Stardate 2365.02.11 (Thursday - 42143.8 )
USS Peregrine; Shuttle Sierra One - 11:07+

Toriak considers the idea of beaming naked, wounded people into the extremely tight quarters of the shuttlecraft. As these thoughts are considered the Vulcan nurse looks down at the medical away mission triage pack he has cradled in his lap and a thought occurs to him.

"Sir," he begins. "Reports from the Bridge indicate that those we are en route to bring into custody are severely injured. The information I've received would suggest that the five life forms we are tasked with recovering are barely alive. Perhaps stripping them of their dignity might not be necessary."

Addressing Nurse Toriak, "I regret having to think this way but I have encounter extremist before. I as I see it this was a small crew on a suicide mission to inflame conditions and ensure war instead of peace..as long as they are still alive they will continue to try and achieve their goal,. If they were to overpower us and use a Federation craft to attack, even a shuttle, it would inflame conditions perhaps beyond repair,,We are not facing a noble foe.. we do not have the chance to search and disarm them. I must consider your and the mission's safety before the discomfort of the survivors. ,,. This is not a humanitarian mission.. our main goal is to identify who made the attack,the why of it will have to come with further investigation. No offense Toriak, but I'd rather have one more security crewman over a nurse."

PO Tolaris pauses in his programming and swivels in his chair to better face the lieutenant. "Additionally, sir. The confines of this vessel will severely restrict their movement. Strictly speaking," the Vulcan tilts his head to the left in an attempt to affect some appearance of humanity, "the captain would not have likely sent a shuttle—heavy though it may be—manned by a mere four Starfleet personnel to retrieve five terrorists if he thought them dangerous still.

John addressed the transporter specialist, "PO..the Captain sent nearly the equivalent of two of his four security team on this mission. That alone shows me his concern. Nearly half of Peregrine's security is out here to identify and bring back these survivors.. that is significant."

Tolaris considered the Lieutenant's comments then replied, "The transporter sensors will automatically detect any harmful substances such as those that would be used in an explosive device and if it will ease your concern, I can retain the life forms' bio-signature in the transporter buffers long enough to perform a full scan of the molecular data. Should there be any sign of weaponry within their signature, we can address the situation at that time."

"Now that's why I asked for a transporter specialist,you know best what you can do with these beams. If that can be done then make it so." John nodded to the PO.

"Perhaps," Toriak adds, "we can erect a level two force field encompassing the latter three quarters of the shuttle. If you and I, sir, move up against the backs of the front seats we might be able to create a limited simulation of a brig cell to contain any potential threat while we further assess the life forms' condition."

"That's a good thought," John acknowledged. "But just a meter beyond the platform should due. If what Tolaris says is how things work then containment to just beyond the transporter platform should due. If after they are all retrieved, they can be isolated and confined. If nothing else they will be restrained to the bulkhead."

"A decision bettuh be made soon," Megan quips, "we've no' much time left before we come within range o' the Stormspike."

"It's done pilot..time for you and Tolaris to work your magic,. Security, weapons on stun..if they make any aggressive moves take no chances and put them down."

As the Sierra came into transporter range Tolaris ran his scan and locked on to the first survivor, "Sir,engaging transporter."

The shimmer of the beam filled the transport platform as the first survivor was pulled to shuttle.

Stardate 2365.02.11 (Thursday - 42143.8 )
USS Peregrine; Shuttle Sierra One - 11:10
Addressing Nurse Toriak, Lt. Reid states, "I regret having to think this way but I have encounter extremist before. I as I see it this was a small crew on a suicide mission to enflame conditions and ensure war instead of peace..as long as they are still alive they will continue to try and achieve their goal, If they were to overpower us and us a Federation craft to attack, even a shuttle, it would enflame conditions perhaps beyond repair. We are not facing a noble foe. We do not have the chance to search and disarm them. I must consider yours and the mission's safety before the discomfort of the survivors. This is not a humanitarian mission. Our main goal is to identify who made the attack. The why of it will have to come with further investigation. No offence, Toriak, but I'd rather have one more security crewman over a nurse."

PO Tolaris pauses in his programming and swivels in his chair to better face the lieutenant while, true to Vulcan form, Toriak appears to take no offense from the mission lead's comments. "Additionally, sir. The confines of this vessel will severely restrict their movement. Strictly speaking," the Vulcan transporter specialist tilts his head to the left in an attempt to affect some appearance of humanity, "the captain would not have likely sent a shuttle—heavy though it may be—manned by a mere four Starfleet personnel to retrieve five terrorists if he thought them dangerous still."

John addressed the transporter specialist, "PO, the Captain sent nearly the equivalent of two of his four security team on this mission. That alone shows me his concern. Nearly half of Peregrine's security is out here to identify and bring back these survivors. That is significant."

Tolaris considered the Lieutenant's comments then replied, "The transporter sensors will automatically detect any harmful substances such as those that would be used in an explosive device and if it will ease your concern, I can retain the life forms' biosignature in the transporter buffers long enough to perform a full scan of the molecular data. Should there be any sign of weaponry within their signature, we can address the situation at that time."

"Now that's why I asked for a transporter specialist. You know best what you can do with these beams. If that can be done then make it so." John nods to the PO.

"Perhaps," Toriak adds, "we can erect a level two force field encompassing the latter three quarters of the shuttle. If you and I, sir, move up against the backs of the front seats we might be able to create a limited simulation of a brig cell to contain any potential threat while we further assess the life forms' condition."

"That's a good thought," John acknowledges. "But just a meter beyond the platform should due. If what Tolaris says is how things work then containment to just beyond the transporter platform should due. If after they are all retrieved, they can be isolated and confined. If nothing else they will be restrained to the bulkhead."

"A decision bettuh be made soon," Megan quips, "we've no' much time left before we come within range o' the Stormspike."

"It's done pilot. Time for you and Tolaris to work your magic. Security, weapons on stun, if they make any aggressive moves take no chances and put them down."

As the Sierra came into transporter range Tolaris runs his scan and locks on to the survivors, "Sir, engaging transporter."

The shimmer of the beams filled the transport platform as the first survivor was pulled to shuttle. Nearby, Crewman Toriak turns and uses the computer panel behind his head to activate the forcefield.

"No weapons or categorically dangerous chemicals appear to be present that cannot be filtered out by the transporter, sir." Tolaris keeps his eyes on the controls in front of him balancing the aliens' molecular matter in the buffer cells. "Shall I continue to transport?"

(OOC: Assuming John will give permission.)

"Acknowledged," PO Tolaris runs his fingers along the sliding control and the beams begin to take shape, eventually completely materializing behind the forcefield Toriak has erected.

There are five beings in burnt and damaged clothing of simple make. Tunics of varying shades and earthen hues worn over breeches and knee-high boots. By clothing alone the beings are unidentifiable. There's no hiding the skin tone though. Orange to reddish brick in color with a ridged heads that are partially bald and varying lighter colors of singed hair, these are definitely Rytaini.

"Life signs are stable," Toriak frowns. "Except for one. Sir, I need to drop the force field to save this man's life." The nurse's request is immediately followed by a dead tone and the Vulcan raises his eyebrows in question.

"Where,?" One of the new shuttle occupants raises his head and stares with hollow ruddy brown eyes at the Starfleet personnel in confusion. Then, his eyes widen and he barks, "For strength and honor!" He immediately slides the forefinger and thumb of his right hand into his belt. Somewhere between coughing and unconsciousness, all but one of the others repeat, "Strength and honor," and reach into their belts as well.

(OOC: Assuming John orders dropping the forcefield.)

When the order comes through hot on the heels of Toriak's request, the force field is dropped. Security stand at ready, pulse rifles held to at the ready, unsure of how to handle the captives' actions. Nurse Toriak immediately slips past the barrel of a rifle and drops next to the motionless Rytainian, medical tricorder in hand.

"Do not move!" one of the security personnel growls, but Toriak isn't paying attention as to who.

Scanning the prisoner, Crewman Toriak keeps the frown on his face. The results aren't promising. Brain damage and multiple internal hemorrhages have already killed the man. If they were back on the Peregrine, there might be a chance of reviving the terrorist, but here,? Not a chance.

"Drop it!" Another voice yells and there's commotion all about Toriak as the security personnel take action.

"Crewman Toriak to the Peregrine. Lock onto my signal and transport one Rytaini immediately to sickbay."

(OOC: Assuming John is giving orders and taking action, I'm going to be kind of vague.)

PO Tolaris turns in his chair to watch the drama unfold and see if he needs to participate in the mayhem. Charred and injured, the Rytainian terrorists produce small, white pills from their belts and are rapidly placing them in their mouths, chewing, and swallowing. Gold shirted crewmen fire weapons set to stun, others just leap forward and try to manually pry the pills from the aliens' mouths. Toriak's transporter request activates around the body of the Rytaini directly in front of him adding to the swirl of motion.

"This one is foaming at the mouth!"

"Here, too!"

Scrambling past the place where the body recently vanished, Toriak retrieves from his flailing bag a physiostimulator, placing it on the convulsing chest of the nearest prisoner while scanning with his medical tricorder. He can see the others thrashing about as the drug they've ingested takes effect, but is helpless to stop the results. The physiostimulator activates and the body jerks more violently, back arching against the charge only to drop to the floor once more. The Rytainian's eyes roll back into his skull and his head twists with such violence that the Vulcan can hear the snapping of the man's neck. Returning to his bag, Toriak retrieves another device and like an entertainer at a table, swiftly replaces the physiostimulator with the protodynoplaser. He drops the tricorder and uses his left hand to hold the shoulder down while he runs the protodynoplaser across the dying man's throat. The device's chirping grows louder.

"This one's gone," a worried voice reports.

"We've lost another."

"Stunning them did nothing to stop the spread of that poison," PO Tolaris' calm voice reports.

"It is a very concentrated dose delivered through nanotechnology that shoots through the system at an accelerated pace," Toriak replies, dropping back on his haunches and allowing his hands to fall into his lap. "This one is dead as well. There was nothing I could do."

"The transporter did not show the pills as dangerous. Interesting." Tolaris returns to his console to study the report.

"It likely wouldn't," Toriak begins putting his tools away. "The tricorder shows that this blend of chemicals is biological and specifically designed to work with the Rytainian biology. As there were no Rytaini aboard this vessel at the time of the transport, the computer would not have quarantined the pills."

"Well," Megan coughs. "As excitin' as tha' was, I'm showin' the Coronado movin' int' attack position. Yer orders, sir?"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Stardate 2365.02.11 (Thursday - 42143.8 )
USS Peregrine; Deck 1 - Main Bridge - 11:10

"Sir," Dio leans into his console and then looks back at Silas. "We've just received a Rytaini in sickbay at Crewman Toriak's request. The crewman is with the heavy shuttle." His board beeps again drawing his attention back to his screen. "Reports from the shuttle indicate that they retrieved the five survivors from the Stormspike but all of them have died."

"All but the one transported to my sickbay, Mr. Lasad," Dr. Moore corrects with her brisk accent. "If you'll excuse me, I believe that I am needed below."

As the Chief Medical Officer makes her way to the turbolift, Dio raises his eyebrows and settles back in his chair. "It would appear that she is correct, sir. Reports from sickbay indicate that they've been able to revive the patient.

Chief Science Officer Sh'iroalnas hastens a glance over her shoulder at the hubbub taking place behind her. Her scans are showing that the Stormspike is in serious duress and there's a high percentage chance that explosion is imminent. She's looking for a place in the conversation to insert her discovery.

"Captain," Lt. Lasad declares in unison with Lt. Berk. "The Coronado is not drawing off. It is continuing its attack run."


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stardate 2365.02.11 (Thursday - 42143.8 )
USS Peregrine; Shuttle Sierra One - 11:10
There are five beings in burnt and damaged clothing of simple make. Tunics of varying shades and earthen hues worn over breeches and knee-high boots. By clothing alone the beings are unidentifiable. There's no hiding the skin tone though. Orange to reddish brick in color with a ridged heads that are partially bald and varying lighter colors of singed hair, these are definitely Rytaini. Reid realizes that Captain's guess had been right and now they had the proof. Only after an interigation would they find the "Why" behind the sneak attack.

"Life signs are stable," Toriak frowns. "Except for one. Sir, I need to drop the force field to save this man's life."

The bodies laying in front of them appeared to be no threat. "Drop the shields."

When the order comes through hot on the heels of Toriak's request, the force field is dropped. Security stand at ready, pulse rifles held to at the ready, unsure of how to handle the captives' actions. Nurse Toriak immediately slips past the barrel of a rifle and drops next to the motionless Rytainian, medical tricorder in hand.

"Do not move!" one of the security personnel growls, but Toriak isn't paying attention as to who.

Scanning the prisoner, Crewman Toriak keeps the frown on his face. The results aren't promising. Brain damage and multiple internal hemorrhages have already killed the man. If they were back on the Peregrine, there might be a chance of reviving the terrorist, but here,? Not a chance.

"Drop it!" Another voice yells and there's commotion all about Toriak as the security personnel take action.

"Crewman Toriak to the Peregrine. Lock onto my signal and transport one Rytaini immediately to sickbay."
Their first moves looked as if they were reaching for weapons. John and nurse Toriak realized there was something else as the Rytainians pulled pills from the belts as muttered, "For strength and honor!".
But John was caught off guard when to rescued crew of the Stormspike started taking their own lives. He had prepared to put down a fanatical suicide squad but not a fanatical squad suicide.

"Stop them,don't let them swallow those things."

PO Tolaris turns in his chair to watch the drama unfold and see if he needs to participate in the mayhem. Charred and injured, the Rytainian terrorists producing small, white pills from their belts and are rapidly placing them in their mouths, chewing, and swallowing. Gold shirted crewmen fire weapons set to stun, others just leap forward and try to manually pry the pills from the aliens' mouths. Toriak's transporter request activates around the body of the Rytaini directly in front of him adding to the swirl of motion.

"This one is foaming at the mouth!"

"Here, too!"

Scrambling past the place where the body recently vanished, Toriak retrieves from his flailing bag a physiostimulator, placing it on the convulsing chest of the nearest prisoner while scanning with his medical tricorder. He can see the others thrashing about as the drug they've ingested takes effect, but is helpless to stop the results. The physiostimulator activates and the body jerks more violently, back arching against the charge only to drop to the floor once more. The Rytainian's eyes roll back into his skull and his head twists with such violence that the Vulcan can hear the snapping of the man's neck. Returning to his bag, Toriak retrieves another device and like an entertainer at a table, swiftly replaces the physiostimulator with the protodynoplaser. He drops the tricorder and uses his left hand to hold the shoulder down while he runs the protodynoplaser across the dying man's throat. The device's chirping grows louder.

"This one's gone," a worried voice reports.

"We've lost another."

"Stunning them did nothing to stop the spread of that poison," PO Tolaris' calm voice reports.

"It is a very concentrated dose delivered through nanotechnology that shoots through the system at an accelerated pace," Toriak replies, dropping back on his haunches and allowing his hands to fall into his lap. "This one is dead as well. There was nothing I could do."

"The transporter did not show the pills as dangerous. Interesting." Tolaris returns to his console to study the report.

"It likely wouldn't," Toriak begins putting his tools away. "The tricorder shows that this blend of chemicals is biological and specifically designed to work with the Rytainian biology. As there were no Rytaini aboard this vessel at the time of the transport, the computer would not have quarantined the pills."

"Well," Megan coughs. "As excitin' as tha' was, I'm showin' the Coronado movin' int' attack position. Yer orders, sir?"

"First we have to get the video of the transport to Lt. Berk."

Tapping his comm. badge, "Reid to Berk..stand by for a video transmission. The crew of the Stormspike were Rytains.. the video and the transported Rytain to sickbay will prove it,..Sir if you can get it to the Coronado it should change their minds,in the mean time we are putting ourselves between them and the our nearest Kuldar vessel"

John glanced over to Megan, her eye brows raised and a surprised look on her face. "Oh, yeah..it's time for us to be the big damn heroes. We may not be much but we are Federation and the Coronado will have to think hard to justify swatting us away. ,Petty Officer take defensive position between the Coronado and that Kuldar vessel ,,,..get us in harms way,..I just hope the Kuldar don't decide fire first,especially at us."

Megan let out a loud sigh, "Big damn heroes?.....well I remember playing that game at NCO school, so,hold on..we may experience some slight turbulence , then explode."

Nurse Toriak frowns, "Shinny."

Reid looked at both and smiled,"If we get back in one piece do I ever have a hologame for you."

Stardate 2365.02.11
USS Peregrine, Main Bridge - 11:12

The engines of the Peregrine roared to life and the frigate rapidly closed the gap between itself and the menacing shape of the Coronado.  Silas hoped against hope that Jacobs would save his fury for the coming court martial, that the other captain would dig up some scrap of conscience or restraint and call off this insane attack run.

As the gap narrowed, Drake realized that his hope was futile. The Coronado never deviated from her line, and moments later, Lasad's voice confirmed the Captain's fears.

"Captain, the Coronado has locked on to a Kuldar vessel and is closing to optimal firing range."  The Ops officer's voice was understandably tight.

Silas nodded.  "Lieutenant Berk, lock our phasers on the Coronado.  Are those calculations complete?"

The TAC officer paled and swallowed before answering.  "Aye, Captain.  Phasers are locked on.  Calculations are complete."

"Captain," Lasad interjected, his voice several notes higher than before, "the Coronado is charging her phasers!"

Drake's mouth was suddenly dry; Jacobs was forcing his hand.  Silas knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if he gave this next order, a penal colony would be the absolute best outcome for him.  But if he didn't give the order, innocent sentients would die... and those deaths would at least partially be on him for lacking the courage to act.

The Captain swallowed.  "Mister Berk, fire."

The following moment felt like an eternity passed until the orange-red beam leapt from the Peregrine and lit up the shields protecting the Coronado, and within seconds was joined by two more. The older Miranda class vessel's deflectors gamely tried their best, dissipating the energy around the surface of the shield bubble, but they were no match for the Saber class frigate's damage output.  Berk kept the energy pouring out, and within a startlingly small window, the diplomatic ship's shields collapsed and she pitched to the side.

"Target shields are down, Captain," Berk spoke rather unnecessarily.  "Minor hull damage inflicted."

"We are being hailed from the Coronado," Lasad spoke.  After a nod from Drake, the viewscreen shifted to the bridge of the other Federation vessel.

Front and center was the visage of Captain Jacobs, whose skin was mottled purple with rage.  The man had been angry before, but now he was truly apoplectic.  "You filthy piece of dog s***!" He spat.  "You treacherous bastard!"  Spittle dripped from the lips of the Coronado CO's lips as he ranted.  "When this is over, I will hang you myself!"

Lasad spoke up.  "Captain, the Coronado is changing course, she's coming around."

Then Berk joined in, a note of panic in his voice.  "Captain, they have locked phasers on us... they are firing!"

An instant later, the deck pitched from the force of the blow.  "Direct hit, sir!  Shields are holding." Lasad reported.  "No physical damage, shields at ninety-two percent."

His voice more even, the TAC officer spoke up again.  "Captain, the Coronado is charging for another shot..."

Drake's voice cut through the chaos.  "Captain Jacobs, stop this madness at once," he ordered in a commanding tone.  "This has gone far enough!"

The deck pitched again.  "Another direct hit, sir," the OPS chief reported.  "Shields are holding, down to eighty-three percent."

On the viewscreen, Jacobs sneered.  "What a surprise.  The coward is not prepared to deal with the repercussions of his actions.  Did you honestly think that I would be bullied by the likes of you, mister Drake?"

Once again, the deck pitched.  "Captain!" The Risan OPS chief exclaimed.  "Sir, one of the shield generators has failed!  Backup coming online, overall shield capacity down to fifty-nine percent!"

Enough was enough.

"Lieutenant Berk," Drake spoke calmly, "lock phasers on the Coronado.  Target their phaser bank.  On my mark, remove their offensive capabilities, please."

"Phasers locked on, sir," Berk reported.  "Captain, you do know that with no defector shields, even localized phaser damage will likely cause loss of life aboard the Coronado."

Michelle's face leapt to mind, looking the way Silas had last seen her in their last conversation.  The smudges of grime across her nose and cheek as she reported the damage to him aboard the Alexander.  That same face, so pale, a half hour later.  Those blue eyes, once dancing and lively, fixed and empty as they stared into nothingness.

These were not abstract concepts.  These were real people whose lives would end - through no fault of their own - if he gave the next order.  Silas wouldn't need to worry about which penal colony he would occupy; once he took Federation lives like this, his death warrant would surely be signed.

But if he did nothing, the Peregrine shields would soon fail, and then... there would be loss of life on board his own ship.  Followed by loss of life around the system as Jacobs pressed on in his madness.

The anger seemed to evaporate from Drake's blood, to be replaced by a strange sense of serenity.  "Captain Joshua Jacobs," Silas spoke aloud in a measured, almost disinterested tone, "as lawful commander of this battle group, I hereby find you unfit for duty.  You are relieved of command of the USS Coronado, effective immediately.  Commander Bethany Farr will now assume command of your vessel.  My phasers are locked onto your own; if you do not comply, I will render your weapons useless.  If that is not sufficient incentive to ensure your acquiescence, I will move on from there to cripple your engines."

Black humor tickled the edge of Silas' consciousness, causing the corner of his mouth to turn up ever so slightly.  After all, they can't kill me twice...

Jacobs, if possible, turned a darker shade of purple.  "You wouldn't dare!" he shouted.  "Even your treason does not run this deep!  Our shields are down, thanks to you!  If you fire on this vessel, you will surely kill Starfleet personnel!"

Drake nodded his head ever so slightly.  "You are correct, Captain... and I will regret each and every one of their deaths for the short remainder of my own life.  But you leave me no choice.  I cannot allow you to harm my own personnel, nor can I allow you to kill innocent Kuldarians."  His voice deadly calm, he continued. "You have ten seconds to comply."

Jacobs sputtered in fury.  "I... I will do no such thing!  You are bluffing!  You will lose your commission, your freedom, your life!  For what?  Some ignorant, backwater sentients too stupid to take advantage of the dilithium under their noses?  Why, I will…"

Silas raised his hand.  "Your time is up.  Mister Berk, fire on the Coronado pha..."

"STOP!" rang a feminine voice from the bridge of the Coronado.  "Captain Jacobs, I relieve you.  Please leave the bridge at once."  Commander Farr appeared next to her commanding officer.

"Not now, Farr!" Jacobs roared.  "I don't have time for your nonsense right now, I..."

Commander Farr interrupted.  "Captain, I must insist.  She gestured to her left, and a gold-suited officer appeared with phaser drawn and leveled at the Captain.  "Ensign Phillips will escort you to your quarters, sir.  Please do not force us to stun you."

Jacobs gaped, opened and closed his mouth twice as if to speak, but no sound came out.  For the briefest of moments, his muscles tensed, and it looked as if he might attack the security officer.  But the moment passed, and the now former CO of the Coronado deflated.  His shoulders slumped, and the Captain allowed himself to be led towards the turbolift.  For a brief moment, he paused and looked back over his shoulder at the viewscreen.  "You will burn for this," he spat.  "The both of you."  The ensign then placed a hand none too gently on Jacobs' shoulder, and the two disappeared into the lift.

As she settled into the command chair, a fairly pale Farr barked orders.  "Phasers off line, Lewis.  Helm, all stop."  She then turned her focus to the viewscreen.  "What are your orders, Captain Drake?"

Silas allowed the breath he had not realized he was holding to escape.  "Hold position for now.  Let's see if we can still salvage this thing.  Drake out."

The viewscreen cut away to a view of the Gamera system and the ships in it.  Drake hoped that no one could see the trembling that suddenly overtook him as he sank into the command chair.

"Captain," Lasad reported, "several ships from both sides are moving to engage one another.  Weapon systems are armed... it's about to become a full battle out there."

"Open hailing frequencies, broadcast on all available channels," the Captain snapped.

"NOW HEAR THIS!" Drake bellowed.  "This is Captain Drake of the USS Peregrine.  All Rytain and Kuldar forces will stand down AT ONCE.  Power down your weapons systems and hold your positions!  This is a peace summit, and as God is my witness, there WILL be peace talks - terrorist attack or no!  If any vessel makes an aggressive move of any sort, I will cut through it like paper.  The delegations will proceed as planned to the rendezvous at the station, OR ELSE.  Drake out."

Nothing like death threats to motivate peace, Silas mused.  Not that it would matter in the grand scheme of things, but he was fairly certain that Starfleet would add a couple more ancillary charges to his court martial due to these transmissions.  But if it stopped the violence...

"Captain, it worked!" Dio exclaimed. "all vessels have powered down their weapons."

The immediate threat handled, Silas sighed ever so slightly.  "Inform the Coronado to resume their original path to the station.  Offer the Rytain our assistance in their rescue and recovery efforts; we can dispatch another shuttle if they want our help.  Lieutenant Zai, lay in a course for the station; I want these diplomats off my ship."

Stardate 2365.02.11
USS Peregrine, Main Bridge - 11:12

Asovil deeply focuses on the console before her. Heart racing, she can only imagine the consequences her bold captain faces. The concept of standing up to a superior officer is not alien to the Andorian but in her experience, nothing good comes of it. She cannot imagine this scenario ending well as the Peregrine shifts and her stomach lurches. Orange indicators on her screen show the gap closing between the two Star Fleet vessels and her lithe fingers dart from command to command adjusting the shield polarization to the front hull in the hopes that any beam weapon attacks from the Coronado will be greatly reduced.

"Captain, the Coronado has locked on to a Kuldar vessel and is closing to optimal firing range."  The Ops officer's voice is understandably tight.

Silas nods., "Lieutenant Berk, lock our phasers on the Coronado. Are those calculations complete?"

The TAC officer pales and swallows before answering, "Aye, Captain. Phasers are locked on. Calculations are complete."

"Captain," Lasad interjects, his voice several notes higher than before, "the Coronado is charging her phasers!"

The Andorian Science Officer frowns and double checks her calculations. This is really happening! she thinks, her mind matching her heartbeat. 

The Captain swallows, "Mister Berk, fire."

Was there hesitation? Was there even a second thought given? Asovil glances over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of her captain's stern face. Clenching her jaw, she draws a deep breath in through her nose and returns to her console. The following moment feels like an eternity and then the orange-red beam leaps from the Peregrine and lights up the shields protecting the Coronado. Within a second, the first phaser fire is joined by two more. The older Miranda class vessel's deflectors gamely try their best, dissipating the energy around the surface of the shield bubble, but they are no match for the Saber class frigate's power. Berk keeps the energy pouring out, and within a startlingly small window, the diplomatic ship's shields collapse and she pitches to the side. 

"Target's shields are down, Captain," Berk speaks rather unnecessarily. "Minor hull damage inflicted."

"We are being hailed from the Coronado," Lasad adds. After a nod from the captain the viewscreen shifts to the bridge of the other Federation vessel.

Front and center is the visage of Captain Jacobs, whose skin is mottled purple with rage. The man had been angry before, but now he is truly apoplectic. "You filthy piece of dog s***!" He spits. "You treacherous bastard!" Spittle drips from the lips of the Coronado's CO's lips as he rants. "When this is over, I will hang you myself!"

Lasad chimes in, his voice now filled with regret at having to interrupt. "Captain, the Coronado is changing course, she's coming around."

Berk joins in, a note of panic hanging heavy in his words, "Captain, they have locked phasers on us... they are firing!"

Asovil's fingers tap quickly across multiple buttons bringing up the readings assessing the Coronado's attack. With the nose of the Peregrine facing into the attack, the Andorian braces for the impact and sets her rich blue eyes on the numbers showing the strength of the hull and the shields. An instant later, the deck pitches from the force of the blow. "Direct hit, sir! Shields are holding," Lasad reports. "No physical damage, shields at ninety-two percent."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Lt. Sh'iraolnas allows herself a small moment of relief. Her calculations had been correct and the buffer has done its job.

His voice more even, the TAC officer speaks up again, "Captain, the Coronado is charging for another shot..."

Drake's voice cuts through the chaos, "Captain Jacobs, stop this madness at once," he orders in a commanding tone. "This has gone far enough!"

Asovil reads another barrage from the Coronado's phaser banks and blazingly adjusts the math to take some of the power from the phaser attack and disperse it across a wider berth. Physics... physics within war... Father would be so proud...The deck pitches again. 

"Another direct hit, sir," the OPS chief reports. "Shields are holding, down to eighty-three percent."

Scanning the readings, the science officer initiates a structural scan. Everything is holding up just fine except for the slight reduction in shield integrity. If she debuffs, she could potentially regenerate some of the shields. Setting about the task, she barely pays attention to the following conversation.

On the viewscreen, Jacobs sneers. "What a surprise. The coward is not prepared to deal with the repercussions of his actions. Did you honestly think that I would be bullied by the likes of you, Mister Drake?"

Once again, the deck pitches. "Captain!" The Risan OPS chief exclaims. "Sir, one of the shield generators has failed! Backup coming online, overall shield capacity down to fifty-nine percent!"

Asovil's heart clenches in her chest. She wasn't fast enough. But there's still the need so she presses on.

"Lieutenant Berk," Drake speaks calmly, "lock phasers on the Coronado. Target their phaser bank. On my mark, remove their offensive capabilities, please."

"Phasers locked on, sir," Berk reports. "Captain, you do know that with no deflector shields, even localized phaser damage will likely cause loss of life aboard the Coronado."

Lt. Sh'iraolnas practically glues her eyes to her work.

Drake's voice seems unnaturally calm to the science officer. Focus... focus... 

"Captain Joshua Jacobs," Silas says aloud in a measured, almost disinterested tone, "as lawful commander of this battle group, I hereby find you unfit for duty. You are relieved of command of the USS Coronado, effective immediately. Commander Bethany Farr will now assume command of your vessel. My phasers are locked onto your own; if you do not comply, I will render your weapons useless. If that is not sufficient incentive to ensure your acquiescence, I will move on from there to cripple your engines."

Jacobs, if possible, turns a darker shade of purple. "You wouldn't dare!" he shouts. "Even your treason does not run this deep!  Our shields are down, thanks to you! If you fire on this vessel, you will surely kill Starfleet personnel!" 

Drake nods his head ever so slightly, "You are correct, Captain... and I will regret each and every one of their deaths for the short remainder of my own life. But you leave me no choice. I cannot allow you to harm my own personnel, nor can I allow you to kill innocent Kuldarians." His voice deadly calm, he continues. "You have ten seconds to comply."

Jacobs sputters in fury. "I... I will do no such thing! You are bluffing! You will lose your commission, your freedom, your life! For what? Some ignorant, backwater sentients too stupid to take advantage of the dilithium under their noses? Why, I will…"

Silas tempered words flow over Asovil's shoulders and send shivers down her spine. "Your time is up. Mister Berk, fire on the Coronado pha..."

"STOP!" rings a feminine voice from the bridge of the Coronado. "Captain Jacobs, I relieve you. Please leave the bridge at once."  Commander Farr appears next to her commanding officer.

"Not now, Farr!" Jacobs roars. "I don't have time for your nonsense right now, I..."

Commander Farr interrupts. "Captain, I must insist. She gestures to her left, and a gold-suited officer appears with phaser drawn and leveled at the Captain. "Ensign Phillips will escort you to your quarters, sir. Please do not force us to stun you." 

Unable to help herself, Asovil pauses in her work to look at the screen just as Jacobs gapes, opens and closes his mouth twice as if to speak, but no sound comes out. For the briefest of moments, his muscles tense, and it looked as if he might attack the security officer. But the moment passes, and the now former CO of the Coronado visibly deflates. His shoulders slump and the Captain allows himself to be led towards the turbolift. For a brief moment, he pauses and looks back over his shoulder at the viewscreen.

"You will burn for this," he spits. "The both of you." The ensign then places a hand none too gently on Jacobs' shoulder, and the two disappear into the lift.

Somewhat surprised, the Andorian science officer watches as the new commander of the Coronado settles into the command chair. A fairly pale Farr barks orders, "Phasers offline, Lewis. Helm, all stop."  She then turns her focus to the viewscreen. "What are your orders, Captain Drake?"

Silas responds with amazing composure, "Hold position for now. Let's see if we can still salvage this thing. Drake out."

Turning back to her console, Asovil cannot help but smile in relief. Captain Drake has pulled off what was needed and now she can focus on her duties of helping TAC and Engineering repair what damage has been caused to their vessel. 

"Captain," Lasad reports, "several ships from both sides are moving to engage one another. Weapon systems are armed... it's about to become a full battle out there."

"Open all hailing frequencies, broadcast on all available channels," the Captain snaps. 

"NOW HEAR THIS!" Drake bellows in that stern voice that had first caused Asovil to be frightened of him. "This is Captain Drake of the USS Peregrine. All Rytain and Kuldar forces will stand down AT ONCE. Power down your weapons systems and hold your positions! This is a peace summit, and as God is my witness, there WILL be peace talks - terrorist attack or no! If any vessel makes an aggressive move of any sort, I will cut through it like paper. The delegations will proceed as planned to the rendezvous at the station, OR ELSE. Drake out."

"Captain, it worked!" Dio exclaims and Asovil can't help but feel his surprise. The approach was, after all, less Starfleet and more Klingon Empire. "all vessels have powered down their weapons."

Silas promptly responds as though he had been expecting those very results. "Inform the Coronado to resume their original path to the station. Offer the Rytain our assistance in their rescue and recovery efforts; we can dispatch another shuttle if they want our help. Lieutenant Zai, lay in a course for the station; I want these diplomats off my ship."

Glancing once more over her shoulder, her white hair drifting about her cheeks, the Science Officer catches the determined look on her captain's face and resolves herself further for it. Tapping the console's comm section, the Andorian woman brings it to life. Seconds later she has opened direct lines of communication to her staff and has set them to work assisting in the repairs. Captain Drake has earned her respect and loyalty time and time again. Even if Starfleet court martials the man for his actions on this day, Asovil is determined to stand beside him.

Stardate 2365.02.11 (Thursday - 42143.8 )
USS Peregrine; Shuttle Sierra One – 11:12

The shuttle sat in position, “The Coronado is still movin’ int’ attack position.” Megan nervously pointed out.”An’a that be straight down our throat.”

As they watched the Peregrine roared to life and the frigate rapidly closed the gap between itself and the menacing shape of the Coronado. 

 
Reid had opened the comm so the crew listened in to what was happening.

=/\="Captain, the Coronado has locked on to a Kuldar vessel and is closing to optimal firing range." =/\= The Ops officer's voice was understandably tight.

 

“That must be the one behind us, they probably don’t even see us here.” Reid mumbled.

 

Megan’s hand moved slowly as she slides the little craft’s shields to full. “It much but an’a shield is better than none.”

Drake’s voice came over the comm,  =/\= "Lieutenant Berk, lock our phasers on the Coronado.  Are those calculations complete?" =/\=

The TAC officer Berk=/\="Aye, Captain.  Phasers are locked on.  Calculations are complete." =/\=

=/\="Captain, the Coronado is charging her phasers!" =/\= Lasad interjected.

After a short pause, =/\= "Mister Berk, fire." =/\=

An orange-red beam leapt from the Peregrine and lit up the shields protecting the Coronado, and within seconds was joined by two more. The older Miranda class vessel's deflectors gamely tried their best, dissipating the energy around the surface of the shield bubble, but they were no match for the Saber class frigate's damage output.  The Peregrine kept the energy pouring out, and within a startlingly small window, the diplomatic ship's shields collapsed and she pitched to the side.

=/\="Target shields are down, Captain," Berk spoke,  "Minor hull damage inflicted." =/\=

 

The crew of small craft could only watch and wait. “Nice shooting.”John commented.

Lasad spoke.  =/\="We are being hailed from the Coronado," =/\=

 
Captain Jacobs spat, =/\="You filthy piece of dog s…You treacherous bastard!" ……. "When this is over, I will hang you myself!" =/\=

Lasad spoke up.  =/\="Captain, the Coronado is changing course, she's coming around." =/\=

 

Watching the large ship change course the young pilot let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Berk joined in, a note of panic in his voice.  =/\="Captain, they have locked phasers on us... they are firing!" =/\=

 

“Sweet Mother of Glory what do be think’n…they ain’t got no shields and Peregrine can rip up.”

An instant later, =/\="Direct hit, sir!  Shields are holding." Lasad reported.  "No physical damage, shields at ninety-two percent." =/\=

Berk spoke up again.  =/\="Captain, the Coronado is charging for another shot..." =/\=

Drake's voice cut through the chaos.  =/\="Captain Jacobs, stop this madness at once,… This has gone far enough!" =/\=

The shuttle watched as the deck pitched again. =/\= "Another direct hit, sir," the OPS chief reported.  "Shields are holding, down to eighty-three percent." =/\=

Over the comm they heard, Jacobs sneere.  =/\="What a surprise.  The coward is not prepared to deal with the repercussions of his actions.  Did you honestly think that I would be bullied by the likes of you, mister Drake?" =/\=

Once again, the deck pitched.  =/\="Captain!" =/\=The Risan OPS chief exclaimed.  =/\="Sir, one of the shield generators has failed!  Backup coming online, overall shield capacity down to fifty-nine percent!" =/\=

 

Reid started to feel that if continued to play out they just be the last Star Fleet vessel left in the area.

=/\="Lieutenant Berk," Drake spoke calmly, "lock phasers on the Coronado.  Target their phaser bank.  On my mark, remove their offensive capabilities, please." =/\=

=/\="Phasers locked on, sir," Berk reported.  "Captain, you do know that with no defector shields, even localized phaser damage will likely cause loss of life aboard the Coronado." =/\=

 

Once again the shuttle crew hung on the pause, they knew that their fate also hung on the next actions.



=/\="Captain Joshua Jacobs," Silas spoke aloud in a measured, almost disinterested tone, "as lawful commander of this battle group, I hereby find you unfit for duty.  You are relieved of command of the USS Coronado, effective immediately.  Commander Bethany Farr will now assume command of your vessel.  My phasers are locked onto your own; if you do not comply, I will render your weapons useless.  If that is not sufficient incentive to ensure your acquiescence, I will move on from there to cripple your engines." =/\=

The strain in Jacobs voice was telling.  =/\="You wouldn't dare!" he shouted.  "Even your treason does not run this deep!  Our shields are down, thanks to you!  If you fire on this vessel, you will surely kill Starfleet personnel!" =/\=

 =/\="You are correct, Captain... and I will regret each and every one of their deaths for the short remainder of my own life.  But you leave me no choice.  I cannot allow you to harm my own personnel, nor can I allow you to kill innocent Kuldarians."  Drake’s voice deadly calm, he continued. "You have ten seconds to comply." =/\=

 

Reid turned to crew, “Strap in…this may be go badly…..”

Jacobs sputtered in fury.  =/\="I... I will do no such thing!  You are bluffing!  You will lose your commission, your freedom, your life!  For what?  Some ignorant, backwater sentients too stupid to take advantage of the dilithium under their noses?  Why, I will…"=/\=

=/\="Your time is up.  Mister Berk, fire on the Coronado pha..." =/\=

=/\="STOP!" =/\= rang a feminine voice from the bridge of the Coronado.  =/\="Captain Jacobs, I relieve you.  Please leave the bridge at once." =/\= Commander Farr’s voice rang clear.

=/\="Not now, Farr!" =/\=Jacobs roared.  =/\="I don't have time for your nonsense right now, I..." =/\=

Commander Farr interrupted.  =/\="Captain, I must insist.  …Ensign Phillips will escort you to your quarters, sir.  Please do not force us to stun you." =/\=

 

Nurse Toriak raised an eye brow.

Jacobs gaped, =/\="You will burn for this," =/\=he spat.  =/\="The both of you." =/\=

Farr’s voice sounded tired, =/\="Phasers off line, Lewis.  Helm, all stop."  "What are your orders, Captain Drake?" =/\=

=/\="Hold position for now.  Let's see if we can still salvage this thing.  Drake out." =/\=

A momentary feeling of relief came over the shuttle….then…..

=/\="Captain, several ships from both sides are moving to engage one another. =/\=”  Lasad reported =/\=Weapon systems are armed... it's about to become a full battle out there." =/\=

 

“Oh crap………..” John blurted. “ Megan get us between those forces, keep the shields but expose our broadsides….we have to appear neutral…but be ready power up phasers.”

 

Sierra One banked sharply as Petty Officer Owen once again work her magic.   



=/\="NOW HEAR THIS!" Drake bellowed.  "This is Captain Drake of the USS Peregrine.  All Rytain and Kuldar forces will stand down AT ONCE.  Power down your weapons systems and hold your positions!  This is a peace summit, and as God is my witness, there WILL be peace talks - terrorist attack or no!  If any vessel makes an aggressive move of any sort, I will cut through it like paper.  The delegations will proceed as planned to the rendezvous at the station, OR ELSE.  Drake out." =/\=


=/\="Captain, it worked!" Dio exclaimed. "all vessels have powered down their weapons." =/\=

Silas sighed ever so slightly.  =/\="Inform the Coronado to resume their original path to the station.  Offer the Rytain our assistance in their rescue and recovery efforts; we can dispatch another shuttle if they want our help.  Lieutenant Zai, lay in a course for the station; I want these diplomats off my ship." =/\=

 

Reid chuckled at that last comment, he guess Capt’n Drake hadn’t interned for it to over the comm.

Clicking on Sierra’s comm, “Reid to Berk”.  A moment later, =/\=Berk here. =/\=

 

“Sir tell the Captain we are in position to aid….. we await orders…..by the way….nice shooting…Sir”

 

Stardate 2365.02.11
USS Peregrine, Main Bridge - 11:12

Berk felt himself settle on his feet as the inertial dampeners adjusted to the Peregrine's sudden acceleration as its impulse engines roared to life. The small frigate raced towards the Coronado.  Berk watched the gap rapidly close and the computer constantly recalculate the Peregrines firing solution. Making an attack run is probably a career ender, even if you aren’t found guilty by at your court martial. Mathias kept these thoughts to himself and quietly focused on his work. Despite the fact that they were racing to engage the Coronado Captain Jacobs seemed hell bent on his goal.

Lt. Lasad broke the tense silence on the bridge.

"Captain, the Coronado has locked on to a Kuldar vessel and is closing to optimal firing range."  The tension in his voice was palpable. Mathias could see it as well, they had locked their weapons on the Kuldar starship, they hadn’t charged their Phasers yet but it was only a matter of time.

"Lieutenant Berk, lock our phasers on the Coronado.  Are those calculations complete?"

The TAC officer paled and swallowed before answering.  "Aye, Captain.  Phasers are locked on.  Calculations are complete." The computer chirped at him, acknowledging the target lock, and his finger tensed over the button that spelled the potential end of the careers and possibly many lives, including their own. At this moment Mathias had only one thought. It’s now or never, here’s hoping they don’t call our bluff.

"Captain," Lasad interjected, his voice several notes higher than before, "the Coronado is charging her phasers!"

Time seemed to stand still for a moment but the Captian’s voice cut through the air like a knife.

"Mister Berk, fire!"

Acting on instinct Mathias’s finger pressed into the console much harder than necessary and
 after what felt like an eternity an orange-red beam leapt from the Peregrine, their impacts dancing across the Coronado’s shields, the Computer confirmed that the Peregrine’s other phaser array’s were charged and ready and Mathias loosed off two more shots in close succession. The older Miranda class vessel's deflectors put up a fight but they were not up to the task of defending against such an onslaught. Mathias kept firing, sweeping through every firing arc as they came available, sending every joule of energy the computer would let him towards the Coronado’s shields and then suddenly, they failed and she pitched on her side, her inertial dampeners unable to compensate.  All Mathias could think about was the pain he just caused and rather robotically he reported.

"Target shields are down, Captain, minor hull damage inflicted."

"We are being hailed from the Coronado," Lasad spoke.  After a nod from Drake, the viewscreen shifted to the bridge of the other Federation vessel.

Front and center was the visage of Captain Jacobs, whose skin was mottled purple with rage.  The man had been angry before, but now he was truly apoplectic.  "You filthy piece of dog s***!" He spat.  "You treacherous bastard!"  Spittle dripped from the lips of the Coronado CO's lips as he ranted.  "When this is over, I will hang you myself!"

Lasad spoke up.  "Captain, the Coronado is changing course, she's coming around."

Mathias joined Lasad’s chorus as the computer alerted him to an external target lock "Captain, they have locked phasers on us... they are firing!"

An instant later, the deck pitched from the force of the blow.  "Direct hit, sir!  Shields are holding." Lasad reported.  "No physical damage, shields at ninety-two percent."

Steeling himself,  Mathias stated as flatly as possible. "Captain, the Coronado is charging for another shot..."

Drake's voice cut through the chaos.  "Captain Jacobs, stop this madness at once," he ordered in a commanding tone.  "This has gone far enough!"

The deck pitched again.  "Another direct hit, sir," the OPS chief reported.  "Shields are holding, down to eighty-three percent."

While the Coronado was old it was still a capable ship, and while their shields were holding, Mathias was fighting to keep the Peregrine’s shield generators from overloading. He surreptitiously routed additional coolant to several generators in the hopes that it would buy them some extra time, his efforts were all for not however.

On the viewscreen, Jacobs sneered.  "What a surprise.  The coward is not prepared to deal with the repercussions of his actions.  Did you honestly think that I would be bullied by the likes of you, mister Drake?"

Once again, the deck pitched.  "Captain!" The Risan OPS chief exclaimed.  "Sir, one of the shield generators has failed!  Backup coming online, overall shield capacity down to fifty-nine percent!"

"Lieutenant Berk," The Captain was calm, "lock phasers on the Coronado.  Target their phaser bank.  On my mark, remove their offensive capabilities, please."

"Phasers locked on, sir," Berk reported.

A phaser impact on an unshielded target would be devastating and at this range Mathias was more likely to hit his target than not.

  If I fire it’s going to be a bloodbath over there.

 "Captain, you do know that with no defector shields, even localized phaser damage will likely cause loss of life aboard the Coronado."



The Captain didn’t respond to the comment, he just spoke calmly, without anger, without malice.  "Captain Joshua Jacobs, as lawful commander of this battle group, I hereby find you unfit for duty.  You are relieved of command of the USS Coronado, effective immediately.  Commander Bethany Farr will now assume command of your vessel.  My phasers are locked onto your own; if you do not comply, I will render your weapons useless.  If that is not sufficient incentive to ensure your acquiescence, I will move on from there to cripple your engines."

Mathias had predicted this and already locked multiple targets, one hand hovered over the Phaser controls, his other poised ready to load a salvo of torpedoes should the need arise.

Captain Jacobs’ face turned an even deeper shade of purple.  "You wouldn't dare!" he shouted spittle flying from his lips.  "Even your treason does not run this deep!  Our shields are down, thanks to you!  If you fire on this vessel, you will surely kill Starfleet personnel!" 

The Captain nodded, almost imperceptibly.  "You are correct, Captain... and I will regret each and every one of their deaths for the short remainder of my own life.  But you leave me no choice.  I cannot allow you to harm my own personnel, nor can I allow you to kill innocent Kuldarians."  The Captain’s voice was a razor sharp, but still calm and collected. "You have ten seconds to comply."

Jacobs sputtered in ineffectual rage.  "I... I will do no such thing!  You are bluffing!  You will lose your commission, your freedom, your life!  For what?  Some ignorant, backwater sentients too stupid to take advantage of the dilithium under their noses?  Why, I will…"

Silas raised his hand.  "Your time is up.  Mister Berk, fire on the Coronado pha..."

"STOP!" rang a feminine voice from the bridge of the Coronado.  "Captain Jacobs, I relieve you.  Please leave the bridge at once."  Commander Farr entered the frame, standing rigidly next to her commanding officer.

"Not now, Farr!" Jacobs roared.  "I don't have time for your nonsense right now, I..."

Commander Farr interrupted.  "Captain, I must insist.  She gestured to her left, and a gold-suited officer appeared with phaser drawn and leveled at the Captain.  "Ensign Phillips will escort you to your quarters, sir.  Please do not force us to stun you." 

Jacobs gaped, opened and closed his mouth twice as if to speak, but no sound came out.  For the briefest of moments, his muscles tensed, and it looked as if he might attack the security officer.  But the moment passed, and the now former CO of the Coronado deflated.  His shoulders slumped, and the Captain allowed himself to be led towards the turbolift.  For a brief moment, he paused and looked back over his shoulder at the viewscreen.  "You will burn for this," he spat.  "The both of you."  The ensign then placed a hand none too gently on Jacobs' shoulder, and the two disappeared into the lift.

As she settled into the command chair, a fairly pale Farr barked orders.  "Phasers off line, Lewis.  Helm, all stop."  She then turned her focus to the viewscreen.  "What are your orders, Captain Drake?"

Silas allowed the breath he had not realized he was holding to escape.  "Hold position for now.  Let's see if we can still salvage this thing.  Drake out."

Mathias hand’s trembled, the Captain had headed off one crisis at the pass, but things could still end in tragedy. Mathias looked down at his hand and willed them to stop, and went back to work scanning the area for a hot shot Kuldarian or Rytain Captain who decided to make a name for themselves and take advantage of the short brawl the two Federation ships had just engaged in.

 

Stardate: 2365.02.11

USS Peregrine, Main Engineering – 11:12

 

Haemis steadied himself with a firm hand on the console in front of him; he felt the shudder run through the ship as the Peregrine’s shields took the phaser strike from the Coronado. Alarms cried out as the vessels systems struggled to compensate.

“Shields at Ninety-two!” Caity Morgan called from across the room as she deftly ran her hands across the console checking systems.

“Keep an eye on it!” Haemis called back, also running checks. The ship was holding up well thus far under the phaser fire. “Let’s be ready to start sending teams for Damage control!” he said, his voice was steady and confident.

The ship pitched again, and Haemis nearly lost his footing. “What the ell is going on up there!” he said under his breath.

“Shields at Eighty-three percent!” Caity called.

“An EPS conduit on deck three just went, I’m re-routing power.” Merida Peers, the ships Damage control specialist called out over the alarms.

“Good,” Haemis said, and he too went about rerouting power around a suddenly failed minor subsystem. “Watch those shield generators!”

The deck pitched hard again, this time showering them in sparks in engineering a few consoles flickered but came back up. “We lost one!” Caity called over the alarms, her voice suddenly hurried and showing a bit of panic. “Rerouting, and bringing one of the backup’s on!”

Haemis steadied himself again. “Transfer power from the other generators, keep those shields shored up and even if you have to.”

“Were good!” Caity said. “Shields are holding at fifty-nine percent!”

The vessel seemed to settle at their feet, no more Phaser fire. Something had clearly changed. Both Haemis and Caity looked to one another respectively, both with curious looks. Haemis took a moment and pulled up the feed from the bridge.

“Captain Joshua Jacobs,” He heard Captain Drake’s voice calling out. “as lawful commander of this battle group, I hereby find you unfit for duty. You are relieved of command of the USS Coronado, effective immediately. Commander Bethany Farr will now assume command of your vessel. My Phaser’s are locked onto your own; if you do not comply, I will render your weapons useless. If that is not sufficient incentive to ensure your acquiescence, I will move on from there to cripple your engines.” The Captain’s voice we calm and collected which honestly was not a surprise to Haemis.

There was a part of Haemis that wanted to jump for joy; finally, that bastard was getting what he deserved. “About bloody time!” he said having a small private party all to himself. The rest of the conversation seemed to fade into the background as Haemis quickly returned to his duties. “Alright let’s get repair teams out to start getting her back into shape.” He said glancing around at those gathered. “Back to work with ye!” he said shaking his head.

“Should we pull together tools and teams to help the Coronado?” Caity asked. “You think they will need it?”

Haemis pondered that question for a moment while his team scrambled to work on getting their own ship in line. He shook his head. “No, let’s see what the Captain decides, for now let’s deal with our own. We need to get that shield generator back online!” He pulled an engineering kit off a spot on the wall and nodded. “I’ll get to work on that, as soon as all our other damage is secured send me some help!” he said as he headed out the door.

Stardate 2365.02.11
Gamera Spaceport, Auditorium A  - 14:12

Silas sat at the center of three tables arranged in an open "U" shape on a raised dias; the Kuldar delegation was seated to his left, with the Rytain to his right.  Rows of seats in curved aisles faced the dais, with each row farther back slightly elevated above the row on front so as to give clear sight lines to the central stage area.  Tochi Zai was in the chair immediately to his right; Bethany Farr sat to his left, her face anxious.  All but two of the security personnel from the Peregrine stood watch around the auditorium or in the corridors outside.  The full compliments of the diplomatic teams from the two opposing sides were present - along with a few governmental officials and the like - though several empty chairs at the Rytain table were telling.

So far, it had been bedlam.  Each side accused the other of all sorts of crimes; insults and threats flew through the air unabated.  Among the most vociforous was ambassador Threel, who gleefully levied every accusation under the sun.  Drake found himself wishing that he had let the battle take place, and instead flown his ship in literally any other direction - perhaps even into the center of the Gamera star.  He had expected grandstanding and posturing, but this was entirely intolerable.

The PADD on the table in front of Drake flashed with an update, and the Captain turned his attention to it, eager for any distraction.  After a few moments, however, his visage turned dark and he rose to his feet.

"Excuse me, esteemed dignitaries..." he began, but the debate had devolved to shouting, and he was ignored.  Silas loudly cleared his throat. 

"Pardon me, but I would like..." he tried again, to no better effect.

His jaw set, Silas straightened his back, drew in a breath, and bellowed from his diaphragm.  "SIT DOWN AND SHUT YOUR MOUTHS!"

Gasps rose from around the room, but a hush fell over the auditorium and almost everyone on the dais complied. 

"What is the meaning of this, Commander Drake?" sneered Ambassador Threel in response.  "We are no longer aboard your vessel, you lack the authority to..."

"BELAY THAT!" Drake roared in interruption. "Ambassador Threel, you will be silent and remove yourself from these proceedings!  I have had enough of your obstructionism.  These talks will continue with another member of you government taking your place."

The Rytain official blanched for a moment, before chuckling.  "You have no standing here, you cannot..."

"I said, BE QUIET!" Silas roared.  The Peregrine's CO held up his PADD, keyed it, and the contents were simulcast to the holographic displays.  "You will all note the report here by Lieutenant Reid.  We did, in fact, recover five survivors from the Stormspike.  Four committed suicide, but the fifth is sedated in our sickbay.  All five - as well as another eleven dead aboard the Stormspike - are Rytainian citizens."  Drake paused as titters echoed through the chamber.  "You will further note the transmission logs recovered from the Stormspike, with coded messages sent back and forth to Ambassador Threel aboard my ship.  You, sir," the Captain continued with a finger pointed at the Rytainian, "have aided and abetted terrorists to kill your own people for the purpose of subverting these peace talks."

Silas took a deep breath as a deep hush fell over the auditorium.  "Petty officer," he ordered one of the secuirty personnel, "remove the Ambassador from these proceedings and hold him until his own government takes charge of him."

Threel protested the validity of the charges, as well as the right to arrest him in such a situation.  "You are but a Commander!" he shouted.  "You have no authority over the ranking diplomat of a foreign power in such a negotiation!  You cannot touch me, I..."

"You are incorrect," Silas interrupted flatly.  "As the commanding officer of this battle group, I am in charge of all Federation interests in this system.  As we are absent a diplomat, according to Starfleet regulations, I have complete plenipotentiary powers when it comes to contact with foreign governments.  Make no mistake, Ambassador - my word here is, in fact, Federation law.  You have acted against Federation interests, colluded to damage a Federation starship, and endangered the lives of Federation personnel.  As a threat to operational security, you have no diplomatic immunity, and I hereby place you under arrest."

Petty Officer Brady stepped to remove Threel, and bedlam erupted again.  There was shouting, and gesturing, and general chaos befitting a mob more than a displomatic assembly.  The Kuldar were well into the process of storming out, accusing the Rytain government of bad faith.  The Rytain acted is if they might resist the arrest.  Silas took another deep breath. 

"BE SILENT, THE LOT OF YOU!" he bellowed.  "We came here to negotiate a peace, and that is what we will do!"

"Surely, you cannot expect us to speak when they have betrayed the peace so?" Demanded a Kuldarian attache.  "And beyond that, you cannot force us to actually negotiate..."

"I can, and I will!" Drake asserted.  "The Rytainian government is not behind this - we have listed to their transmissions.  They believed this to be an attack by the Kuldar.  This is a hate group here that wishes to see peace fail.  If you walk away from these talks now, they succeed."

For a brief moment, Silas saw the smallest flicker.  "Why do your two peoples fight?" he continued.  "Can any of you even remember?  I have studied your texts - I see no root cause for this war.  I see two neighbors who fight because they have always fought, over some petty squabble no one can recall!  How many more of your children will grow up as orphans - or not grow up at all - merely because the two of you cannot move beyond how it has always been between you?"

It was an opening.  Not a large one, but it was in fact there - and Drake took it.  He hammered ahead, threatening, cajoling, prodding both sides. 

Somehow, some way... it was enough.  The details took hours.  It was a lengthy, torturous process... but at long last, an accord was ratified by all three parties.

All hostilities between the Kuldar and Rytain were ceased.  A framework for peace that both sides could live with - if not necessarily celebrate - was hammered out.  The Federation gained access to the dilithium - at the price of some extensive promises for advanced replicator and medical technology from the Federation. Silas was fairly sure those concessions would earn him a reprimand at the very least, but in the face of his looming court martial, he could not seem to summon forth the energy to care. 

The various representatives posed for the holovids, made a show of signing their names to the various documents, and peace was officially established - even if that peace had come under varying degrees of threats of violence.

**************************************************************

When it was over, Silas found himself numbly wandering the corridor back towards his ship.  The thought occured to him that this would be his legacy; a peace treaty between two backwater worlds. 

But even as he did his best to mnimize the accomplishment, he could see Michelle's face, almost feel her disapproving stare.  She would have pointed out that it didn't matter how big the empires were - the fact was that his efforts, and the efforts of his crew, had spared lives from the potential battle today, and from preventing potential battles in the future. 

If his legacy was that even one person - let alone hundreds, perhaps thousands - would have the chance to live a full life that might not have otherwise had that chance... wasn't today worth it?

At that moment, he came across a viewport with an almost perfectly unobstructed view of the Peregrine, and the Captain was grabbed by a bitter melancholy as it hit him that he would never again lay eyes again on his ship that he could call his own.  Jacobs wouldn't even have to make an effort to see to that - the computer logs of his actions this day would be far more than enough. 

Ah, well.  Perhaps he would get a penal colony cell with a nice view. 

Dio Lasad sits in the captain's chair monitoring incoming reports and doing his best to focus on the task of cleaning up after the failed sabotage attempt. Excitement and nerves have all subsided now and the crew of the Peregrine is now about responsibility. With the captain and the first mate attending the accord, Dio finds himself in command, and it isn't a position he's keen on messing up. With a dutiful eye towards detail, he pushes all ponderings about the progress on the Gamera Spaceport and addressed the latest incoming message. With the reply sent, he scans the department reports for anything that requires his immediate attention. Seeing none, he takes the PADD in hand and continues his personal report.

Captain Jacobs' insistence on pursuing his own agenda is apparent to me. Captain Jacobs ignored valid information, pertinent reports, and relevant data delivered to him by personnel that had it been acknowledged, could have saved lives. By insisting on threatening the...

Captain Drake is sure that he's going to wind up in a penal colony and while Lasad isn't as confident that his new captain is destined to be retired, he is sure that there will be an investigation. So, the Ops Officer is determined to get the details down on record while they are still fresh on his mind.

------------------------------

The threat might be over, but that doesn't mean that there aren't others. A single-pronged attack seems unlikely to the ex-Imperial Guard.

"I don't think we can expand the sensors any further without launching probes," Ensign Dalia Maize frowns and folds her arms beneath her breasts. "Do you really think that there's reason to worry? After all, Captain Drake is now on the station and he doesn't seem to be concerned."

"To put one's baskets in the same carton seems irresponsible," Asovil remarks, eyes on her screen with math flowing before her icy eyes and completely oblivious to her mistake. "Captain Drake has a lot on his mind and he's relying on his officers to assist him in achieving mission success.

"As an Imperial Guardsman, we often ran combat scenarios that included ambush. If the enemy can present one attack, it is only reasonable to assume that they can mount another... maybe even a third and fourth."

"Isn't this something that Security and Tac should be handling?" Dalia presses.

The Science Officer looks up from her algorithms and raises her thin, white eyebrows. Atop her head, her antennae swivel and press forward. "I am not ordering you to do anything outside of our purview, Ensign.

"Now, if we need to launch probes to extend the sensor range, I suggest we put together the proper figures and present the options to Lieutenant Lasad sooner rather than later."

"Yes, sir," Ensign Maize curtly remarks. It seems like paranoia to her, but she will follow orders.

Stardate 2365.02.12
USS Peregrine, Captain's Ready Room - 09:17

The Peregrine was under way, on her way back to Starbase 118, where Drake would certainly be relieved of command as the first step down the path of court martial.  Silas was strangely at peace with the situation. 

Oh, he had railed a bit the night before; for the first time in a very long time, he had crawled inside of a bottle of scotch.  He had taken some time to feel sorry for himself, to shake his fist at the unfairness of the universe, to summon Michelle's ghost (who took a dim view of both his feeling sorry for himself and shouting at the stars), and had come around to a comfortably numb take on the situation.

If he picked the details of the situation apart, Drake would surely find some minor aspects that could have been handed better.  But by and large, the events had been beyond his control, and he had done the best he could with the resources and information at hand.  It hadn't been good enough, true, but he had done his best.  Realistically, that was all anyone could ask of a person; for them to give their all.  

The CO of the Peregrine found himself a little sad, nonetheless; this was not how he had pictured his career ending.  He had long ago accepted that he might die in the line of duty; there was at least honor, closure in that. But to end things like this?  He would never make Captain.  Never defend the Federation against her enemies.  Never explore the uncharted sectors of the galaxy.  And for what?

Sighing, he keyed his communicator.  "Drake to Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas."

=/\= Sh'iraolnas here. =/\= came the reply.

"Lieutenant, please meet me in my Ready Room.  Drake out."

There were a few more things he could do before his commission was taken.

****************************************************************

A short time later, the CSO sat in a chair on the other side of his desk.  Leaning back somewhat in his chair, the Captain spoke.

"Lieutenant, my impression is that when you first joined us, you were less than thrilled.  Don't get me wrong; I understand.  You are a woman of science, and this is a warship that would appear to provide you a limited platform to pursue your field.  Correct?"

OOC: a response

A wry smile touched the corner of Drake' mouth.  "And yet, you managed to find a way to continue your pursit of scence, even so," he continued.

"Yesterday, when given a stressful, unfair situation, you persevered and came up with a legitimate scientific breakthrough.  Asovil, you saved lives yesterday - and I have no doubt in my mind that your work will lead to more Federation lives being saved in the future.  Your resourcefulness under pressure speaks volumes to your character, and I am proud to have served with you, even though the duration of that service has not been long."

Drake placed a small box on the desk, then opened it to reveal a ribbon inside.  "I have recommended you for the Cross of Alexander; your actions saved lives, demonstrated great achievement, and certainly set you apart from the performance of your peers in the same sort of circumstance.  I have no doubt that this will be confirmed; however, a review board must issue it, as I lack the authority to do so.  In the meantime, please accept this Captain's Commendation for your service."

OOC: a response

"Thank you again, Lieutenant, and congratulations." Silas spoke.  "Dismissed."

Stardate 2365.02.12
USS Peregrine, Captain's Ready Room - 09:44

Silas sat across the desk from his XO, and for a moment forgot to keep the weariness he felt out of his expression.  After a moment, though, it was gone, and his Captain's facade fell firmly back into position. 

"Hell of a mission, eh Tochi?" Drake asked rhetorically. 

OOC: whatever response

"We will be back at Starbase 118 soon enough," the Captain continued, "and we both know what will happen when we get there.  I'll be relieved of command and escorted from the Peregrine; depending on how much fuss Jacobs has raised and what the local attitudes are towards making a spectacle - attitudes I likely did not improve with my stunt towards station security - I will probaby be led away in binders."

Drake raised a hand to forestall any objection.  "It okay, Tochi.  I won't pretend that I'm happy with the situation, but I have come to peace with it.  After all, what would you have me do?  Hoist a Jolly Roger and take the Peregrine rogue?" 

His gaze strayed upon the model of the Golden Hind hung upon his wall, and Drake chuckled.  "Another lifetime, another set of circumstances... perhaps."

Silas shook his head.  "Seeing as how my fate is quite sealed, I have but two concerns remaining.  One, I will insist that the truth of the events surrounding the Gamera mission come to light."  As he spoke, his eyes flared with inner fire.  "Jacobs may well be insulated from real repercussions by his connections," Drake snapped, "but he cannot be left in charge of anything of importance - the facts must be known."

He took a deep breath, banking the surprising rush of anger down inside himself, before continuing.  "Two, I want to ensure that my crew is treated fairly.  Their roles in this mission cannot be held agianst them."

Silas smiled in a self-deprecating manner.  "Tochi, I have heard your talk about adjoining cells on a penal planet, and I cannot express to you how honored I feel from such loyalty.  I am not sure what I have done to deserve it, but I thank you from the bottom of my heart."  Interestingly, Silas found himself having to swallow a knot before he could continue.    "But Tochi, I cannot let that happen.  Starfleet cannot let that happen.  You were following orders, period.  Even if the orders were illegal, you are protected by the same chain of command that damns me.  You flew the intercept course because I told you to.  Berk fired the phasers because I told him to.  Even Commander Farr may be protected - she assumed command of the Coronado on my order, which she believed to be lawful."

Again, Silas held up a hand to forestall argument.  "Whether or not the order actually was lawful is moot.  You and I both know that relieving a sitting Captain of command is a tenuous prospect, at best; I went into an area the regs simply do not cover when I relieved Jacobs of command of the battle group.  Jacobs is too well connected, and I am barely tolerated.  Relieving him, firing on his ship... a penal colony is likely a merciful outcome for me."

Drake shook his head.  "But not for you.  And don't you dare try to testify in some manner that makes you culpable somehow; it won't save me, it will only damn you, too.  And for what?  No.  You are protected by the chain of command, you accept that, you continue to do the good that you can do... especially since I won't be in the position to do the same any longer."

Silas sat up straight.  "Which brings me to why I asked you here.  Tochi, I have been looking at your jacket.  You've been a Lieutenant now for seven years... which is getting to be a long time. Not for lack of ability - you are an incredible pilot, your department is one of the best run I have ever had the pleasure to work with.  You connect so well with everyone; far better than my 'the airlock is in that direction' attitude seems to manage.  Your instincts are excellent.  You are an asset to Starfleet."

OOC: any response

"You are an asset to Starfleet," Drake repeated, "yet you are in danger of seeing your career stagnate.  If you remain a Lieutenant much longer, you will eventually lose all consideration for further promotion, simply be considered a specialist for the duration of your service.  And that would be a shame."

Silas shook his head.  "In a couple of days, my commission will be revoked.  But as long as I have command, I have the authority to make certain decisions - decisions which, by fleet tradition, are considered to be my right to make, and which are not reviewed or confirmed by anyone."

The Captain placed a small, velvet-lined box on the desk.  Nestled inside was a single hollow pip.  "Computer, record," he spoke.  "By the authority invested in me by the United Federation of Planets, I, Commander Silas Drake, hereby promote Lieutenant Tochi Zai to Lieutenant Commander."

He grinned.  "Field promotions, in fact, are very specifically excluded from review.  Congratulations, Tochi - this is richly deserved."

Stardate 2365.02.12
USS Peregrine, Captain's Ready Room - 09:44

The summons was not entirely unexpected. Given the events that had transpired, even from the beginning of this mission, Tochi Zai was certain that things were not going to be the same for himself, Silas, the Peregrine, or, for that matter, the whole of Starfleet ever again. Even as he strode toward his meeting with Captain Drake, the Trill couldn’t help but think back to the conversation that he and his friend had had only weeks (or was it only days?) ago… Talks of adjoining cells on a penal colony somewhere, allusions to Drake’s ancestors and their “interpretations of the rules,” even the lengths that Tochi would have been willing to go to for his commanding officer, regulations be damned, flooded through his mind as he approached Drake’s ready room door… and a faint, yet haunted smile spread across the XO’s face as he queued the chime.

Silas is resigned to what he believes to be his fate, Tochi mused, bracing himself for whatever the Captain might have to say, Feels he deserves it, as if it were some sort of penance…

“Enter,” came the response to the electronic hail.

The Trill did, of course, and, from just a glance at the Captain, could see the weariness in the man’s face. A weariness that was borne on more than a physical level, resultant of the trials and tribulations weighing on him from the recent mission. It was more a soul-deep exhaustion etched into Silas’ features that Tochi glimpsed as he strode through the door and, without being invited, sat himself, wordlessly, in his customary place across the Captain’s desk.

For a long moment, only the sound of their respective breaths passed between them and, while Silas reclaimed his façade, Tochi tried his best to still his heart for what was to come…

"Hell of a mission, eh Tochi?" Drake asked.

The Trill chuckled softly as he nodded, knowing that Drake wasn’t necessarily expecting an answer but, also, prepared to give one, anyway. “Indeed it was, my friend,” he concurred, reclining into the tall back of the chair to which he’d relegated himself; his eyes skimming the various model ships that hung about his CO’s office and fixing, finally, on the effigy of The Golden Hind for a moment before skipping back to the man across the desk, “Your ancestors could not be more proud, we’re sure.”  

"We will be back at Starbase 118 soon enough," the Captain continued, "and we both know what will happen when we get there.  I'll be relieved of command and escorted from the Peregrine; depending on how much fuss Jacobs has raised and what the local attitudes are towards making a spectacle - attitudes I likely did not improve with my stunt towards station security - I will probably be led away in binders."

Tochi opened his mouth to state that, in no way, shape, or form, would he have ever allowed Silas Drake to be led off of his own ship in binders but…

Drake raised a hand to forestall any objection.  "It’s okay, Tochi.  I won't pretend that I'm happy with the situation, but I have come to peace with it.  After all, what would you have me do?  Hoist a Jolly Roger and take the Peregrine rogue?"  

His gaze strayed upon the model of the Golden Hind hung upon his wall, and Drake chuckled.  "Another lifetime, another set of circumstances... perhaps."

Grinning, the Trill XO shrugged faintly, and offered; “There are worse ways to go, my friend. Resignation being one. We seem to recall a tale of Edward teach being…”

Silas shook his head, cutting his XO’s line of thought off in the middle.  "Seeing as how my fate is quite sealed, I have but two concerns remaining.  One, I will insist that the truth of the events surrounding the Gamera mission come to light."  As he spoke, his eyes flared with inner fire.  "Jacobs may well be insulated from real repercussions by his connections," Drake snapped, "but he cannot be left in charge of anything of importance - the facts must be known."

Tochi nodded his understanding and agreement in a single motion; hopefully, leaving no doubt that, regardless of the outcome of Starfleet’s investigation into the matter, that Jacob’s actions and/or inactions would certainly be highlighted. Again, though, Silas managed to forestall any comment from his junior.

The Captain took a deep breath, banking the surprising rush of anger down inside himself, before continuing.  "Two, I want to ensure that my crew is treated fairly.  Their roles in this mission cannot be held against them."

Silas smiled in a self-deprecating manner.  "Tochi, I have heard your talk about adjoining cells on a penal planet, and I cannot express to you how honored I feel from such loyalty.  I am not sure what I have done to deserve it, but I thank you from the bottom of my heart."  Interestingly, Silas found himself having to swallow a knot before he could continue.    "But Tochi, I cannot let that happen.  Starfleet cannot let that happen.  You were following orders, period.  Even if the orders were illegal, you are protected by the same chain of command that damns me.  You flew the intercept course because I told you to.  Berk fired the phasers because I told him to.  Even Commander Farr may be protected - she assumed command of the Coronado on my order, which she believed to be lawful."

“Silas… We… no… I…”

Again, Silas held up a hand to forestall argument.  "Whether or not the order actually was lawful is moot.  You and I both know that relieving a sitting Captain of command is a tenuous prospect, at best; I went into an area the regs simply do not cover when I relieved Jacobs of command of the battle group.  Jacobs is too well connected, and I am barely tolerated.  Reliving him, firing on his ship... a penal colony is likely a merciful outcome for me."

Drake shook his head.  "But not for you.  And don't you dare try to testify in some manner that makes you culpable somehow; it won't save me, it will only damn you, too.  And for what?  No.  You are protected by the chain of command, you accept that, you continue to do the good that you can do... especially since I won't be in the position to do the same any longer."

Chain of command and the protections afforded be damned, the Trill thought about saying, We did what we did because we were right, Silas! How can that be viewed as anything else?

Silas sat up straight.  "Which brings me to why I asked you here.  Tochi, I have been looking at your jacket.  You've been a Lieutenant now for seven years... which is getting to be a long time. Not for lack of ability - you are an incredible pilot, your department is one of the best run I have ever had the pleasure to work with.  You connect so well with everyone; far better than my 'the airlock is in that direction' attitude seems to manage.  Your instincts are excellent.  You are an asset to Starfleet."

Tochi couldn’t help but chuckle at this. “I am a good pilot,” he snickered, “and we hope that we have been just as good at filling the role of your first officer, but even the Symbiosis Commission on Trillius Prime questions our being an asset…” He tapped meaningfully at his temple, and winked, “…glitchy; remember?”

“You are an asset to Starfleet, "Drake repeated, "yet you are in danger of seeing your career stagnate.  If you remain a Lieutenant much longer, you will eventually lose all consideration for further promotion, simply be considered a specialist for the duration of your service.  And that would be a shame."

Silas shook his head.  "In a couple of days, my commission will be revoked.  But as long as I have command, I have the authority to make certain decisions - decisions which, by fleet tradition, are considered to be my right to make, and which are not reviewed or confirmed by anyone."

The Captain placed a small, velvet-lined box on the desk.  Nestled inside was a single hollow pip.  "Computer, record," he spoke.  "By the authority invested in me by the United Federation of Planets, I, Commander Silas Drake, hereby promote Lieutenant Tochi Zai to Lieutenant Commander."

He grinned.  "Field promotions, in fact, are very specifically excluded from review.  Congratulations, Tochi - this is richly deserved."

Tochi gazed at the box which Silas had slid across the desk and, for a moment, marveled at it’s contents, but, soon enough, reached out a hand and snapped the thing shut. “Thank you, my friend,” he smiled genuinely, “but this is not the reason we agreed to serve under you, you know? You, sir, are an excellent officer, a wise leader, and a knowledgeable Captain. That is what makes you the sort of commander Starfleet needs and deserves. Not the handing out of undeserved promotions or the sheltering of your crew from actions you choose to take upon yourself when you know all of us are behind you.” The Trill’s hand closed on the box and drew it across the surface of the desk and, even as he pocketed the thing, he smiled at his friend. “We will take your promotion, Silas,” he offered, “and thank you for it, but do not think that an extra pip will keep us from telling the truth of what transpired here, or the role that we played in it.

You are our friend, Silas Drake,” Tochi Zai smiled softly, reaching a hand across the desk to shake Silas’, “and that is more an honor than any medal, rank, or badge could ever hope to confirm. In the event that they do assign you to a penal colony, rest assured that we will visit you regularly and often.”

Stardate 2365.02.12
USS Peregrine, Captain's Ready Room - 09:17

Rest is for the weak and only those who persist through the long hours of service excel. At least, that's what Asovil was taught at the Imperial Academy and, for the most part, still subscribes to. Such a commitment had seen her up quite late the night before reviewing reports, confirming data, and logging her findings all in support of the actions her captain had taken and all scientifically proving that... that, what? That Drake had acted as he had because of the data on hand? That Jacobs had been "hellscrooked" on disrupting the negotiations? Rubbing her eyes, the Andorian woman's antennae droop against her white hair with weariness. 

"All you unwell, sir?" Ensign Maize's voice echoes in the comfortably quiet science lab.

"I'm well enough, Ensign," the lieutenant replies in a way that she hopes placates her subordinate. Truth be told, she's worried. Worried that just as she is starting to make a real home for herself in an assignment she had felt was the beginning of the end to her career in Starfleet, it would all be swept away and there's not a thing she can do about it.

"Headache?" Dalia presses. "If so, the replicator makes a nice ginger root tea that will help."

Drawing in a deep breath, Lt. Sh'iraolnas straightens her back and forces her antennae to perk up. Pressing her lips together, she opens her purple eyes and focuses them once more on the incoming report from SciCon 1. Tea, the officer contends. Why is the solution to everything with these humans, tea?

=/\= Drake to Lieutenant Sh'iraolnas. =/\=

Surprised by the interruption, the Andorian rushes to respond, "Sh'iraolnas here."

=/\= Lieutenant, please meet me in my Ready Room. Drake out. =/\=

Wrinkles play across her forehead with the raising of her thin, white eyebrows and her antennae pull backward almost like a cat's ears. Swiveling in the chair, Asovil drops her booted feet to the carpeted floor and rises, tugging down on the waist of her blue and black uniform to remove the wrinkles that had nested there.

"Good luck," Ensign Maize offers.

"Thank you," Lt. Sh'iraolnas replies. "I shall grab you later."

Dalia's brow furrows as she considers the alien's meaning, "Right... um, do you mean, catch you later?"

But Asovil was already through the door and engaged in her own thoughts.

****************************************************************

Sitting in a chair on the other side of Captain Drake's desk, Asovil briefly reflects on the first and last time she had experienced the honor of meeting privately with her warrior captain. She had been far less impressed and more than a little trepidatious about what was pending. Now, sitting straight-backed while her commanding officer leans back somewhat in his chair, she's all ears as the Captain speaks.

"Lieutenant, my impression is that when you first joined us, you were less than thrilled. Don't get me wrong; I understand. You are a woman of science, and this is a warship that would appear to provide you a limited platform to pursue your field. Correct?"

"Yes, sir," she presses her lips together and acknowledges the accuracy of his statement with a slight tip of her head and a quiver of the antennae.

A wry smile touches the corner of Drake' mouth, "And yet, you managed to find a way to continue your pursit of scence, even so," he continues.

"Yesterday, when given a stressful, unfair situation, you persevered and came up with a legitimate scientific breakthrough. Asovil, you saved lives yesterday—and I have no doubt in my mind that your work will lead to more Federation lives being saved in the future. Your resourcefulness under pressure speaks volumes to your character, and I am proud to have served with you, even though the duration of that service has not been long."

Drake places a small box on the desk and opens it to reveal a ribbon inside that causes the Andorian woman's heart to skip a beat. "I have recommended you for the Cross of Alexander; your actions saved lives, demonstrated great achievement, and certainly set you apart from the performance of your peers in the same sort of circumstance. I have no doubt that this will be confirmed; however, a review board must issue it, as I lack the authority to do so. In the meantime, please accept this Captain's Commendation for your service."

"I don't know what to say, sir," a slight shake of her head causes the tendrils of her white hair not caught up in her service bun to drift lazily about her elegant neck. "Thank you. Thank you, sir."

"Thank you again, Lieutenant, and congratulations," Silas responds. "Dismissed."

Rising immediately, instinctively, at the command, the blue-skinned scientist offers a salute, retrieves the parcel from the desk and sharply makes her exit. With the sound of the swishing hydraulics fresh in her ears, Asovil makes her way briskly across the bridge towards the turbo lift. Lost in her thoughts as she is, the woman doesn't even notice who's present and steps into the lift having experienced nothing but a memory of a blurred passage along the way. With the doors closed, she gives the absent-minded order for the floor of the labs and settles into her thoughts. 

The whole journey seems to have been so short and yet so much has happened. Captain Drake has commended her for her use of Dark Matter scans—a full report of which she still has yet to complete—and put her up for a highly sought after commendation. All of this after she was demoted and reassigned for striking a superior officer; reassigned to a warship where her skills (she had thought) would be wasted. Excitement boils inside threatening to erupt in a gleeful hop as the doors to the lift open revealing the hall beyond. 

Settling her revitalized muscles, the Andorian scientist strides towards her lab—my lab—with a stoic expression on her face that belies the joy she feels inside. A thought tickles the back of her mind, If he hadn't already won my loyalty through his selfless and brave actions, Captain Drake certainly has now. She couldn't wait to share the news with her parents, with her friends back home, with Tochi. But for now, she had a report to write further detailing the means by which she utilized Dark Matter in her scans and following that, a paper with all of the details.

Stardate 2365.02.12 (Friday - 42949.4)
USS Peregrine; Deck 1 - Main Bridge – 12:25

Lieutenant Dio Lasad sits at the operations con and calmly observes the end results of his report displayed on the PADD in front of him. He is up late in the day due to his beta command shift, but early enough to take care of more than a few of his ongoing responsibilities, this report not being the least of them. Here, in his quarters, he has not yet tended to his long, black hair and it hangs loosely about his gray undershirt.

Frowning and furrowing his brow, the Risan sets the handheld computer on the desk in front of him and attempts to melt it with his emerald green eyes. Despite the known necessity of the report, he can’t help but feel that there are more pressing matters he should be attending. Drawing in a deep breath, he stretches his athletically slim form over the back of the chair and rolls his shoulders, knowing all too well that there’s nothing he can presently do about those pressing affairs.

Straightening, he places the first two fingers of his left hand on the smooth edge of the PADD screen and turns it a little to the right. “Watching the pot boil…” he mumbles, unsettling green eyes scanning the words displayed on the black screen of the mobile computer without registering them.

With a barely perceptible sigh, the Chief Operations Officer leans forward and commits himself to finish Lt. Moridan’s ops report from her last shift. Sliding the PADD back into his waiting right hand, Lasad raises it once more and jumps to where he left off.

42142.5 was an auspicious day for the crew of the Peregrine and Dio can’t help but feel the tension still coursing through the ship despite his relative newness. Truthfully, the pending return to the starbase is part of the reason he could sleep no more. He hasn’t known Captain Drake long at all but he can see that the human is a man of deep honor and he knows that he’s behaved in the only way he thought he could under the circumstances. Circumstances, Dio has reminded himself time and time again, that could potentially linger with those who serve beneath him.

“Is it too early for a drink?” the Risan asks his empty quarters, suddenly swinging around in his chair and making his way to the small bar he had set up when he had first arrived. “It’s not too early, surely…” He needs to relax his mind, enjoy the pleasures of a woodsy Risan brandy, and forget the pressure of the situation he now finds himself within.

Placing the PADD on the bar, he takes a square, crystalline decanter in hand and pops the bulbous top immediately releasing the potent, earthy scent of the alcohol into the air beneath his nose. Closing his eyes, the operations officer savors the sensation of it tickling his nostrils. As the smell dissipates, he takes up a small, matching tumbler in his other hand and pours the perfect portion. Setting the drink aside, he caps the pitcher and places it back on the tray, takes up his glass, and hatefully eyes the PADD.

“To decisions,” he lifts the glass slightly and holds it towards the computer. “The spice of life.”

Taking a third of the available liquid into his mouth he rolls it about with his tongue allowing the sensations it brings with it to play with all of his senses and sealing the synthetic light of his apartment away with closed eyes. There’s time for him to decide. The Peregrine still has a while before it docks.