Tom’s lap. “Now, open that Padd and lets look at your mother’s dreams of a wedding.”

Some of the pictures were every bit of his mother's style, right down to the suggestion of a rather Celtic looking wedding dress with lace sleeves. "You're not going to use all of these suggestions are you?"

“I don’t know yet. That dress is a bit old fashioned, but the rest is nice. All the flowers and lace, its NOTHING like a Betazed wedding, and that’s really what I’m going for here. I’d love a twilight wedding, with tons of twinkling lights in the garden’s trees...like stars shining down on us.” She stopped and looked at Tom, “This is really happening, isn’t it?”

"It certainly seems like it. I think the twilight idea sounds great. We just have to make sure and do that in the summer or everyone will be freezing their tails off." He flipped through more of the pictures as he tried to picture how things would look spread out in front if him when he had a thought. "Bet, I really think I need to try and make amends with your mother before we set a date. I know she will probably never accept me, but I don't want her to spoil this with bitterness over me."

“My mother will not let pettiness spoil a celebration. But, could I suggest a strong approach. Seems to me, from her acceptance of Chris at the brunch and Father’s strong hand, that she doesn’t like any hint of softness. You might win her over by flat out telling her to get over herself.” When she saw Tom blanch at the thought, she had to laugh. “I’m only half serious here, but that’s what it seems to me as I watch her deal with men. Women, on the other hand, are a different beast. Its all from her dealings with the House, politics are beastly there. I honestly think if you sit her down and lay out your expectations, she’ll come around.”

"I hope so. Lord knows, If I don't do something, my mother will give her what for, and then you'll give her what for and then I end up seemingly hen-pecked. And that just won't do."

“Hen-pecked? That’s a new one, but very descriptive,” Bet chuckled. “You are not now, nor will you ever be hen-pecked. It will all work out Dearest, how can it not? We are the perfect couple and we’ll have the perfect wedding.”

As she smiled down at him, he could feel strong currents of love floating in the room. It was difficult sometimes who the emotions belonged to, but undoubtedly they had been feeling the same thing because when Tom moved to kiss her, Bet was already there; her lips waiting for him.

When they broke their passionate embrace, he smiled again and said, "Well, I'm glad you are so assured of our mutual perfection."

'''A Perfect JP brought to you by Tom and Bet...the Perfect Couple! '''
 * wiggle2:
 * 04-06-2011, 19:45Tom O'FlaghertyJunior Officer’s Quarters

''I swear if I have to listen to that crazy Teutonic twit babble on incoherently one more time, I’ll plant a hyperspanner in his cranium. Who does he think he is, telling me to get my hands off of the communications systems? Doesn’t he know I designed most of them?'' In fifteen years, Mason York had seen more new tech than just about anyone in Starfleet. The strained relationship with his father not withstanding, he had been involved in the design and production of most of the communications hardware and software programs in space, and then there was the other tech he had been able to handle since coming out of the private sector.

His career had remained more than fairly low-key since then, with him never progressing beyond Ensign, but he had been able to maintain his commission by always being useful if not completely indispensable. The connections within the Orion Syndicate hadn’t hurt either. They had been able to scratch each others backs for almost a decade, and the money that had come from dealing small amounts of tech along with large amounts of information had allowed him to gain his newest posting.

The Atlas had everything he had dreamed of; new scenes, and copious amounts of prototype equipment he could sell on the black market. He could have spent the rest of his career in Starfleet slowly plundering the schematics of the Vesta-class vessel and selling them to the highest bidder. The only thing stopping him was the fact that he didn’t want to stay in Starfleet that long. York had other ideas on his mind; the most important one was amassing enough money to wave in his father’s face as the son returned to buy the company out from under him. Those thoughts brought an evil sneer to his face everytime he gave them an opportunity to surface.

Now, as he sat in the small room that was his quarters, he contemplated the final steps in his plan. It would be a big undertaking, but definitely one worth the risk. A light began to flash in the top left of the console on his small desk. Opening the channel, he was presented with the sour visage of the hulking Orion who had been his “handler” all these years, and never in that time did he seem happy. “What do you want, York? I don’t want information on the Alpha Quadrant, I already told you that.”

“Marvud-Tang, I’m surprised you are so behind. I’m back in the Gamma Quadrant, and I have something better than information for you. I might have a ship for the Syndicate.” York basked in the stunned silence that followed. Tang was not the brightest light in the box, but he knew good news when he heard it.

“The Syndicate has no need for more space trash, York. There is enough of that floating around now that Starfleet isn’t in the middle of some war.” Tang leaned closer to the screen, as if lowering his voice would make the connection more secure. “Is it a Miranda? They’re old ships, but easily upgradeable.”

“Nothing like that, Tang. This is a new ship. A Vesta-class complete with loads of prototype tech.” A smile spread across his slight features as he relished in his own deviousness. “It seems my last department head thought that all I needed to become a good officer was the responsibility of a high-profile assignment.”

“So, how are we supposed to steal one of the newest ships in Starfleet? You idiot! They will most certainly come looking for it!” The hulking Orion slumped back in his chair. A look of utter defeat clouding his face. “They may not be the most aggressive of groups, but they won’t just sit back and let some new prize just slip out of their hands.”

“Well, Mr. Tang, it seems that the vaunted foresight of Starfleet may be slipping. They posted this ship out here without a full crew. Tomorrow we will leave on a salvage mission six weeks from Megiddo, and most of her systems have not been fully tested. The commanding officer is a young idiot lieutenant commander who has no experience, and the rest of the crew is spread so thin there is no way they would be able to properly secure the ship. I’m telling you, this is one fat pigeon.” York was almost giddy by the time he finished selling the Orion.

“And how, might I ask, do we get a Federation Heavy Cruiser to just give up?” Tang was beginning to think the plan had some merit.

“Well, that’s the fun part. We need to distract them so they get off their planned route. Then, no one will know where to look for them. I have a perfect idea...”

A post featuring PNPC Mason York

'' This morning’s staff meeting was probably too easy. Everyone was prepared and most already knew what was required of their departments. Most are excited to begin testing new systems and begin finding out what the ship is capable of. I say most, because our Chief Helm Officer, Lieutenant P’Rim, portrays the most stereotypical Vulcan calm, but its main benefit is to balance out the dogged persistence of Lieutenant Rahner. Our Chief Engineer is more than competent, and has gotten this ship farther along in the short time he’s been here than the San Francisco Fleet Yards could have dreamed.
 * 04-16-2011, 16:32Tom O'Flagherty''Captain’s Log, Stardate 64283.1

The Chief of the Boat arrived this morning just after the meeting to report for duty. He is an interesting individual, and, judging from his personnel report, a more than capable CoB. I am leery of him, though. I believe he doesn’t trust anyone younger than him, which is interesting because he may be the oldest person aboard, other than some of our Vulcan crewmembers. There seem to be numerous recommendations in his record to become Master Chief of Starfleet, but apparently, he just isn’t quite ready to retire. I’m sure in time he will make himself part of the crew in an indispensable manner.

We have a six-week journey to the Epsilon Indi system, and with new intelligence reports coming from the return, and subsequent destruction, of the USS Gettysburg, the amount of Xul activity we could see remains uncertain. Analysts looking at the reports have offered that with the internal conflicts raging among the different races of the Xul Empire there won’t be much to speak of, but I remain skeptical. I can’t push that first engagement out of my mind. We could be attacked at any moment

To that end, I’m hoping our time in-transit will allow us the opportunity to test all or our tactical systems and find out the ability of our security teams. Mr. Rahner has set up a schedule to test all of our systems that have been coordinated with the different departments. We will be conducing a host of different propulsion tests, and even plan to engage our slipstream drive. Mr. Vaughan is concerned about our tactical capabilities, but I’m sure we will be able to have everything ironed out before we get there.

End Log

''':::::Deck 6:::::
 * Ready Room:::::'''

Tom rose from the couch in the ready-room. His jacket lay draped over the chair of his desk where a padd displaying the deck layout and schematics of the new Vesta-class ship USS Atlas lay open with highlights for different systems to be tested. The office was sparsely decorated with a few mementos of home that had been picked out by his mother and Lisbet; he appreciated all of them, but they would never have made it to the wall had the two women in his life hadn’t chosen them.

As the Irishman walked behind his desk, he picked up the padd and looked at the computer monitor that echoed the schematics for all Vesta Mk. II hulls. Something seemed out of place that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but it would have to wait for another time. The ship was about to head into the black for its first real mission. The crew had been chomping at the bit to get out of the station, and the captain mirrored their anxiousness, though Tom had kept it to himself.

After zipping up jacket and pulling it straight, Tom scooped up the padd from his desktop and walked down the short corridor into the Bridge where the Alpha Shift crew busied themselves with final preparations. He nodded to the two sentries at the aft entrance, who snapped to attention at his approach, and then walked up the short ramp to stand in front of his chair, which was the most elevated point in the room. Looking around, he took in the sights and sounds of a working starship. On the main viewer, light traffic moved past the moored starship a few workers in EV suits performed general maintenance to the station. The blue-green orb of Megiddo III filled the bottom right portion of the screen, clouds slowly building on one of the oceans.

Lt. Johanna Mari turned from her position at Ops to address Tom. “All departments and divisions report green, captain. We are ready to depart on your order.”

“Well, Lieutenant,” Tom said while settling into his chair, “let’s not keep everyone waiting, I guess. Pass the word to prepare for departure.”

“Aye, sir.” The dark-haired woman began to punch commands into her console before opening a channel to the harbormaster for clearance to depart. In all of thirty seconds, she was turning back to face Tom with the news. “Caloris Station gives the all clear and good luck, sir.”

“Mr. P’Rim, began departure procedures.” The tall Vulcan at the Flight Controllers station nodded in response as he began to coordinate the three other members of his department.

“All hatches and airlocks secure, thrusters to stations keeping, deflector set for inter-system transit. Mr. Berry, prepare impulse engines once we clear the station.” Slowly, the large station and the orb of Megiddo III began to slip out of the main viewer as the large explorer turned her nose towards the black of space. The hum the impulse engines through the deck began to warm as the ship pushed away from the busy hub that was the heart of Starfleet operations in the Gamma Quadrant.

P’Rim guided the ship through one slow, graceful banking turn to port as the Atlas passed the last planet in the system and entered interplanetary space. “Sir, we are now cleared to go to warp.”

Using the interfaces on the arms of his chair, Tom brought up the schedule of tests the crew was to begin running. First on the list was the beginning of four warp speed tests. “Mr. P’Rim, lay in a direct course for the Epsilon Indi System.”

“Course laid in, sir.”

“Take us to warp 5 and then begin to run the ship up to maximum speed.”

“Aye, sir. Engaging at warp 5.” As the stoic words left his mouth, the whine of warp engines engaging were beginning to build in the ship, and then the Atlas shot forward before a flash revealed the distorted stars of warp speed. Now, she plunged into the dark, many times faster than the speed of light, and Tom sat back in his chair and tried to enjoy the ride.

''':::::Deck 11:::::
 * Main Engineering:::::'''

Thunderous applause roared through the cavernous halls of the room as the entire complement of the ship’s engineering department had flooded into the room for the departure from Megiddo Station. Not long after the first wave of applause died, Lt. Cressida turned back to the room and ran the Gamma Shift engineers out so they could get some rest before their shifts.

Meanwhile, Mason York leaned against a console on the far side of the room and played with the remote control in his pocket. It had taken him months of working at the San Francisco Fleet Yards with materials from three different races in order to make something untraceable that would interface with Starfleet systems. It had been a painstaking process to arrive at this particular moment. Once the countdown was started, he would be walking down the final path to leaving Starfleet behind, for good.

Featuring NPC Mason York 1104'''
 * 04-17-2011, 09:51Gerhardt Rahner'''Main Engineering

Beta shift had seen the pit full of the entire engineering crew. All of the primary and secondary and most of the tertiary systems were fully operational, so there just hadn’t been as much for everyone to do. They weren’t there to work, anyway; everyone wanted to be present for the first launch of what should prove to be a lengthy series of tests for the new ship. All eyes were locked on the MSD and, when the display showed the command for warp 5, everyone glared through the plotboard at the warp core behind it. Thunderous applause roared as the core hummed to life, whined through a build-up, and finally the inertia dampeners caught the otherwise molecule-shattering forces unleashed as the ship shot to warp 5. Not long after the first wave of applause died, Lt. Cressida ordered the Gamma Shift engineers out so they could get some rest before their shifts. A cork popped loudly as a smuggled bottle was opened. Gerhardt grinned as Ayla’s head swiveled around her shoulders to find the culprit. He waved her down and climbed on the central console.

“Attention, all hands,” he said, raising his arms to garner more attention. “First, congratulations on a successful first launch.” He paused as another cheer went up. “Second, don’t get drunk.” Pause for the appropriate groan and a few cries of, “But, Mom!”

“Yet.” Cheer. “All engineers are to report back here in one hour, when Beta and Gamma shifts will change over. We will be working on DC drills, particularly full red alert, all hands on deck drills. Division heads, see me for pre-drill briefing. Beta shift, Lt. Cressida will be overseeing the rest of your shift while we run the first core test, starting at warp 5 and building to max speed. Recommended max cruise speed is 9.975; make us proud and push for 9.98, ja?”

Gerhardt jumped down from the console and intercepted a flute of champagne the off-duty crew was passing around. The division heads were milling towards him, clinking glasses with their underlings. All except one, Gerhardt noticed. Ensign York completely ignored the celebrations around him and seemed more interested in gazing admiringly at the warp core, the hand in his pocket fingering something like a worry-stone. Gerhardt decided it was nothing, shaking it off when York finally broke his reverie to join the rest of the heads.

'''Main Engineering 1536'''

The last of the DC teams were coming back from their various tasks now, and all looked to be running ragged. They had run all the drills recommended by Starfleet Corps of Engineers code, then run a few Gerhardt had concocted for their skeleton crew. He had thought of all sorts of issues: inertial dampener failure in orbit, ship-wide virus in combat, complete power failure in a wormhole! They had drilled on every emergency short of someone walking into the warp core and tearing out the dilithium matrix. One crewman had joked that Lt. Rahner’s nightmares must be terrifying if this was what he dreamed up.

All engineers were gathered in the pit. They had exhausted Gerhardt’s list of drills with the last one, so he prepared to release those not on duty. “Attention, all hands. You have done an excellent job today. From now on, you will run these drills once a week with your shift crew as soon as your shift is off duty. We will be ready for everything we can think of so that we will only need to be truly innovative when we encounter the unimaginable. Delta shift, you are on duty in two and a half hours with Lt. Cressida; I suggest you get some rest. Gamma shift, you have the next round of warp core tests coming up at 1700; I will be working with you until the end of your shift. Dismissed.”

Ayla was already stalking towards him with her hands behind her back as the engineers went to their various assignments. Gerhardt raised a hand to silence her before she could speak.

“Lieutenant, I would recommend you check the watch officer schedule for tomorrow,” Gerhardt sighed. “You will note that I am assigned to Delta shift, giving me plenty of time to rest between the end of this Gamma shift and the start of tomorrow’s Delta shift.”

Ayla’s eyes squeezed tight and she pulled a padd from behind her back. She jabbed a few quick commands before retorting, “No, you’re not!”

“Yes, well,” Gerhardt replied sheepishly, “I would have been before you knew anything different if you were not such a... a fine example of a Starfleet officer fully deserving a promotion and commendations.” He had wavered once again under her glare. He cleared his throat, pulled his shoulders back, and in a semi-serious voice of command said, “Lieutenant, I have made an executive decision to shift the duty roster for tomorrow so that I am...”

“No,” she cut him off. “You have been working too damn hard and need more rest. I am removing you from tomorrow’s roster completely and putting you in charge of Gamma shift in two days. During that time, you will rest. If you refuse, I will take this matter to CMO Ulrika and inform her that you are to be temporarily relieved of duty.”

Gerhardt stood baffled and still, unsure of how to proceed. When he finally found his words, he demanded, “On what grounds?”

“Clearly your judgement has been compromised due to fatigue, sir.”

“Everyone is fatigued, damn it!” he shouted a little too loud. Everyone still in Main Engineering either left quickly if they were off duty; if they were still on duty, their task suddenly required their full attention.

“Perhaps, but not everyone has been pulling quadruple loads,” she quietly threw back. Her tone suggested that the conversation was quickly coming to an end. “If you will not heed your own medical needs, then perhaps I should go the XO and inform him that you are putting this ship in jeopardy.”

Her voice suddenly became softer and gentler than Gerhardt had yet heard. It was damn near maternal. “Sir, you’re the Chief Engineer of this ship. We need you to be ready for anything, and that means we need you fresh and rested. Why should we bother running these drills if our leader is just going to pass out in the middle of a crisis because he was working himself to death?”

It may have been the logic in her words or the altogether disturbing breach of the glacial wall she normally built up, but Gerhardt nodded in acquiescence. He handed her the padd in his hand and snapped off a textbook salute before turning and walking to the turbolift. '''
 * 04-19-2011, 00:28Christopher Vaughn''':::0255 MST:::
 * Froward Torpedo Bay:::

“Surprise!” Chris shouted into the largely empty torpedo bay as he briskly strolled in. The hand full of crew from the tactical department looked momentarily confused by the XO’s arrival. “Where is the Chief Tactical?” he asked the assorted enlisted.

After a second of the crew looking back and forth between themselves a lone ensign stepped forward, “The Chief is off shift sir…given the time …I think he is probably in his rack.” The young man spoke nervously.

Chris frowned as he tried to recall the officer’s name and face from the crew manifest. Even with only a skeleton crew there was several hundred people assigned to the Atlas and Chris knew better than to try and memorize each of their faces and names. Still he had tried to drill himself on the officers. Sadly the nervous ensign’s face didn’t ring any bells. “Identify yourself ensign.”

“Ensign Mark Rademaker, sir.” He spoke slightly more confidently. “Torpedo Division Officer.”

“Ok fine.” Chris replied, slightly annoyed that the name immediately refreshed his memory and he recalled the face that went with it. “Where is Lt. Harrison? She still Assistant Tactical Officer?"

“Yes sir.” The ensign replied, he fidgeted slightly. “She is also off shift.”

“Well then.” Withdrawing a stopwatch from his pocket he looked back at the team. “A torpedo just jammed in aft launcher #2. Turbolifts are down and you have three minutes to clear it.”

“What?!” the ensign blurted.

“It’s called a drill, Ensign Rademaker. You’ll see more of them. Now you can stand here and chat with me or go help your men clear that jam. The clock is ticking.” Chris pointed toward the enlisted men who were already double timing it aft. After another second of stunned confusion the ensign ran after them.



Chris finished punching in the final results in his PADD. It wasn’t good, but he knew before he ran the drill it wasn’t going to be good. Without turbolifts on a ship this size it would easily take three minutes just to get to the aft bay from the front bay, not even counting dealing with a jammed torpedo. And that was assuming the crew had bothered to practice such maneuvers which they hadn’t. But after today, Chris had a feeling the department would be doing some very different training. After he was finished with his assessment he handed the PADD to the ensign. “Give that to Lt. Castillo when he gets here in the morning.

The ensign looked sick, “This is a failing grade on the drill sir.”

“Yes.”

“But sir…”

“But sir what ensign?” Chris asked arching an eyebrow. “You had three minutes to clear the jam. Five minutes into the drill your team was split in two taking different routes to even get to the aft bay! It took you 21 minutes to complete the drill. I don’t know how your math is ensign but you didn’t break any records. Give the Chief Tactical that report when he comes on shift and let him know I’ll be monitoring his progress in the department. Carry on.”

Leaving the torpedo bay Chris headed toward engineering. He felt bad about failing the tactical department on the drill. It was almost unbeatable. But they would never really push themselves unless they knew how far off the mark they could be. He had similarly failed the operation department a week earlier and was now hoping to hit the engineering department as well.



“Where is the Chief Engineer?” Chris demanded, already anticipating the answer. It was a pointless question. Every department level officer on the boat was in their quarters asleep. It was precisely why Chris picked now to run drills.

“He is in his office sir. Shall I get him?” the crewman offered helpfully.

“OK then where is the Assistant…wait…” Chris stopped in mid-sentence. “What did you just say crewman?”

The crewman looked nervous. “Um…the Chief is in his office.”

“Oh.” He replied, slightly deflated. “Well then. Never mind, as you were crewman. Don’t mention to the Chief I was down here. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”



“A fail sir?” the nurse said in response to receiving the final grade on the surprise drill the XO had just run.

“Yes. Let Dr. Ulrika know when she gets on shift and I trust she will take care of any training issues.”



“Where is the chief engineer?” Chris demanded as he strode into the main engineering bay.

“Just in his office.” A petty officer informed him. “I’ll get him for you sir.”

“No, no, no. Damn it.” Chris snapped. “Never mind. I wasn’t here.” He waved away the petty officer in annoyance.



The doors to the security office opened to reveal Lt. Jackson Lebowski sitting behind his desk with tired eyes and a lopsided smile on his face. His hand clutched a cup of black coffee so thick it might have just been straight coffee beans. The Chief of Security stood slowly. His expression was that off a triumphant man, but the sleep was apparent in his eyes. Almost as if he had only been awake minutes.

“Morning, boss.” Lt. Lebowski said smiling.

“What are you doing here? Department heads typically carry the morning shift to be at staff meetings.” First the engineer never fucking leaves engineering and now this guy, Chris was starting to get pissed.

Lebowski took a deep gulp of coffee and shrugged casually, “Oh. Just thought I might get a feel for the shifts off hours and maybe run a few drills.” Lebowski smiled and raised both eyebrows.

“Riiiiight….” Chris eyed the chief of security suspiciously. “Well, I’ll just leave you too it then.”



“He is still here sir, up in his office.” The petty officer advised.

“Oh, for fuck sake.” Chris rolled his eyes. This was getting ridiculous. “Does he ever leave?”

The petty officer looked around. “Ah…well sir. Its hit and miss to be honest. He has even mentioned stringing up a hammock by the warp core so he will always be on hand.”

Clearly Lt. Rahner needs a life. “This isn’t a goddamn Spanish Galleon. If he slings up a hammock report to me at once. Clear?” the petty officer nodded. “As you were.”

Chris headed toward the turbolift out of engineering and checked his watch. Enough time had passed, might try and hit security again.

As the turbolift doors opened Chris stepped in to find Lt. Lebowski also in the turbolift. “Figures.” He said mostly to himself.

“Heya, boss.” The security officer said with a slight smirk on his face. “I was just heading to the security office. How about you?”

“I was just heading to not the security office.”


 * XO’s Stateroom:::

''XO’s personal log…. '' Crew did well in drills. They might have failed but that was the idea. Give them a goal to work toward. I need to report to maintenance there are a few loose deck plates on deck 7, section 25-6-8. Also, Chief Engineer might be a vampire given his lack of sleep or meal breaks and I am starting to think the Chief of Security is able to shapeshift or cloud people’s minds….maybe both… Also…computer…text note to Tom as follows: Ran drills and won’t be at AM staff meeting. Will be up sometime after 1200. Message ends.” 1215 MST'''
 * 04-19-2011, 01:56Gerhardt Rahner'''Chief Engineer’s Quarters

I don’t know why I bother trying new things, Gerhardt harangued himself as he poured the vanilla bean tea down the reclamation chute at the right of his suite’s replicator. “Coffee, black, extra dark. And a...” ''hmm... something new for lunch?'' “chicken hollandaise.”

The meal formed in the replicator’s receptacle. Gerhardt carried it over to his desk and sat down with his chair halfway between the desk and the workstation behind it. Turning right, he was able take a bite of the chicken hollandaise, immediately regretting it and wondering why he never learned to avoid food experimenting, and turning left, he was able to get back to tinkering with the shiny bit. He hadn’t made much progress beyond examining the spectral analysis which had been utterly pointless. The analysis was still visible on the viewscreen above his workstation:

'Shiny-Bit001 Spectral Analysis: Organometallic Carbide Crystalline Structure containing Carbon, Iron, Gold, and Deuterium, as well as trace amounts of Hydrogen ions at regular intervals and an unknown substance. Error: Unknown trace element produces parallel respondent radiation to spectral analysis. Cannot provide analysis.'

The object still showed a chronometer display which still read 00:33:33. Gerhardt glared at the repeated ‘33’s angrily as though by sheer force of will he might cause it to reveal its mysteries.

“Computer, extrapolate a three-dimensional display of the object’s crystalline structure. Suggest possible covalent bonds for unknown trace element. Allow for-” the door chime interrupted him.

“Enter,” he said. Ayla stormed through the door, her eyes shaming Poseidon's most torrential work. She snapped to attention in front of his desk.

“Permission to speak freely, sir,” she said. Skipping the pleasantries today, I guess Gerhardt thought as he nodded his approval. “Sir, were you aware that the XO performed surprise inspection drills last night?”

“What! Why have I not received a report?” Gerhardt was suddenly outraged and much more involved in the conversation. “How did we do?”

“I don’t know, sir,” Ayla answered with poignant levels of disgust. “Engineering was never drilled. Apparently, Commander Vaughn wanted to drill the departments while the chief was unavailable.” Shit. “In his rack. Asleep!”

They stared each other down for several long moments before Gerhardt finally relaxed and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms in front of him. “Well, Lieutenant, you caught me, though I hardly think filing maintenance completions constitutes work. Will you be taking this to the CMO?”

Her eyes glared a bit harder as she smirked evilly. She reached into a pouch on her hip and retrieved a hypospray. “I already have. This contains a sedative, a rather powerful one I’m told. They use this for heart surgery. And I’ve been authorized by the Chief Medical Officer of this boat to use its single dose on the Chief Engineer of this boat should he decide to risk his health and the health of every soul on-board by exhausting himself.”

Gerhardt’s eyes widened in shock. This was outrageous, unbelievable. He hadn’t met the CMO yet, but surely she couldn’t be such a brainless... no, she couldn’t be. In fact, this wasn’t just unbelievable, it was ludicrous. The CMO didn’t have the authority to deputize other crew members, especially non-medical staff. And if she tried, her career would immediately be non-existent and she would be thrown in a very lonely brig.

“Bullshit,” he calmly replied. “That is not a sedative, and I do not know who gave you a hypospray, but when you finally do go see the CMO, which you have not, try not to implicate anyone who was unaware of your intentions.”

Ayla’s eyes grew furious for a moment as she realized her bluff had been called, but they softened as she put the hypospray back in the pouch. “Fine. You win. Should I report to sickbay or straight to the brig?”

“What, for doing your job?” Gerhardt chuckled. “Hell, if you are willing to go to such great lengths to make me sleep, I look forward to your work in a crisis. You win, Lieutenant. I take the rest of the day off and most of tomorrow. For sleep. Now, will there be anything else?”

“No, sir.”

“Very well. You are dismissed.”

Ayla turned to leave, but stopped and turned back, this time standing loosely. “Actually, sir, there is one more thing. Permission to continue speaking freely, sir?”

“Lieutenant, I think after that exchange, we can maintain a permanent permission to speak freely on your behalf,” Gerhardt smiled.

“In that case, sir, I was wondering if you’d be available for dinner tonight?”

Gerhardt didn’t often look shocked so often in one conversation, but he tried to withhold as much of his expression as he could. “Ayla, I am greatly flattered, but aside from the fact that I am at least twenty years your senior and a complete bore in close social settings, I am also your immediate superior officer. There are just too many ethical dilemmas to even consider it. This is not the Titan and not all of us Starfleet men are Will Riker.”

She smiled at his attempt at humor and nodded. “I understand, sir. I thought I’d ask. I’ll just be going, sir.”

As she turned once more for the door, Gerhardt stopped her. “Ayla. My name is Gerhardt, and I would appreciate it if you would refer to me as such when we are not on duty.”

She grinned broadly. “Yes, of course... Gerhardt. And you’re right: you are a complete bore. A Will Riker joke? Seriously?”
 * 04-19-2011, 22:15Joshua Castillo::USS Atlas::
 * Chief Tactical Officer's Office 0800::

The hot creamy liquid sloshed back and forth inside the white coffee cup with each step that Joshua made against the deck plates, he wanted to take the long way to the office mostly because he never fully gotten a chance to take the entire ship in.

He took a few more sips as he rounded the last corner to his office, Jean woke up eariler than he did and decided to go work out in the ship's gym for a while before reporting for the morning staff meeting; which was fine with him as he had worked out in the gym last night trying to burn out all the extra energy that he had.

As he approached the doors to his office, they slid open and there standing in the doorway was his senior staff already assembled and horrible looks on their faces; Joshua rose an eyebrow trying to figure out why everyone was so glum and he had a feeling that he was going to find out in a minute.

"Good morning everyone," replied Joshua as he took a couple of sips of coffee before sitting down at the assebmly table that was created for just him and his senior staff.

"Good morning lieutenant," came the responses as if they were little school children who had done something naughty and didn't want their school teacher to find out about it.

"As you all know the tactical systems on the Atlas have finally been repaired an..." again Joshua was looking at the worst looking bunch of officers in Starfleet, and he couldn't take anymore...just because he wasn't going to have his day ruined by a bunch of people that looked like they drank prune juice and smoothered in lemon sauce.

"What's the problem?" asked Joshua as one of his officers slid him a data padd.

"There was a drill early in the morning in the forward torpedo room," said Ensign Rademarker and Castillo was caught off guard as he rose one of his eyebrows in confusion.

"I never ordered a drill," replied the chief tactical officer as he picked up the padd on the table and reviewed the information.

"The Executive Officer of the Atlas did," said Rademarker, and Joshua continued looking at the information that the first officer put on the padd, and sipped his cup of coffee at the same time while reading it. Moments of shear silence fell upon the senior staff officers, as they were wondering what their chief was going to say; and even then what was going to happen to them.

"Hmmmm," said Joshua as he continued scrolling through the padd, drinking his coffee reading the commander's remarks and when Joshua was finished he tossed the padd down onto the table before them and finished his cup of coffee.

"Well then Ensign Rademarker it looks like you better get more acquainted with the ship, in fact you all better had" said Joshua.

"What do you mean sir?" asked the young ensign.

"I mean that you and your torpedoe teams both forward and aft are going to be running up and down every single jefferies tube until you are able to get from one point to the other in less than three minutes; after you have accomplished that goal we will then work on fixing jams," said Joshua as he looked at all of his senior officers.

"Sir the Atlas is a massive ship," replied Ensign Colburn.

"That's no excuse, when I was the CEO on the Intergrity I could make down to main engineering in under five minutes and that is with the turbolift shut down and the Integrity is much larger than the Atlas," said Joshua.

"Alright guys, we schedual a few repair drills in the holodeck but until then get your response time down to under three minutes," he said to them.

"Aye sir," came the replies and they all walked out of the room, with Joshua picking up the commander's padd and reading it over again.
 * 04-22-2011, 18:19Jesse Baxendale'''::Cadets Quarters::
 * 0439hrs::'''


 * THUD*

Whilst in the middle of a rather intriguing dream involving lots of alcohol and some extremely beautiful women Jesse managed to roll over in bed one to many times and land flat in belly fashioned style on the floor. It was like a dead weight being dropped from the top of star fleet academy. On the way down in his half sleep he bypassed Cadet Keegan who was asleep in the bunk below him.

Jesse had been forced awake by the full landing and could not see a thing as the room was in complete darkness. Tasting carpet he turned his head to the side trying to decyfer where he was. He soon came to the realisation that he was no longer in his bed and no longer in his dream.

"Shit!" Jesse exclaimed as he moved his hand to his face realising that he could have injured his perfect complexion.

"What the hell happened?" Cadet Keegan said from the darkness. "Computer lights" He added.

"What does it look like? I started there and ended up here. Your the security cadet, you figure out the rest!" Jesse replied, not being the kindest person when first awake.

"Sorry I spoke!" Cadet Keegan replied pulling his star fleet issued duvet over his shoulders and turning to face the wall in as much to say that he was going back to sleep and didnt want to carry on the conversation.

Cadet Baxendale fumbled around the floor for a moment while checking that he hadnt spilt any of his vital organs across the floor in the fall. He was in a bit of pain, which he could tell from the prickling pains shooting around his rib cage.

''Great! In my first few weeks on the ship I break my ribs!!! ''Jesse thought to himself as he pulled himself to his feet.

Glancing at the monitor in the corner of the room he noticed the time and thought it was best to get up anyway. Duties began at 0600 hours and he needed time to complete his morning beauty regime.

Jesse was the type of person who liked to look good and would go to any expense to stay like it. He hadnt contemplated surgery yet but he had his own plans for the future and had already kept details of some recommended doctors incase he needed a few wrinkles filled. As his mother always said; "You never know who you might bump into, so its always best to look your best".

Entering the bathroom he tapped the button to the left hand side of the door and it slid closed behind him. As the lights raised in the room he bowed his head over the sink and began splashing cold water over his face in an effort to awaken himself and tighten his skin. As the water trickled down his face and off the end of his nose and back into the sink he rasied his head to look at himself in the mirror.

Complete and utter devestation came over Jesse who hadnt had a spot or blemish on his face since he was 16. He had just noticed the star fleet grade carpet burn he had to the top right of his forehead. With no hair to cover it he had no option but to leave it as it was and await the heckling and questioning over breakfast in the cadet canteen.

'''::Canteen:: '''Jesse had finished getting ready and was now stood in a turbolift with several other cadets comming from the same deck as him. Althought Jesse had taken a fall he was still feeling pretty happy with himself and was always standing cool and giving off a presence about him. He didnt socialise with any of the other cadets in the lift, he just stood and awaited the lift to reach its destination, safe in the thought he had the most clean and cripst uniform of the shift.
 * 0530hrs::

"Good Morning Jesse! What can............." Cadet Elysa Laana stopped in mid sentence and looked at Jesse. Not in the eyes but on the top of his forhead, admiring and having conversation with the carpet burn which was slowly bruising on Jesse's head. "Um....What happened there?" She continued trying not to laugh and pointing to his face.

"Yes, Thanks Elysa get it out of your system now. It's not big and its not clever to laugh at the mis fortunes of others. Didn't anyone tell you that?" Jesse replied trying to hide his wound with his hand.

"My mum did once, but on this occasion I think even she would laugh at that. Don't take it personally though, you still look 'fine'" She gestured, knowing how much Jesse took care of himself.

"Thanks, Its good to see you care." Jesse said, smiling back at the blonde haired cadet.

"Anyway, can I get you a coffee?" Elysa asked. "Or a bandaid?" She threw in just as Jesse was about to reply.

"Coffee and for you to keep that pretty little head shut!" Jesse pointed to her mouth. "Anyway aren't you supposed to be in shuttle bay one right now?"

"No, they changed my shift early this morning. Something to do with a schedule error. So you have my wonderful company today in navigation control." She smiled back at Jesse.

"Thats cool. At least there is someone I know on my shift. All the others are a bunch of wannabee loosers. I can't deal with that crap."

Elysa laughed as she replicated herself and Jesse a coffee. They took a seat by the raised seating area to drink their coffee and wait for their shift to begin.

Deck 2 Firing Range'''
 * 04-25-2011, 18:53Tom O'Flagherty'''USS Atlas

Tools and parts littered the table while the sounds of phaser fire rhythmically thumped through the room. Three different weapons were in different states of disassemble, while parts for who knows how many more were scattered about. Lt. Jackson Lebowski, the Chief Security officer of the Atlas, perused the different components with interest, unable to discern what they all did. There were extra focus crystals, multiple powercells, and even the conversion kit to make a Mk. III rifle into its SAW variant, but there were three boxes with extraneous wires that seemed completely alien to the man. It looked like a complete work, as long as the wires which had clean, stripped cuts on their ends, were supposed to be sticking out of the top of the component like that.

Standing in the middle stall with a Mk. 23 was the Captain, firing down range at a holographic projection of a Xul Etlu. Most of the shots dissipated against what looked like a shield shimmering over the imag’s center-mass. The shots were about five seconds apart, between each one, it appeared he was changing some setting on the extraneous component just forward of the trigger guard under the barrel of the pistol. After draining another powercell without any results, the Lieutenant decided to step forward.

“Sir, is there something I can help you with?”

Tom turned quickly on his heel, slightly startled by there being another person in the room, and said, “Lientenant. I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were there.”

“I apologize, sir,” Lebowski said as he stepped forward and eyed the weapon in Tom’s hand. “Is there something I can do for you, sir?”

“Not really, Lieutenant. I just wanted to check-out the new modifications Starfleet has come up with to combat the Xul. I helped design the prototypes of these when I was a Security Officer and I saw that the phase modulators had been adapted for the Mk. 23, which I wasn’t able to do during the war.” Crossing the room, Tom set the pistol on the table with the other components, and began to make some adjustments to the weapon with a small tool and tricorder. “New intelligence gathered from the Gettysburg’s return brought some new readings on the Etlu’s ability to alter their shielding.”

The security chief continued to look puzzled as Tom worked on the weapon. “I remember reading that in a report earlier.” Using another tricorder, Lebowski began to scan the other component on the table. It was built to fit into the Mk. III rifle, and it looked as if it could easily be mounted with only a single tool. It took a moment for Tom to realize that the lieutenant had such a puzzled look. He had only spoken with the man once, and that was when he had come aboard at the San Francisco Fleet Yards over Earth. Since then, they had both been at staff meetings, but personal meetings hadn’t been needed. “Is there something bothering you, Lieutenant?”

“Well, sir, I’m slightly puzzled as to why you are up here on the range with these weapons. I’ve heard that you enjoy some time on the range, but this...”

Tom stiffened at the man’s words. “What’s the point, Mr. Lebowski?”

The older lieutenant turned to face his CO, resolved etched on his face. “Sir, with all due respect both to your rank, and your experience, Security is my department, and it should be myself and my team performing these upgrades.”

“I see.” Tom set the pistol on the table and stepped away. “So, I’m interfering with your work, is what you’re saying.”

“‘Interfering’ is not the word I would have used, sir.” Lebowski clasped his hands behind his back and maintained eye contact with Tom. “I know you fought the Xul, and I know you have a lot of experience in countering their specific tactical strengths. It’s just that you are the captain now. You’re not the security chief. It’s my job to make sure that we stay safe, and are able to meet any threat against the crew. It’s your job to make sure I do mine, and then to chew my ass if I don’t, sir.”

Lebowski smiled, hoping to ease the Captain a bit. It was more than obvious that Tom was a little upset by being told he wasn’t exactly welcome. “It’s not that you can’t do the work, Captain. It’s that you don’t have to do the work. That’s what I’m here for.”

“You don’t know the Xul, Lieutenant. A lot of people were killed very quickly because of them.” Memories danced in front of his eyes as Tom relived them in a flash. The sights, the sounds all came back to him and he was life with the final memory of a smoldering Megiddo.

“That doesn’t matter. Security is still my job, sir. If you would like, I will give you daily updates on all drills and the status of weapons upgrades, but there is more important work for you to be doing.” The lieutenant took the Scorpion Carbine from the table and approached the line before activating the holographic representation of the Etlu. Tucking the weapon into his left shoulder, Lebowski fired two quick shots that hit the warrior in the center mass and punched straight through his phased shielding.

He turned back toward Tom, thoroughly pleased with himself. “Thank God, the Scorpion has its own internal phase modulator.”

Tom sighed before nodding to the lieutenant, “I get your point. I’ll be looking for those daily reports. Have a good day, Lieutenant.” And then Tom turned and started for the door.

“Sir,” Lebowski called after him. “I do believe that all officers are allowed range time on the ship. I’ve also heard you’re a pretty good marksman...What do you say we give it a go?”

Tom smiled and turned back toward the table, reaching for the Mk. 23. “I hope you know what you are getting yourself into, Lieutenant. I don’t do these things on the cheap. What do you say...Winner buys food and drinks?”

A post featuring NPC Jackson Lebowski...the Chief of Security
 * 04-28-2011, 01:06Gerhardt Rahner''':::Chief Engineer's Quarters:::
 * 1450 MST:::'''

What the hell does one do with a day off work? It hadn't taken long for Gerhardt to become frustrated with his down time. In two and a half hours, he had grown bored of laying on a holodeck simulated Rigelian beach, shooting billiards, having "social drinks" in the main lounge (which had turned out to mean watching lightweights sip fruity cocktails and gossip about who-gives-a-damn), and leisurely strolling about the ship.

He had been laying at the foot of his bed, feet on the ground and arms stretched out beside him, for the past ten minutes trying to think of some way to occupy his time that didn't involve engineering. This had never been a problem in his pre-Starfleet days. Leisure time happened to passengers on the cruise liners he kept flying and to captains of transport ships and "transport ships" who felt they deserved down time for being clever enough to find cargo or "acquire goods of a questionable nature," as the case may be. But for Gerhardt, he had always kept busy as the ships' sole support crewman. Sometimes that meant a one-legged juggling act to keep a scrapper in one piece; other times it meant pushing a reclaimed first-gen transluminal drive well past its safest capacity. Always excitement, never down time.

Now, he sat in his own, private suite, safe in the knowledge that a small crew of wrench monkeys were keeping the ship running. He tried to imagine what life would be like when they were no longer on a skeleton crew: hundreds of engineers scampering about; filing personnel reports non-stop; fixing more intra-crew tension than damaged warp nacelles. This thought shot him up into a sitting position.

''No more actual engineering?! What the hell have I done?'' He jumped off the bed, looked about himself in a panic, and ran for the door. Before he was close enough to activate the automatic opener, a gleam caught the corner of his eye and he skidded to a stop. The ambient light in the room had caught the shiny bit just right and it shined brilliantly.

Then again, he thought with a mischievous grin, not having to worry about the ship exploding without my constant attention does afford me other opportunities. He thought over all the projects he had set aside since coming aboard the Atlas as her CEO: the results of his test on coaxial drive from the Horizon; the holo-simulation extrapolated from his notes on slipstream drive that had been partially constructed by the alien lifeforms on the Ark Royal; and of course, the shiny bit from his Reassessment of the Atlas. If Ayla insisted on shooing him out of Main Engineering for a day off, Gerhardt could turn his attention to delving into the depths of mystery he'd encountered in his travels.

Where had he been in his examination of the shiny bit? Ah, yes. “Computer, extrapolate a three-dimensional display of the object’s crystalline structure. Suggest possible covalent bonds for unknown trace element. Allow for all 120 known elements, including known ions and isotopes of each. Also speculate other possible combinations of atomic structure,” he said as he walked to his desk and sat down. It wasn't technically work, and he certainly seemed to be relaxed and enjoying himself. Perhaps before the following day's gamma shift, he could have this thing figured out. 0100 Hours Holodeck 1'''
 * 05-03-2011, 19:25Lisbet Ulrika'''USS Atlas

The customary orange grid on its black background gave the room a cold, sterile feel. Tom and Lisbet had been standing there, staring at the walls for almost ten minutes. It seemed they had made a mistake not to plan their short outing together ahead of when they got to the room.

“Do you know how much I had to do in order to get this time off? Where do you want to go?”

“I think I’d like to walk along the Avenue des Champs-Élysées on a perfect summer evening, maybe find a nice cafe for some supper.” Having made up her mind Bet moved to the computer to make her selection. They were suddenly surrounded by the shimmer of lights along the Avenue.

Tom smiled to himself, remembering their first date when they were both cadets on the Gettysburg. "I guess I picked a good one the first time, huh?"

Taking her hand in his, they strolled quietly down the sidewalk while people bustled in and out of the stores all around them. Tom had begun to notice how they were able to spend more and more time around each other without having to say much. He honestly didn't know what that meant, but decided that was something for another time and returned to enjoying the soft fragrances the computer added to the recycled air. The simulated sunshine was warm, bordering on hot, but the sounds, which were so very different from the normal sounds on a starship helped to distract him. All he really thought about was the feel of her hand on his skin.

“You have impeccable taste Darling.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “Can we honeymoon here, I mean the real Paris? I’d love to get lost in the Louvre with you, or maybe the Catacombs...it would be fun to explore with you.”

"We'll see. It is a long trip from The Gamma quadrant to Earth and back. I may have to call in some favors to get that much leave. I thought you would want to go somewhere exotic for our honeymoon anyway. Paris is beautiful but it's on Earth. I hadn't thought much of it but why not one of the pleasure planets or other vacation destinations?"

“We will already be in the area, so I didn’t figure it a long leap from Ireland to France. But if you’d rather somewhere else, we can do that. Risa would be fun, I guess.” She thought for a moment,” Mmmm, sitting on a beach under the sun there, barely dressed.” The smell of food wafting out of a cafe they were passing caught her attention, “Hungry at all? I could use a snack, soft buttery croissant with currant jam and a coffee I think.” She didn’t wait for him to agree, but steered them to a table that was just cleaned off.

Tom dodged the foot-traffic while hanging onto her hand as best he could as she barreled into the cafe. The bus-boy was just walking away as they came to a halt. "I guess this looks like a great seat."

“A lovely seat,” she said watching the sun start to dip behind the Arc de Triomphe at the end of the Avenue. “You know, your XO pulled a surprise drill in Gamma shift the other day. He failed my team there, and rightly so. I saw his report and they were terrible. Do you think he’d mind writing up a training regimen I could implement? I know medical staff don’t always think about security stuff, but I don’t want anyone caught with flat feet again. Not on my watch at least...”

“I’m sure something could be arranged. Chris has been hitting all of the departments. Yours wasn’t the only one to fail, and from the reports on my desk, others are not taking the news as well.” Tom buttered one of the croissants for himself and then dipped it in the coffee before taking a bite. “Lieutenant Solari, in Sciences, didn’t appreciate the way Chris recommended his entire department begin logging time on the firing range. It looks like this is going to be a fun little cruise we were signed up for.”

“I’m just impressed with how enthusiastically he’s taken his new position. Anyway, you know how I feel about combat training for medical staff, but we do need to be prepared. I’ll send him a request first thing I get the chance.” Bet was caught by the way the sun shone in Tom’s hair and felt a swelling of affection for him. “Tell me, where would you like to go for our honeymoon? Honestly, I’d love to hear your ideas.”

Tom tore another piece from his croissant as he looked toward the Arc in the distance. “I’ve never given it much thought, truthfully. Things have been so busy with the new ship and crew that I’ve been swamped. I kind of thought you would make that call and we would just go.”

“No way, as much of this as we can will be a joint effort. This is OUR marriage we’re talking about, and our wedding. I’ll be consulting you on all sorts of odd bits, me and your mother. Please be patient with us though, we’ll be asking the oddest things of you but it’s all important, I promise. Now, where would you like to go?”

It’s easier being her commanding officer. Tom started to squirm under her direct questioning. She was the only person on the ship he had to answer to, in some cases, and this was not the one he wanted her to press. “I’ll be happy to help you with the wedding but the honeymoon just seems like it’s a little farther away. I have no clue what to do. Maybe, we could go to Risa and see the beach, or catch a baseball game on Cestus III. I don’t know.”

“I expect before too long you’ll get some ideas, consider it homework.” She sat back a moment, enjoying the buttery flakiness of the croissant, and marveled at the sparkling lights of the Avenue as the sunlight dimmed further. “This first mission, you’re not expecting anything to happen, right? Milk run, I think its referred to?”

“I’m hoping so. This is where we first encountered the Xul, a full week before they struck Sky Harbour. No one is very sure how mobile they are, and the intelligence gathered by the Gettysburg is sketchy or classified.” He sighed heavily as he slumped back in the chair, his appetite gone. “Add that to all of the dangers of performing salvage operations in a shifting old battlefield, and we could have some real excitement on our hands. We will just have to wait and see.”

“Well, let’s hope nothing too exciting happens. How long until we arrive in the area? Do I have time to initiate the training Chris is going to recommend?”

“Oh, you have plenty of time. It’s a six-week trip to the Epsilon Indi system. I’m sure you can have all duty shifts fully trained before we even reach the halfway point.” Tom picked up his coffee and finished the last little bit. “You know, I don’t have to be back on the Bridge until Beta Shift tomorrow...”

“Oh?”

A JP by Tom and Bet 0730 Hours'''
 * 05-07-2011, 21:01Tom O'Flagherty'''Bridge

Gamma shift still had the watch when Tom hit the deck, to which everyone was very surprised. Some seemed to be expecting a drill or exercise, as if Chris were going to walk into the cavernous room and start yelling scenarios around at the bewildered crew. They were three weeks out of Caloris Station and the new XO had been driving the crew fairly hard, but with excellent results. Across the board, performance in every department was above the norm and the glitches in the ship’s construction were being taken care of. Sections all over the ship were full of patches or reworkings in order to streamline performance, but all systems were running more efficiently than when the ship left Earth.

Tom sat in the command chair, while Lt. JG Savely Aubrey had the CONN, watching over the last half hour of Gamma Shift. With a padd in his left hand, and manipulating the display on his chair arm with his right, he was trying to make heads or tails of some odd information when he finally decided another set of eyes would be helpful.

“Lieutenant Aubrey, I need you to look at something. Have you been reviewing the ship’s specifications like Mr. Vaughn asked?”

The well-tanned human snapped around and responded with her lightly French accented Standard, “Yes sir. I’ve studied them during my down time every day between shifts. What can I do for you, sir?”

“Petty Officer, place the ship’s MSD on Secondary Display Delta, please,” he said as he stood from his chair and made his way to the front of the Bridge while calling Aubrey over. The Vobilite PO2 entered a couple of commands into his console and the MSD displayed perfectly there. “Thank you. Lieutenant, how many decks are on a Vesta-class starship?”

“Nineteen, sir.”

“Correct, and that is what is on this padd from the San Francisco Fleet Yards. Now, count the decks on the MSD in front of you, please.” He waited while she bent down to get closer to the display and started counting. Once she was finished, a confused look crossed her face, and so she counted again, and then a third time. “It’s OK, Lieutenant. You’re not seeing things. I’ve noticed the same discrepancy. According to our MSD we only have 18 decks on this ship...Something is not adding up correctly.”

As they stood there, staring at the evidence, the blast-doors to the Bridge opened and the Alpha Shift personnel began to file in. “That’s all for now, Lieutenant. I’ll keep my eye on it, but you can go. I relieve you.”

“I stand relieved, sir.” Then, she turned promptly on her heel and left the Bridge while Tom turned back towards Lt. P’Rim, who had taken his position at helm.

“Mr. P’Rim, what’s on the docket for this morning?”

“We are set to test the Quantum Slipstream Drive, sir. All senior officers are on duty, and ready for your order.”

“Very well, set the ship to Yellow Alert. I want everyone ready in case we need them.” Tom moved back and settled in his chair as Chris took his position behind the Tactical Officers. Tapping the communications controls on the arm of his chair, he dialed up the Engineering Department.

=/\=“Mr. Rahner, are we ready for today’s big event?”=/\=

'''Main Engineering 0715''' Gerhardt stepped off the turbolift and looked around his department. A big grin crossed his face as he saw all the engineers hard at work. Lt. Cressida's insistence on a day of rest had grown into a weekly routine, Gerhardt would work himself nearly into a stupor for six days, Ayla would kick his ass out of engineering, and he'd spend a day relaxing. Thus far, it had paid off: Gerhardt felt like a new man. He stepped into the pit and let his gaze fall on the MSD. All systems were green. A list of diagnostic tests for the day ran down the right panel of the MSD and the first item caught his attention. His face dropped.

"Cressida!" he yelled, catching the eyes of everyone in the room. His eyes darted about until they finally fell on Ayla who stood by the warp core. She glanced around Main Engineering as she joined Gerhardt in front of the MSD.

"Lieutenant, it seems that we have a major test coming up in a few minutes? Were we not set to test the slipstream drive later this week?" he demanded. "Why was I not informed of this? Are we fully prepared for this test?"

"Yes, sir. We are fully prepared for the quantum slipstream test," she answered calmly. "And I would appreciate it if you would trust me with the department in your absence. Sir."

Gerhardt's eyes deflected downward, then up to the MSD. "I apologize, Ayla. If you are certain that we are prepared, then--"

The communication chime interrulted him. =/\=Mr. Rahner, are we ready for today’s big event?=/\=

Gerhardt looked again at Ayla before tapping his commbadge.

'''Bridge 0733''' =/\=Aye, sir. All systems are green.=/\= Lt. Rahner responded.

Tom breathed a sigh of relief. This was going to be the big test. The new warp core had performed perfectly in standard settings, but this would be the moment the crew would find out if they were going to be spread across the rest of the quadrant in small molecules. “All right, Mr. P’Rim, take us to warp 8. Then we can begin the test.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” the Vulcan replied as he calmly keyed in the commands, and the ship leaped forward with a flash.

"We are now approaching warp 8, sir," P'Rim said as he activated the holographic interface for his console. In front of the Vulcan appeared a two solid spheres, which he began to manipulate. Tom had no clue what they did since it was P'Rim's choice of interaction.

"How long before we can engage the slipstream drive, Lieutenant?" Tom's knuckles were white as he gripped the chair, and so he relaxed and flexed them.

The stoic helm officer turned a gaze towards the engineering station where Mason York picked up his cue. "We will be ready in 20 seconds, sir."

"Begin countdown, Mr. P'Rim."

The slow methodical countdown rang through the Bridge as everyone held their collective breath. Even Chris Vaughn looked as if he were feeling some of the tension, which only seemed to grow as P’Rim grew closer to the mark. “Five...four...three...two...one...mark.”

In the center of the viewscreen a small, white dot began to grow. The warp-streaked stars began to pass the ship at greater speeds while the dot continued to fill the screen. From space, it looked as if the slender ship was being drawn into an ever-lengthening thread as it approached the threshold off its bow. Once the nose of the Vesta-class starship touched the event horizon of the quantum threshold, the ship was sucked inside, closing the hole behind it instantly.

On the Bridge, the viewscreen was bathed in blue with gold streaks, but these weren’t like the lines of warp distorted stars, instead they were continuous lines that moved passed the ship like lines on a candy cane. Tom was intrigued by what he was seeing and keyed in the communicator for Engineering again.

=/\=Mr. Rahner, this is the Captain. What exactly am I looking at on our viewer?=/\=

There was a pause, likely for Gerhardt to pull up the main screen view on the station at which he was working, before he answered. =/\=That is subspace, sir. I wish I could say that this is exactly what it looks like, but subspace does not have an actual “appearance” as you and I understand it. What you are seeing is the viewer’s interpretation into a visual spectrum of the quantum field being emitted by the quantum phase variance matrix through the main deflector interacting with the subspace “thread” the slipstream drive creates. =/\=

=/\= And what’s causing the gold streaks? =/\=

Another pause as the ship shook lightly. =/\= Er, sir, I can either guide this tour or get us through it, but in this physical universe I lack the capacity to do both simultaneously. Rahner out. =/\=

Tom turned to Chris, who was still standing next to his chair staring at the screen. “Did you get all that?”

“Of course...what...you didn’t?”

While the light banter irritatingly continued around him, Mason York reached into his pocket and thumbed the small remote again. He knew the plan; walking his steps for the past few weeks, making sure he had found the quickest path to the shuttle bay had insured his escape route was set. There wouldn’t be much time after he activated the sequence to cover the distance, but it was now or never. Taking a deep breath, he punched the remote into activation, and waited.

Suddenly, the ship was hurtled forward, and the inertial dampeners weren’t able to concentrate on everything. People were thrown from their stations, and the XO was launched from the level behind tactical, crashing to the main floor below. Alarm klaxons blared as the lights went red.

'''Main Engineering 0745'''

Rahner tapped the commbadge a little harder than usual. He would say that something wasn’t going right, but as there hadn’t been enough research into the inner workings of quantum slipstream, he didn’t have a baseline to work against. The quantum phase variance matrix was maintaining a steady randomization of the quantum field which was holding against the massive subspace forces pushing them through the slipstream conduit; the deflector was functioning perfectly, somewhat surprising considering the extreme conditions it was facing; but there was something wrong.

Gerhardt could feel it in the hum of the ship. It was like a minor chord being played by one cello in a full orchestra, something familiar that he’d heard before, but usually more of a nuisance than an actual mistake. What the hell is that?

He motioned to Lt. Cressida who swiftly walked over to him, a look of concern painted across her face. “You feel it, too?” she asked quietly, not wanting to alarm anyone. “Something familiar, but... terrifying?”

Before Gerhardt could answer, the inertial dampeners were strained as the ship shot forward, rapidly increasing speed. Engineers were hurled around and into their stations, Gerhardt and Ayla only just managing to catch themselves from falling. Red alert lights and alarms went off all across the ship. When the dampeners regained control, Gerhardt sent Ayla around to check for injuries. Every engineer who hadn’t been on-duty started flooding into Main Engineering and Gerhardt was already scanning the MSD, muttering under his breath.

“Shit,” he cursed softly. Ayla came up behind him.

“Sir, the crew is uninjured, and I fear I may know where the problem is, though I’m not sure what.”

“Plasma conduits, right?” Gerhardt answered. “The warp core is pushing too much power to the quantum matrix, I think.” He turned to the gathered engineers who weren’t already locked into a work station. “I can already tell you we are short on time, so listen up. Something has malfunctioned in the plasma conduits and we are on our way to full warp core breach. We have to--"

"Eject the core," Ayla said, stunned and softly, just audible over Gerhardt. She had bunch crouched over a station while Gerhardt spoke and had clearly come to a conclusion. All eyes now widely stared at her, some full of disbelief, some horror. "Sir, Gerhardt, we don't have time to solve this and survive."

"No. No, damn it, no. We are not ejecting the core, especially not in slipstream," Gerhardt refused adamantly.

=/\=Mr. Rahner, report! What the hell is going on?=/\=

Gerhardt stared directly into the assistant chief's eyes and she stared right back, her eyes filled with the fear that only comes from certitude. "Sir, we have just enough time to drop out of slipstream and eject the core. We can't risk ejection in slipstream and we don't have time to solve this right now."

He didn't have time, but trust would do. "Drop us out of slipstream," he commanded and tapped his commbadge.

=/\=Captain, we are dropping out of slipstream. We must eject the core.=/\=

Already Gerhardt could feel the ship shudder as they broke through the barrier between subspace and normal spacetime. It wasn't like dropping out of warp. Entering the quantum slipstream involved penetrating the subspace barrier with a planned exit point already beginning to form. A premature exit required punching through the barrier again, like breaking out of a pipeline from the middle, and stopping the special quantum varience matrix almost exactly after leaving subspace.

When the violent exit was complete, Gerhardt shouted, "Computer, security override Rahner-foxtrot-8139. Eject the warpcore."

The containment shield shot up, completely covering the core and closing off the plasma conduits. Alarms sounded over the red alert klaxxons before a loud woosh signaled the core exiting the bottom of the ship. The red alert klaxxons silenced, but the lights would stay red until the captain signaled the all clear or, in this case, yellow alert.

The ship gave a hard shutter as her power systems reset from the main core to secondary reserves. Tom and Chris were standing and shouting different orders to separate departments as the Atlas reoriented itself to normal space. "Helm, bring us about and engage impulse engines...Tactical begin a search for any possible threats...Operations, I need a fix on our location...Engineering, get to the bottom of what just happened."

And as fast as the orders went out, responses began to come back from those departments when Lt. Johanna Mari cut everyone off at the same time, "Sir, I've got approaching unidentifieds surrounding the core. They are locking on a tractor beam and going to warp!"

"Get me a phaser lock, Castillo, and fire immediately," but before the tactical officer could carry out his orders, the small ships were gone.

A JP with Gerhardt Rahner featuring Chris Vaughn and Joshua Castillo
 * 05-10-2011, 13:58Joshua Castillo"Damn it," yelled Joshua as his fist slammed against the tactical console as he watched from the tactical display sensors as the small dots which represented the ships that warped disappered from his screen. He wanted to score at least a few shots on the escaping ships, but something that stuck out in his mind was that this happened all to quickly; how would ships know the exact location of where the Atlas was going to be and how did they react so quickly to tractor a warp core that was ejected only moments ago.

"Captain, something about this attack isn't right...no one should have been able to react that quickly when we ejected our warp core," Joshua replied as he set the tactical sensors to proximity mode to alert him of a nearby warp signature approaching quickly on their position.
 * 05-12-2011, 12:33Laramie Walking BearLaramie pushed herself up from the floor. Her nose was aching, and she could feel hot fluid running from it. Dazed, she brought a hand up to her nose and looked through blurred vision at the liquid red stain on her palm. Spitting onto the deck and not wanting to wipe her hand onto the floor or her uniform, the cadet staggered to her feet and began looking for a cloth to clean herself with and maybe staunch the flow of blood.

What the hell had just happened? Did they break the ship already? It was top-of-the-line, state-of-the-art, new-car-smell fresh! How could they have broken it? Grabbing a small white cloth, she sank back down to the floor, applying pressure against her nose and tilting her head back to try and stop the flow. Closing her eyes made her dizzy enough to wonder if she hadn't given herself a concussion when she hit the floor. She spat again.

The quantum slipstream drive. That must have been it. It was still experimental technology. Laramie had hoped to have been near a viewscreen when the Atlas engaged it, but her shift duties meant she was spending that time in the lab running diagnostics on sequencing equipment. Chief Science Officer Solari had explained it as "the lethal combination of being assigned to an understaffed starship and being the low rung on the totem pole." Laramie had taken an instant liking to her superior officer. His sense of humor, sarcasm, and mangling of phrases made her feel at ease. When she had first come aboard and been welcomed by Solari, they had spent a good amount of the time discussing alien anthropology, and discovered they each had a long-standing love of learning how alien species evolved. Laramie had yet to see Lieutenant Maya, who was assigned to the Beta shift, but Laramie looked forward to it; she had never met a Psychon before.

Laramie pulled the blood-soaked cloth from her face and tested her nose with her free left hand. There were a couple of small red dots, but the free-flow seemed to have stopped.

"Maybe I'm cursed," she said out loud. "Two ships, two different times it almost got exploded as soon as I got aboard. I wonder if the Atlas has a psychic. Or a spiritualist. Or a voodoo priestess. Or a Screamin' Jay Hawkins record."

Still feeling the effects of the impact when the Atlas was pulled from the slipstream, Laramie exited the lab and headed for Sickbay.