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Colin stood by the large window in his ready room, gazing at the blackness beyond as he had done so often in the past weeks. But today, his view was partially obstructed by the dull metallic arm of SB 203's science section. Occasionally, small shuttles and runabouts scurried past like ants as they took thier place in the docking queues. The harsh glare of thier running lights reflected in the window irritated his eyes.
Colin sighed wistfully. He longed to return to deep space--he had never been comfortable planet side--and that included starbases. But he was trapped for the time being as the entire ship's mechanical systems went through an overhaul.
After Lieutenant Jorrell had successfully achieved power, they had limped towards the starbase at a feeble warp 2, the best speed she could offer him with the resources at her disposal. It had taken them a week to arrive, and now it would take another four days to bring all ship's systems online and functioning optimally.
On the plus side, StarFleet Command had granted the crew shore leave and had assigned the dreaded mining rights dispute to the USS Phoenix instead, allowing a grateful Colin Becker a reprieve from diplomatic duty. Instead, he decided, he would spend his time in drydock tackling administrative paperwork. Noone had told him that being a Captain involved THIS much red tape--he would have appreciated a warning.
The door chimed, once, interrupting his train of thought and Colin sighed a second time.
"Come." he called as he crossed the floor.
By the time Mark O'Conner entered, Colin was seated behind his desk, a PADD in his hand.
"Sir." Mark offered stiffly in greeting as he sat down opposite him.
Colin resisted the urge to glance at his chronometer. He didn't have to. It was obviously 1400 hours on the dot. Mark O'Conner was nothing if not punctual.
"Commander." Colin said mildly, not bothering to look up from his PADD. He delayed a moment longer, taking a small measure of satisfaction in the other man's irritation at being kept waiting. At last, he met Mark's gaze, a half smile on his lips at having caught a quickly supressed flicker of resentment.
He was tired of the game his first officer insisted on playing, but he was damned if he'd be the first to offer a truce. The smile faded as he recalled the reason he had arranged this meeting. On his desk was a stack of reassignment requests from officers and crew representing neaqrly every department and division on Prometheus. The ship was approaching the 3 month mark of it's existence--the first opportunity for reassignment-- and that meant crew turnover.
Colin wasn't surprised at the large amount of requests he had recieved--he knew he hadn't won many hearts in his short tenure as Captain-- and he would just as soon start over with a fresh crew minus the poor attitude. The layover at SB 203 was the perfect opportunity to peruse Starfleet's data banks for suitable replacements.
"I need your assistance, Exec, if you can spare some time. I kow you're due for shore leave, " he began, somewhat apologetically, as he pushed the PADD towards his first officer.
Mark shook his head. "It's no problem, sir. What can I do to help?"
"Crew reassignments. I'd like your recommendations on replacements."
Mark eyed the stack but did not comment at the unusually high volume of requests. Instead, he said, "I'll do my best, sir."
Colin had been pleasantly surprised that none of his senior staff had requested reassignment, but he had privately hoped Mark O'Conner would have. His first officer had shown no sign of relenting in his attitude or opinion of his Captain, and Colin therefore did not relish the months to come with Mark at his side. It was painfully obvious they were not suitably matched, and would likely both be happier if they were serving on separate ships.
As Mark sat there silently, Colin felt compelled to to add, "I noticed your name was not among the requests I have recieved thus far."
"No, sir." Mark agreed, but offered nothing further.
"Should I assume you'll be staying on then?"
"No, sir." he said coolly. Realizing his comment required elaboration, he explained, albeit reluctantly, "I haven't made a decision yet."
"I see." Colin was careful to keep his tone mild. He turned his attention once again to the PADD he held. "Please let me know by the time we leave space dock. I would like some notice if I need to search for a replacement."
"Of course, sir." Mark agreeably replied.
"I would like your input on those crew reassignments within the next few days."
"Yes, sir."
"Good. If there is nothing further, you are dismissed. Enjoy your shore leave." He did not look up as Mark's chair scraped the carpet when he pushed it back, nor as his first officer rose and crossed the room. He did not look up until he heard the familiar hiss of the doors closing behind his first officer.
Wordlessly, he put the PADD down and returned to the observation window, feeling the cool pressure of the glass against his palm.
*******************
Rhianna clutched a stack of PADDs protectively to her chest and frowned at the man in the black worksuit who attempted to take them from her.
"I'm fine." she insisted firmly.
He furrowed his brow in puzzlement. "But I can take care of those for you." Prometheus was his repair project-- he was supposed to handle everything from the paperwork on down--but the chief engineer hovered over him and his team like a gnat and refused to butt out.
"I have a duty roster for you." she went on, ignoring his offer. "Captain Becker said my engineers are to coordinate with your crews."
Her staff wouldn't be happy, but it was the only way to ensure everyone had some shore leave. As it was, she had volunteered herself for all extra dutyshifts, alleviating the burden on the others even further.
The man in the black jumpsuit gave the roster a cursory glance, then glared at her suspiciously. "You're doing double shifts almost every day."
Rhianna glared back. "Is that a problem?"
"I thought you people had shore leave."
"My people do." she agreed. "I dont. I'm the chief engineer. This is my ship, my responsibility, and I'm going to help fix her. Got it?"
He held up his hands in mock surrender. "Got it. Got it."
"Good." she smiled coolly.
He nodded unhappily as it dawned on him that he was in store for a miserable four days.
Rhianna heard a startled yelp as an exposed panel short circuited to her left, sparks flying.
"Watch it!" she snarled at the freckled red head who had been working on it.
Turning her accusing gaze to the man in the jumpsuit, she added, "You could obviously benefit from my help."
He glared at the red headed technician stonily, sighed, and took Rhianna by the arm. As she subtley removed it from his grasp, he began to speak,
"If you'll follow me, ma'am, we could use an extra pair of hands on rewiring the weapons systems......"
***********
"Are you almost done, Counselor?" Mirana's voice was heavy with impatience. The obnoxious hologram had persistently hounded her until she had given in and submitted to her annual psychological exam.
The smug counselor had been holding her captive for almost ninety minutes now, making notations on a data PADD at occasional intervals. Louis Zimmerman's identical twin glanced up at her now and frowned.
"But Doctor Keset, there are several more tests I need to run." he objected. "Surely you understand the importance of---"
Mirana interrupted him in midsentence. "What I understand, Counselor, is that you have only five more minutes of my time. Starting now." she said firmly.
"But---"
"Four minutes and 55 seconds. And counting."
The Counselor pursed his lips in disapproval, then sighed.
"Very well." he sniffed.
Mirana couldn't suppress a slight smile as teh hologram hurried through his questions, obviously affronted. Within moments, she had successfully passed her evaluation--Starfleet's finest holographic technology had deemed her sane and fit for continued duty.
Briskly, she made her way down the corridor to the messhall, where Naeve Sevril had been waiting at a corner table.
"Sorry I'm late." Mirana apologized. "The Counselor had me trapped."
"Psych eval? Mine's scheduled for tomorrow afternoon."
"Make sure you've reserved plenty of time for it. He's in no hurry." Mirana grimaced. She glanced at her chronometer. "It's still early. We have plenty of time."
"I'm ready when you are." Naeve grinned.
The two women had become friendly in the past weeks and had planned an afternoon of shopping and sight seeing. The starbase's promenade had a varied and eclectic assortment of shops and restaurants, and the two were looking forward to an afternoon of relaxation and credit spending.
Naeve rose from her seat, grinned again, and led the way to the turbolift. As the doors slid open, Mirana noticed Mark O'Conner leaning casually against one of the 'lift's walls. Naeve's smile faded as they entered, joining him.
"Ladies." he said casually, in greeting. "Going out for a day on the town?"
Mirana grinned as the 'lift descended. "Shopping, sir. It's been a while since my last shore leave."
There was a brief, uncomfortable silence in which Naeve and Mark managed to avoid eye contact.
"Well, enjoy yourselves." Mark finally said as the doors slid open.
Mirana stepped out, Naeve close behind, when Mark continued, "Lieutenant Commander, may I speak with you a moment before you go?"
"Certainly." Naeve was surprised, but wary.
"I'll meet you down the hall." Mirana murmured, and left them, curiosity burning in her eyes.
After a moment, his voice filled the awkward silence. "I'm helping the Captain with the crew transfer requests." he said casually. "I noticed yours wasn't among them."
"No, it wasnt." she readily agreed.
"I'm surprised. You had made it quite clear to me that you would request reassignment at the first opportunity. My offer to expedite your transfer still stands."
"Hope you're not too disappointed but I changed my mind." she said shortly.
"Oh?"
"Not that it's any of your business, but I've decided to give Captain Becker a chance. You should too."
"I didnt ask for your advice." he snapped.
Naeve's smile was without warmth. "May I go now?" she asked dryly.
"Of course. Dont let me keep you."
Turning on her heel, Naeve stalked away, her braid bouncing angrily against her back. She rushed to catch up with Mirana, who was waiting with barely concealed curiosity at the end of the corridor. The other woman noted Naeve's flushed cheeks and raised an eyebrow in amusement.
"What was that all about?"
"Nothing important." Naeve replied evasively. "The Commander was mistaken about something, but I corrected him. Let's go." She began to walk past her.
"You realize you're going to have to elaborate on that." Mirana said pointedly as she fell into step beside her.
***************
It was quiet.
So quiet in fact, that Turek could almost hear the hiss of air coming throuigh the vents into his quarters from above. He sat back in his chair, elbows resting on his desk and clasped his hands. He closed his eyes in contentment.
The silence was certainly......satisfactory.
It had been so long that he had almost forgotten what true silence sounded like. Frequently in the past weeks, he had been forced to contend with the muffled, harsh strains of Klingon opera coming from the wall he shared with Lieutenant Harmon's quarters. Occasionally, this was accompanied by raised voices and heated exchanges that indicated yet another argument with his latest female companion.
But not today. Or tomorrow for that matter. Lieutenant Harmon was on shore leave--Turek did not know how the other man was spending his time below on the starbase, nor did he particularly care. The factr remained that he was gone. Temporarily of course, but his presence would certainly not be missed. Nor would his taste in music. Turek looked forward to the reprieve.
Turek's eyes flew open as his terminal beeped, indicating an incoming external communication. He compressed his lips, the only outward sign of displeasure at the disturbance, and waited for the image on his screen to solidify.
It did not take long.
A woman coolly regarded him from her terminal across the stars. She was seated stiffly erect, barely visible within the voluminous white robes which draped her gaunt frame unbecomingly. The face was smooth, almost ageless in appearance, and the black eyes which bore into his had lost none of their intensity througgh the years. It was her hair that betrayed her advancing age--black streaked liberally with silver--and cut in a severe style which did not flatter her features. A keen observer would have noted a similarity in facial structure--the high cheekbones, the sharp angles of their chins, even the manner in which they warily assessed each other at that moment. Like combatants in a ring.
"Turek." she said in greeting, the gravelly voice belied her advanced age as well.
"Mother." he said grudgingly. His knuckles turned white, but he showed no further outward sign of distress.
"This is unexpected." he continued coolly, regaining his composure.
She arched one delicate brow. "You are surprised." The statement was almost an accusation.
Turek chose to ignore the provocation. "I trust you are well."
T'nel nodded. "Indeed. I trust you are as well. I see you are no longer serving with T'lar." Her voice was tinged with disapproval.
She had opposed his choice to enter Starfleet, but had found it easier to accept when he had been serving with his own kind.
Barely.
"You are correct."Turek said coolly.
"That is regrettable."
"Is there something I can assist you with, Mother? If not, I must return to my duties."
T'nel's sharp eyes sought his again. "I am contacting you to remind you of your brother's upcoming bonding ceremony."
"I have already given S'tek and his betrothed my regrets. My duties here prevent my attendance." His voice was calm and even, betraying no emotion.
"Your duties." T'nel repeated. "Your brother knows his duty."
The remark was meant to sting. S'tek had bowed to thier mother's wishes, as he had always done. Turek had been expected to do the same.
As do I, Mother." Turek's reply was sharper than intended, causing T'nel to raise an eyebrow.
"You are becoming emotional, my son. You have been too long among these humans. I await your return to Vulcan. As does your betrothed." she couldn't resist adding.
"It is unlikely that Lesar objects to my absence. I believe she prefers it."
"You are betrothed." T'nel stiffly pointed out. "Your union is inevitable. I see no logic in delay."
"Perhaps you do not." Turek conceded. "Yet I am not prepared to leave Starfleet as of yet. It is illogical to discuss the matter further."
T'nel scrutinized him silently, pursing her lips. At last, she stonily replied, "Your sister and her mate send greetings. I will convey your.....regrets that your duties prevent you from returning home."
"That is acceptable. Live long and prosper, Mother."
T'nel leaned forward, nodded, and terminated the link without replying.
Silence surrounded Turek once more. Yet, somehow, it was not as....satisfactory as it had been just moments before.
***********
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