USS Rosenante Compile 30 January - 31 January 2008 Compile Index: Mission: A Fine and Private Place Day: 1 Stardate: 2408.01.15 (USS Rosenante – Observation Lounge – CO Captain Susan Rivers – 1019) (USS Rosenante – Observation Lounge – Acting 3O/COUNS Lt Olen Rhinehart – 1021) (USS Rosenante – Observation Lounge – Ashes of Ivor Prime – Chairperson-Elect Dr Laura Schell – 1021) (USS Rosenante – Bridge – FNN – Correspondent Hal Stanza – 1416) Day 2 Stardate: 2408.01.16 (USS Rosenante - Bridge- -Lt. Cmdr. Ahmed Ibn Salid-0900) (USS Rosenante - Ready Room - CO - Captain Susan Rivers - 1301) (USS Rosenante - Ready Room - ACOUNS/LT Dorga 'cha Nooras - 1304) (USS Rosenante – Deck 10 – Counselling – 3O/COUNS – Lt Olen Rhinehart – 1653) Day 3 Stardate: 2408.01.17 (USS Rosenante - Nooras Quarters - ACOUNS/LT Dorga 'cha Nooras - 0630) (USS Rosenante - Transporter Room 2 - ACOUNS/LT Dorga 'cha Nooras - 0634) Day 7 Stardate: 2408.01.21 (SS Sky of Tomorrow - Command Deck- CO- Captain Jason Carter- 1000) (USS Rosenante – Bridge – 3O/COUNS – Lt Olen Rhinehart – 2353) Day 8 Stardate: 2408.01.22 (USS Rosenante – Personal Quarters -Lt. Cmdr. Ahmed Ibn Salid-0001) (USS Rosenante – Personal Quarters - Acting CMO Lt jg Nissa Whetari – 0011) (USS Rosenante – Bridge -Lt. Cmdr. Ahmed Ibn Salid-0012) Compile begins: Mission: A Fine and Private Place Day: 1 Stardate: 2408.01.15 (USS Rosenante – Observation Lounge – CO Captain Susan Rivers – 1019) Susan noticed how Laura Schell's seemingly permanent smile, which never quite reached her eyes, flickered and vanished for a moment when she asked her if she had anything she wished to add. She wondered for an instant if she had been mistaken, but the woman's reply cleared that misapprehension. “Nothing in particular at this time, Ms Rivers,” she said, her voice dripping with saccharine. "The correct form of address would be *Captain* Rivers," Susan replied with slightly chilly politeness, drawing on her limited well of diplomacy to remain pleasant. "If I have been incorrectly informed of the correct way to address you, please correct me." It wouldn't be long before her well of diplomacy ran dry though, she thought, if this woman kept up the attitude. She needed to find out what was eating Schell, and why her name was familiar. Not just, she was sure, from the logs of the Champlain's missions prior to Susan taking command. There was something else... And that false smile. It raised her hackles and an awareness of things not being what they were on the surface. ~So much for an easy first mission~ === (USS Rosenante – Observation Lounge – Acting 3O/COUNS Lt Olen Rhinehart – 1021) Rhinehart fiddled restlessly with a PADD, scrolling heedlessly through files as the briefing unwound, doing his best not to stare at the stony-faced Dr Schell radiating hostility at the head of the table. The mission, as described by the admiral, sounded as much like a PR exercise as it did a task of genuine importance – the presence of the FNN correspondent who'd covered the Champlain's final flight confirmed that – but on the other hand, he knew all too well the 'sand in the underpants' effect Laura Schell could have on people, and she certainly didn't lack for savvy in manipulating those around her. Played right, there would be smiles all around by the time the mission was over. So why was Rhinehart nursing the inexplicable impression, coiled like a chill viper around an ever-deepening sense of dread, that returning to active service against his better judgement had been the wrong thing to do? "And now, any questions about our mission?" the captain asked, after the admiral had left. He scowled down at the PADD, shaking his head imperceptibly in reply. He listened with half an ear to the questions that followed, only glancing up when Laura publically corrected the captain's use of her title. ~That was unwise, Laura,~ he thought. It was still her fashion, it seemed, to make antagonists out of authority figures. He couldn't for the life of him see how it would serve her. As the meeting wound toward its conclusion, he turned his face to the large windows, both wider and taller than their equivalent on the Champlain had been. From their vantage point at Valhalla, the dusting of stars had one dot larger than the rest, Earth, a blue-tinged pinprick staring balefully back at him, offering him nothing. Though he had ventured across dozens of anonymous solar systems and out into the beta quadrant, it seemed as if his homeworld was more distant now than it had ever been. There could be no going back, because there was nothing to go back to. ~Nothing out there,~ he thought. ~And nothing in here, either. Nothing but what's ahead of us.~ He hit the power stud on the PADD, forcefully pushing the sense of dread aside. He resolved to make the best of it. === (USS Rosenante – Observation Lounge – Ashes of Ivor Prime – Chairperson-Elect Dr Laura Schell – 1021) "The correct form of address would be *Captain* Rivers," Susan replied, voice clad in ice. "If I have been incorrectly informed of the correct way to address you, please correct me." “My deepest apologies, Captain. The proper salutation must have slipped my mind,” she replied, not believing for one second that the slight hadn't been deliberate. The smile dropped. “Inexcusable really, in light of the fact that I'm aboard your ship as the nominated executive of an entire colonial population, and that's not even to mention those PhDs I worked so bloody hard for. Either 'doctor' or 'chairperson' seem an appropriate choice, I think. Captain.” She paused and drew breath, appreciating for a moment the stunned silence that reverberated around the room, basking in their horrified attention. She'd be no lapdog, least of all for these Starfleet goons. “I'd appreciate it if we could kick this voyage off on the right foot by you taking the small consideration of affording me the respect I believe I've earned. I'm more than happy to reciprocate,” she said, sitting back with finality in her seat. === (USS Rosenante – Bridge – FNN – Correspondent Hal Stanza – 1416) The last time they'd beamed their gear aboard a Starfleet vessel, Hal Stanza and his cameraman/partner Davok had been literally flying by the seat of their pants. With no official brief, or even a remit to be there, they had somehow bamboozled the poor transporter chief into accepting their beam-up request from the war-scourged planet of Tellar Prime, and from there, had bluffed their way to the exclusive report that had carved their names in journalistic legend forever. 'The Final Flight of the Champlain' had received an unprecedented reaction, not only from the network, but from the Starfleet brass as well, who had latched onto the film as an instrumental plank in their strategy of winning back the hearts and minds of the beleagured Federation citizenry. For Stanza and Davok, it had meant not just that long sought-after Roddenberry gong, the cap to a short but storied partnership, but along with it a host of lesser plaudits – not to mention highly-paid talk show appearances, stratospherically-salaried media consultancies and, most lucrative of all, even offers for product endorsements and advertisements (the latter of which he had turned down, naturally, in the name of integrity.) By the same token, it was true that some now saw him as little more than a Federation mouthpiece, a Starfleet apologist, or worse, a war criminal with complicity in the actions that had so sullied Starfleet's name. Stanza paid them no mind. People were, for the most part, stupid creatures with short memories, and history, as was well known, was written by the winners. A year or two of prosperity and peace, he knew, and they would remember only Hal the Hero, not Stanza the Sycophant. He and Davok had taken the last few months off, agreeing to reconvene if and when the right project came along. He had spent his downtime seeking out a nice quiet spot to build a mansion in which to enjoy what he was beginning to suspect might be his impending retirement, and dictating the early chapters of his memoirs (Working title: 'Press Space: The Hal Stanza Story'). In fact, he had been working on an especially heroic passage concerning his ground-breaking coverage of the Tellarite resistance's overnight renaissance during the brutal and bloody civil war when a new offer had come in: Starfleet was launching a brand new vessel, the first of her class, on a new mission of exploration, and with a humanitarian brief to resettle a group of colonists thought lost for nearly 35 years. The brass were looking for positive media coverage to help spur along the rehabilitation of Starfleet's image, and felt that not only was this story an ideal vehicle, but that Stanza was the perfect correspondent to relate it. Without being big-headed, he'd had to agree with them on that point. But when he spotted the name of the new ship's CO, the deal had become irresistible. He had contacted Davok, and with his agreement, had accepted the brief, on the proviso that the usual press-pack would be kept well away from the maiden flight. He would have the launch as an FNN exclusive, and freedom thereafter to report from the frontier as he saw fit, or they would have no Hal Stanza. Furthermore, he would have it in writing, signed by nothing less than a rear-admiral – a trump card to keep in reserve should Captain Rivers' legendary butt-stick find reason to disagree with him. To his astonishment, his terms had been met. Nowadays, it seemed, he really could name his price. So it was with great pleasure that he took his place on the bridge for the bottle-breaking ceremony, free to direct coverage as he wanted. He breathed a sigh at how dignified and quiet it seemed, by comparison with launches he had attended in the past – characterised by shouted questions, undignified jostling and a general sense of discomfort on the part of the officers under the media glare. Davok was by his side, holo-cam ever-alert. Several drone units hovered above the cargo bay ceremony and outside the vessel's collosal hull, bright against the blackness of space under the floodlamps' glare. One drone in particular tracked the effortless, slow spin of a champagne bottle as it crossed vacuum, to impact soundlessly against the hull. Glittering crystals of frozen liquid spun outward like frost. “Release docking clamps,” Captain Rivers announced, her voice resonant with import. “Docking clamps released, sir.” “Take us out, Mr Dralar,” she said.” Stanza couldn't help but smile as the band struck up. For all its purported arrogance or indifference, he had to admit, Starfleet had a sense of occasion. “Lay in a course for Optima 7, Mr Dralar. Ahead warp 9. Engage!” Stanza's grin widened. He just couldn't wait to cut this. === Day 2 Stardate: 2408.01.16 (USS Rosenante - Bridge- -Lt. Cmdr. Ahmed Ibn Salid-0900) [First Officers Log, Stardate 2408.01.16] [It is exciting to finally be able to explore rather than to fight. Despite my position as first officer and my rank of Lieutenant Commander, I am almost as excited now as I was when I stepped aboard my very first training ship during my Academy Days.] [I find it exhilarating, and judging by the smiles on the faces of the crew, they do as well. The ability to return to our roots of exploration, rather than worry over the possibility that we might die in a battle during the civil war, has rejuvenated the explorer in each of us.] [I have noticed several of the senior officer reporting slightly early for their shifts in anticipation of seeing something new for the very first time. I can not say that I blame them, since I myself was almost a half an hour early this morning as well.] [The possibility of traveling into the unknown is a tempting lure, that I dare say many of us have no power to overcome. It is the hope of seeing what orbits the next star, or what strange new civilizations we may encounter that drove each of us to join Starfleet in the first place.] [We have been maintaining a high warp, in an attempt to accurately judge the ship's endurance on our way to the Optima System. I must say I am impressed both with the ship's performance as well as Lieutenant Bird's ability to run a solid engineering department. We've used the Spiral Drive for two relatively short jaunts so that those components could be tested as well. Lieutenant Matrix seems pleased with their performance, although he mentioned that he'd like to 'tweak some things a bit more' before we use it for any substantial length of time.] [At our current speed we are expected to drop out of warp in the Optima system in a little under 192 hours. The system is well beyond the edge of Federation space, and was only briefly surveyed by a Federation team a little over three years ago. The class M Planet, the seventh in the system, appears to be very suitable as a potential colony world. We have scheduled a series of geological and meteorological surveys to help us gather additional information for Doctor Schell to review.] [Even if this planet does turn out to be to her liking, I suspect that she may like to survey a few more to give her something for comparison. That suits me perfectly fine, since it gives myself and the crew the opportunity to do even more exploration.] [end log] Ahmed smiled as he finally finished his log entry. This was the first that he had written where he had actually detailed some of his feelings rather than the usual bland technical reports. It was a different sort of log entry; one that he felt really allowed him to express his pleasure at the mission that they've been given. He took a long look around the bridge. The captain was reviewing some of the morning reports in her ready room, so he could appreciate the perfect view of every station on the bridge. Every piece of machinery worked in harmony with the officers manning the stations. Olen was now on Gamma watch and Janeway on the Beta shift. Although Janeway insisted in being on the bridge from time to time during the Alpha shift, just as Ahmed sometimes relieved the Second officer on the Beta shift. A good solid crew with good solid officers would take the Rosenante very far indeed. And Ahmed was very happy to be second in command of such a fine vessel. === (USS Rosenante - Ready Room - CO - Captain Susan Rivers - 1301) They finished their lunch, talking about their families and other, non-duty related things but eventually it was time to part. Reluctantly, it seemed, Dorga said goodbye and gave Susan a massive hug. "Our paths are sure to meet again, you haven't seen the last of me." Dorga told her friend and Captain. "Be sure to keep in touch with me, and I will certainly send you updates." "Be very sure I will!" Susan promised her friend. "And you had better send those updates. I want to hear how you are doing, and how my godchildren are doing. There aren't so many children on the Boudicca - in fact as far as I know there may only be the Stolev twins. They'd be a little younger than Luisa, so not really companions for Parami and Rivers. But there may be more now, of course. During the war there were hardly any, but things have changed. The Boudicca's still a battleship though. So maybe not so many families there as here." (reply Dorga) "I'm sure you'll all do just fine," Susan said. "You know the Boudicca has always meant a lot to me, she was my first command and I have a soft spot for her still. I'm glad she's getting a good officer like you in a command spot. I know you'll be good for the ship." === (USS Rosenante - Ready Room - ACOUNS/LT Dorga 'cha Nooras - 1304) "Our paths are sure to meet again, you haven't seen the last of me." Dorga told her friend and Captain. "Be sure to keep in touch with me, and I will certainly send you updates." Dorga released Susan from her massive hug and held her friend at arm length, smiling sadly, she was really going to miss her. "Be very sure I will!" Susan promised Dorga. "And you had better send those updates. I want to hear how you are doing, and how my godchildren are doing. There aren't so many children on the Boudicca - in fact as far as I know there may only be the Stolev twins. They'd be a little younger than Luisa, so not really companions for Parami and Rivers. But there may be more now, of course. During the war there were hardly any, but things have changed. The Boudicca's still a battleship though. So maybe not so many families there as here." That was disappointing news, because one of the reasons why Dorga had wanted her children with her aboard her duty ship, was so they would have more interaction with other children and other species. Formerly her twins had been raised and tutored on her ancestral estate together with a handful of young from estate workers' families, all of them Vulcan. Some serious thinking and weighing of pros and cons would definitely be in order as far as her children's immediate future was concerned. "I'm sure you'll all do just fine," Susan said. "You know the Boudicca has always meant a lot to me, she was my first command and I have a soft spot for her still. I'm glad she's getting a good officer like you in a command spot. I know you'll be good for the ship." "Thanks, your confidence in me means more than you realize and I'm determined to do my very best for my new billet, but right now I need to go back to my quarters and pack before I start beta shift. You know me, I do like to be organized and I hate last minute hustle." She leaned in and pecked Susan on each cheek, giving her one more hug, a more gentle one this time. "Give the munchkin a hug and kiss from me. Love you guys lots." Dorga smiled, gave a nod and quickly left the Ready Room. She just had time to pack the very few things that she'd acquired since the Champlain's destruction. === (USS Rosenante – Deck 10 – Counselling – 3O/COUNS – Lt Olen Rhinehart – 1653) Rhinehart took the vacant seat by her desk as Dorga tuned the harp, delighted at the joy with which she'd received it. The tune that she picked out was astonishingly beautiful, a simple haunting melody entwined with a contrapuntal major-key theme played in the higher register that bespoke the comfort of a mother's arms. The piece was an eloquent summary of a child's misgivings about the dark blanket of sleep, loose and free-flowing as it followed the strangely languorous rhythm of the traditional Vulcan waltz. In the hands of a player like Dorga, who obviously loved her instrument, it raised the hairs on the back of his neck. And though he didn't yet know it, many would be the times that he requested the piece from the computer's music library when he was drinking by himself in his haphazard quarters, with only his memories for company. The silence that settled over the office as the music died seemed uninvited and yet it was not unwelcome, a spell-woven pause that seemed to ring with the song's gentle harmony. She raised her brown eyes, and he was startled to see that they were moist. "Yes," she said. "I will miss you very much." He smiled tenderly, warmly, even as he felt his throat go tight again. He relaxed in the chair, feeling no particular compulsion to move just yet, no need to break the silence that seemed infused with electricity and yet calm and serene at the same time. “Thank-you, Dorga,” he said, at last, exhaling deeply. “You play beautifully.” He tilted his head fractionally to one side. “Time for another?” === Day 3 Stardate: 2408.01.17 (USS Rosenante - Nooras Quarters - ACOUNS/LT Dorga 'cha Nooras - 0630) =^= Lieutenant Nooras report to transporter room 2 for transfer to the SS Kahuna. =^= Dorga tapped her commbadge, "I'll be right there. Nooras out." She bent down and hefted her kitbag over her left shoulder, took a last look around to make sure she'd not forgotten anything and smiled softly as she picked up the beautiful harp (that Olen and Sally had given her as a goodbye gift), which was now encased safely in a special travel case she'd had replicated last night. Now it was time to slip silently away into the void, to start a new life on another star ship. "Computer shut off lights and lock door after I leave." The lights immediately switched off, plunging the quarters into darkness quickly relieved by the opening of the door as she walked towards it. ~No, not goodbye, just farewell.~ She thought as she left the empty quarters and stepped into the hallway. === (USS Rosenante - Transporter Room 2 - ACOUNS/LT Dorga 'cha Nooras - 0634) At this early hour, Dorga hadn't expected to really see anyone except the transporter operator. She had said all her farewells yesterday and didn't expect to have a send off, but she was pleasantly surprised when she walked into the Transporter Room. Day 7 Stardate: 2408.01.21 (SS Sky of Tomorrow - Command Deck- CO- Captain Jason Carter- 1000) Jason, rushed down the darkening corridor as the scraping continued behind him. He leapt over the discarded EVA suit that lay crumpled in the corridor, there'd be no time to put it on now. He hadn't anticipated things going so badly so quickly. The lighting flickered as he quickly stepped through the blast door onto the bridge. A small shower of sparks fell from a damaged conduit in the roof. He slapped his hand against the emergency close button just as it rounded the corner. The door slammed closed with a resounding clang. "Computer activate self destruct mechanism. Authorization Carter Alpha one." [Unable to comply. Self destruct mechanism is not functional,] "Damn it!" Jason swore, they must have guessed his plans, now he couldn't stop it here. "Computer " Jason paused. Time was running out There was a pounding on the door, at first it was the dull thud of flesh and bone against the bulkhead. Then there was the clanging of metal on metal. He looked around the bridge looking for anything that he could use as a weapon when they came through the door. He knew it was futile, but he couldn't resist the sense of false security that even an ineffective weapon offered him. "Computer, he began again, "record following. And broadcast on all emergency frequencies. Activate telemetry beacon." [Beacon activated. Recording transmission.] "Attention any federation ship this is the UFP freighter Sky of Tomorrow, we need immediate assistance. Say again immediate assistance…" The power fluctuated then. Everything went black. He heard the door open. It was an emergency protocol to prevent someone from being trapped on the bridge during a power failure. He could hear them shuffling in the dark. "Get back!" he screamed frantically. "Get away from me!" There was pain then and screaming…. Quietly the computer recorded every sound, transmitting it for everyone to hear the demise of Captain Jason Carter. === (USS Rosenante – Bridge – 3O/COUNS – Lt Olen Rhinehart – 2353) [Third Officer's Log, Stardate 2408.01.21, Gamma Watch] [The Rosenante is now approximately two days from the Optima system. So far, the new vessel has performed admirably, with very little in the way of teething troubles, a fact which is doubtless contributing to the general atmosphere of optimism and excitement among the crew. My office has seen very few of the traditional anxieties generally reported in the lead-up to, and aftermath of, a new vessel's launch, which is surprising to say the least, in light of the new intake of crew and the as-yet untried nature of this ship's class. Still, I find myself hopeful that the ebullient spirit will continue long into the voyage – we are much overdue something to be positive about.] [Dr Schell has also, in her muted way, expressed optimism about the preliminary survey data regarding Optima VII, although her unapologetic antagonism and paranoia are, I think, rubbing some of the senior staff the wrong way, especially in light of the effort we are going to, purely for the sake of 'her' colonists. It is hard to excuse such immaturity in a woman who seeks recognition as a leader, but by the same token, she has withstood a great deal over the past year, and I think we owe her the benefit of the doubt. My hope is that as our search produces more concrete results, she will come to see us as benefactors and allies, rather than enemies or persecutors.] [On a personal note, I am currently in command of my third bridge watch since having passed the requisite exam, and I am both gratified and humbled at the faith shown in me by not only my superiors, but also the other senior officers who find themselves under my authority. It would false to say the new responsibilities have not been daunting, but they have, collectively, made the transition as painless as possible. With that said, each watch has, so far, been entirely uneventful, and given the depopulated nature of the bridge at this hour, it is, to say the least, qui-] “Sir!” came the cry, interrupting Rhinehart's train of thought. The comms ensign's call sawed across the spacious bridge, almost deserted at this hour. “I'm picking up audio, on a priority carrier. Distress beacon too.” Rhinehart frowned, momentarily wondering why it had to be his watch. “Let's hear it, Ensign,” he said. The overhead speakers hissed into life as the distant signal was resolved. The voice was haunted, desperate, underpinned by the howl of alert sirens and what sounded like the clanging of metal on metal. =^=Attention any federation ship this is the UFP freighter Sky of Tomorrow, we need immediate assistance. Say again immediate assistance…=^= The signal was almost lost in a burst of interference before it resolved. Rhinehart frowned, his eyes locked on those of Gibson, the comms officer. What, exactly were they listening to? =^=Get back!=^= the voice screamed suddenly. Rhinehart jumped an inch out of the command chair. =^=Get away from me!=^= His eyes slid closed at the blood-curdling scream that ripped from the speakers, the savage feral sounds of... what? There was a beat of silence as the audio cut out. The temperature on the bridge seemed at least two degrees colder, and the hairs on the back of his neck tingled. Slowly, he opened his eyes to see the skeleton bridge crew staring back at him. “Sir?” said Gibson expectantly. Then he remembered. It was his call. He took a moment to order his thoughts. “Okay,” he said, more to himself than the to the crew. “Helm, divert course for that beacon, full warp. What's our ETA?” “Three hours, sir,” came the reply. “Very well. Mr Gibson,” he said, turning back to the comms officer. “Notify Starfleet of what we've found, and let them know we're responding. Append the distress call, they're going to want to hear it. After that, open hailing frequencies. Try and raise that ship, and keep trying.” He tapped his combadge. “Rhinehart to Rivers, Salid and Janeway,” he said. “We've just encountered a pretty disturbing distress call, I think you'd all better get up here. I've already diverted course to investigate.” (Reply Rivers, Salid, Janeway) “Understood, I'll get on it. Rhinehart out.” He took a moment as the bridge crew executed his orders to gather his thoughts. Mentally, he ran down the list of who was on duty. Then he tapped his combadge. “Rhinehart to Dr Whetari,” he said. (Reply Whetari) “We've just picked up a nasty-sounding distress signal. I've diverted to investigate. ETA is three hours, and there are almost certainly casualties. That's all I know, so far. Will sickbay be ready?” (Reply Whetari) “Thanks, doctor. Rhinehart out.” He took a breath. “Bridge to Lt Bird.” (Reply Bird) “We're en route to a distress signal, Paul, maximum warp. We're three hours out, and your expertise might well be needed. I'll tell you more when I know more. For now, just give us all the speed you can.” (Reply Bird) “Understood, Rhinehart out.” He paused again for a moment's thought. “Rhinehart to Ensign Tuk,” he said, tapping the badge once more. (Reply Tuk) “We've just picked up a distress beacon and a mayday call. Can you start a long range sensor sweep of the beacon co-ordinates and see if there's anything out there?” (Reply Tuk) “Also, I'm wondering if there's any way you can analyse the audio stream for some clues as to what might have happened. There's some strange sounds buried in the background.” (Reply Tuk) “Okay, thanks. Be warned though, it's pretty grisly stuff. Rhinehart out.” He heaved a sigh. Almost covered, he thought. Almost... “Rhinehart to Ensign Smith,” he said. (Reply Smith) “We've diverted to investigate a distress beacon, Robert,” he said. “I don't know the details yet, but we should be prepared for the worst. For the time being, co-ordinate with engineering, make sure they have all they need.” (Reply Smith) “Thanks, Robert. Rhinehart out.” He sat back in the central chair, suddenly feeling tiny between its arms. He didn't think he'd overlooked anything... so all that was left to do was wait. === Day 8 Stardate: 2408.01.22 (USS Rosenante – Personal Quarters -Lt. Cmdr. Ahmed Ibn Salid-0001) It was a warm balmy day in the Mediterranean sea, and Ahmed sat pulling gently on the captain's wheel of the small sailing craft while Jasmin was setting out the picnic lunch that they'd brought along. The sea was calm and there was a gentle breeze that Ahmed had tacked into with his sails to give the ship some momentum and speed. They had borrowed a boat from the sailing school that belonged to his uncle for the day and had decided to make it a combination celebration party and farewell. Jasmin had been promoted back to Lieutenant Senior grade and given a berth aboard the USS Tecumseh, where she would return to a position as ACMO. It was a wonderful turn of events considering the outcome of her tribunal and both officers could appreciate the fact that she could resume her career albeit in a peacetime setting. Ahmed turned to look back at her on the lower deck. She was beautiful and happy and Ahmed always wanted to remember her in this way. They had both come to the mutual understanding that long term relationships between two people on distant starships wasn't feasible, and so this trip was to be the last time they would likely see each other. She turned up to look at him, a warm smile on her face. She opened her mouth and chirped. The unusual sound was immediately followed by a voice that was not hers. =^= Rhinehart to Rivers, Salid and Janeway, We've just encountered a pretty disturbing distress call, I think you'd all better get up here. I've already diverted course to investigate.=^= She said smiling, even as she faded away and Ahmed opened his eyes to the familiar ceiling of his quarters. Ahmed moaned slightly as he sat up. He ran a hand through his hair and spoke aloud. "Understood Mister Rhinehart, I'll be there shortly. Salid out" He took a couple of deep breaths, smiling at the now dimming memory of that day, even as he pulled himself out of bed. "Computer replicate one cup of Turkish coffee, blend Salid twenty-two." he commanded even as he headed for the bathroom. After his ablutions and washing his face, he quickly replicated a fresh uniform and downed the now cooled cup of coffee quickly. He grabbed his commbadge and rank pips and headed quickly for the bridge, putting them in place even as he went. === (USS Rosenante – Personal Quarters - Acting CMO Lt jg Nissa Whetari – 0011) ~Run for the stone house across the bright meadow, handsome stranger! I’ll…wait what is this pond? It must be a fiendish trap launched by…~ [Chirp] =/\= Rhinehart to Dr Whetari.=/\= Nissa opened her eyes, blinking. ~Cricket spies? What….who…save the sheep…where is handsome stranger?~ Shaking the sleep from her head and sitting up into a slouch, Nissa stopped and looked around. “Computer, one-sixth illumination.” The computer complied and Nissa looked around. Realizing that someone was trying to contact her, she smacked her nightstand a few times, eventually hitting her combadge. “Whetari here – go ahead.” =/\=We've just picked up a nasty-sounding distress signal. I've diverted to investigate. ETA is three hours, and there are almost certainly casualties. That's all I know, so far. Will sickbay be ready?=/\= A voice sounding much like Counselor Rhinehart replied. It took Nissa a moment to process the information, but her mind and reaction woke her up quickly. “Sickbay will be ready, Lieutenant. I’ll prepare trauma and triage teams and have at least three technicians ready to accompany an away team if the situation warrants it. Thank you for the advance notice – please keep me informed if we learn more.” =/\=Thanks, doctor. Rhinehart out.=/\= A plan of attack, so to speak, was already forming in Nissa’s head, even as Rhinehart thanked her. Most of the plans that Dr. Caskie had worked on for the Champlain would be easily adaptable for the Rosenante. At this time of night, the Sickbay staff was fewer and sometimes less experienced than the other shifts, but since they had no idea what they would be finding in three hours, Nissa figured that it couldn’t hurt to put Alpha shift medical staff on level 1 alert, keeping Beta shift on standby. “Dr. Whetari to all medical personnel.” Nissa paused for a moment and then continued. “The ship has received a distress call. We are approximately three hours out, but the nature of the call indicates that we will be seeing an unknown number of causalities. Sickbay is now on Level one alert for Alpha Team personnel, form your teams and report to your assigned positions in Sickbay. Designated on-site trauma teams – prepare for possible away team participation.. Beta shift, you are on stand-by. All Alpha and Gamma Shift personnel will meet in Sickbay at 0100 for a brief meeting. Whetari out.” (Reply anyone if they want to play NPC medical) Nissa wanted to be certain that she had her most experienced Doctors in Sickbay, but Dr. Henna-Star was assigned to Beta Shift. “Dr. Whetari to Dr. Henna-Star.” === (USS Rosenante – Bridge -Lt. Cmdr. Ahmed Ibn Salid-0012) The doors to the turbolift slid back and Ahmed stepped out onto the bridge with a quick step, following the captain off the lift. With a nod he dropped into the First officer's chair as Rhinehart turned over the captain's chair to the CO. He settled into the chair even as he pulled up their relative speed and location on the holographic interface. Attached to his chair. The displays were jammed with information and Ahmed quickly pulled up the ship's logs for the last 30 minutes. He scrolled through them quickly, noting the efficiency that Olen had shown in making his decisions concerning the course deviation. Authors: Hanspeter Bosshard Sarah Feldman Liz Geuken Daniel Green Sal Hammond __________ NOD32 2870 (20080212) Information __________ This message was checked by NOD32 antivirus system. http://www.eset.com