Star Trek: Maverick - Against The Tide

[Callum MacLeod]

Stardate: 51149.5 (February 24, 2374. 13:37 Federation Standard Starship Time)
Admiral William Ross’s office, Starbase 375
United Federation Of Planets

The harsh lights of Admiral William Ross’s office on Starbase 375 seemed designed to strip away any illusion of comfort, reflecting the grim reality of the Dominion War. Verek Thorne, fresh from his promotion ceremony, stood stiffly at attention, the new Captain’s pips feeling heavier than they looked.

"Captain Thorne." Ross’s voice, raspy and worn, matched the office decor. "You understand the gravity of the situation."

"Yes, sir. The Dominion is advancing on all fronts." Thorne replied, his Vulcan-honed control barely masking the surge of anticipation and apprehension churning within him.

"Precisely. That’s why Starfleet has decided to…reallocate…resources. You’ve been given command of the USS Maverick." Ross gestured to a PADD on his desk. He paused, allowing the gravity of the situation to sink in before continuing. “But let’s not mince words, Captain. The crew you’re getting aren't exactly Starfleet’s poster children.”

“How so, Admiral.” O’Connell asked, “If I may.”

“You may, Captain,” Ross replied, his gaze never leaving Thorne’s face. “Lieutenant Commander Ro is your XO, chief tactical officer and ops officer. She rejoined Starfleet when the general amnesty was offered. Your chief engineer, Lieutenant Haaj, has a chip on his shoulder the size of a runabout. You’re helmsman is a natural pilot, but she’s green – fresh out of the academy. Your CMO’s competent but young. If it wasn’t for the war she’d still be in line for an assistant CMO billet.”

Thorne frowned slightly, “And my mission, sir?"

“The Federation colony on Volanis III is about to fall. We’re evacuating as many civilians as possible before the Dominion land troops. Your ship is to escort the transport convoy and ensure their safe passage."

"Are any other ships defending the convoy?" Thorne asked.

"Only one. The Bluefin. She's an old Albacore class cutter on loan from border service ship and under the command of Captain Joseph Akinola."

"Understood, sir. Is there anything else?"

"No, Captain. Please report to the Maverick and get underway ASAP. Dismissed." Ross said firmly.

Once Thorne had exited the office a side door whooshed open and in walked a fair haired human man in a Starfleet command division uniform with the insignia of a deputy director on the collar.

“Its done Sloan.” Ross said, “Can you tell me why it was necessary? He doesn’t have enough time in grade as an XO to qualify for a command of his own.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Admiral.” Sloan said with all the charm of a Ferengi used shuttle salesman, “There’s a war going on. One that we’re loosing.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Ross said.

“I know.” Sloan said ominously.

Without saying anything Sloan else triple tapped his combadge triggering an automatic beam out that made him disappear in s swirl of light that looked like a cross between a Federation transporter effect and the transporter effect of a Dominion long range transporter.

 

[Callum MacLeod]

Stardate: 51149.5 (February 24, 2374. 13:37 Federation Standard Starship Time)
USS Maverick NCC-74286 docked with Starbase 375
United Federation Of Planets

Thorne’s arrival on the bridge was met with a mix of curiosity and guarded skepticism. The first officer, Lieutenant Commander Ro Laren, stood rigidly by her station, her Bajoran eyes narrowed in assessment. She was a wiry woman, her face etched with the lines of countless battles.

"Captain Thorne." she greeted him, her voice devoid of warmth. "Welcome aboard the Maverick. I am Lieutenant Commander Ro Laren, your first officer and chief tactical and operations officer."

“So you’re our top gun.” Thorne stated.

“Yes, sir.” Ro replied warily.

"Are you Ro Laren from the Enterprise-D and the Wellington?" Thorne queried.

"Yes, sir." Ro replied warily knowing that her past and her defection to the Maquis had made her unpopular with many Starfleet personnel.

"I look forward to serving with you."

"To be honest, sir. I'm surprised to hear that. Given my past." Ro said honesty.

With a chuckle Thorne said, "I'm a bit of a... lursh disturber too. I'm sure you've noticed the ears and the Terran surname."

"Yes, sir. But I wasn't going to pry." Ro replied honestly.

"Long story short I've rejected my Vulcan side and embraced my human side. I'm as emotional as any Human." Thorne explained, "Hell I even love telling dad jokes. But since I don't have any kids i guess that makes me a... faux pa."

"Sir?"

“Nevermind...If you wouldn’t mind, Commander?” Thorne prompted.

“Computer, transfer command to Captain Thorne. Authorization Ro gamma six seven six.” Ro announced to the computer.

“Captain Thorne, do you concur?” The computer asked.

“I concur. Authorization Thorne omega three two three.” Thorne replied.

“USS Maverick is now under the command of Captain Verek Thorne.” The computer announced neutrally.

Before anyone could respond, a gruff voice boomed from the engineering console, "About time someone showed up to boss us around! Glar Lek Haaj, Chief Engineer, can we get going now?"

A Tellarite, broad and barrel-chested, swiveled in his chair, his bristly beard twitching. His demeanor was openly hostile, his words dripping with sarcasm.

"Lieutenant," Thorne said seeing the two full pips of a Lieutenant on the Tellarite's collar, carefully keeping his voice even. "I appreciate your… enthusiasm, Lieutenant Haaj. Can I assume the Maverick is ship shape?"

"As much as any ship can be with all the supply issues this thrice damned yarliq-assed war is creating.” Haaj scoffed.

"I trust you can keep her running, Chief?" Thorne said trying to suppress the grin.

"I always do, Captain," Haaj said with a surprising hint of pride. "I'll be in engineering, I have a warp core to harass."

Walking over to the helm he extended his hand introducing himself, "Verek Thorne."

Standing the youthful redhead shook his hand nervously, "M.. Miranda Cruise, sir."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Thorne said, "Admiral Ross told me that you're a natural pilot."

"T..thank-you, sir."

"I look forward to you proving the admiral right." Thorne said before he headed to the center seat. As he sat down in the center seat, HIS seat, he said, "Ensign Cruise, request clearance from the starbase to depart. We've got an evacuation effort on Cygni three to protect."

Moments later the Cruise, replied, "Ops has cleared us, Captain. All umbilicals and moorings have been retracted. We're operating on internal power and are ready to depart on your order."

"Take us out. Once we're clear of the outer marker lay in a course for Volanis III and engage at warp nine." Thorne replied. "I want to get there before the Jem'Hadar and the Cardies."

"Aye sir." Ensign Miranda Cruise said as her fingers danced across the helm.

The Maverick shuddered as it pulled away from the starbase, its powerful engines spitting out plumes of ionized gas. Thorne felt a thrill course through him, a mix of anticipation and responsibility. The fate of countless civilians rested on his shoulders, and he wouldn't let them down.

"Warp nine, engaged!" Ensign Cruise announced, her voice still a little shaky. As the Maverick hurtled through space, its viewscreen showing the familiar sight of points of light rushing past for the edges of the viewscreen.

Thorne turned to Ro, "Commander, I want a full diagnostic report on the ship's systems. I want to know everything – strengths, weaknesses, potential problems. Anything that could impact our ability to defend the convoy."

Ro nodded curtly. "Understood, Captain. I'll have it to you within the hour."

"Good." Thorne steepled his fingers. "Also, Lieutenant Commander, I'd like your honest assessment of the crew. No sugar coating."

Ro's eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm fairly new to the ship, but from what I've seen and read the Maverick has seen a lot of action. Some of the crew have been here since the beginning of the war. They're experienced, hardened… some might say jaded. They've seen COs and XOs come and go, promises made and broken. They'll follow orders, but earning their trust will take time."

"I understand," Thorne said.

Thorne wasn't surprised at all. He knew that the Defiant-class ships tended to create a certain type of officer, ones that had been chewed up and spat back out by. They were survivors, but they carried the scars of the war with them.

As the Maverick raced towards Volanis III, Thorne began to review tactical schematics of the colony. The Dominion advance was rapid, and the colony's defenses were already crumbling. Time was of the essence.

Forty minutes later, Ro approached Thorne carrying a PADD. "Captain, the diagnostic report is complete. The Maverick is in relatively good condition, She could use a major overhaul at a starbase, but that's not unusual lately."

"And the crew assessment?" Thorne asked, taking the PADD.

Ro hesitated. "As I mentioned, they're experienced, but there are… disciplinary issues. A few crewmembers have a history of insubordination."

Thorne sighed inwardly. It was worse than he expected. "Thank you, Lieutenant Commander. I want strict enforcement of regulations, we're Starfleet not a bunch of drunken Nausicaan pirates."

"Aye, Captain," Ro said, a flicker of something that might have been respect in her eyes.

Thorne reviewed the data on the PADD, mentally cataloging the names and offences.

"Haaj, Of course." He muttered to himself knowing that the Tellarite likely saw regulations and chain of command as mere suggestions.

He tapped his combadge to call Haaj, who had gone to engineering, "Thorne to Haaj."

A disgruntled voice crackled back, "Haaj here, Captain. Something burning up there that I need to put out?"

"Not yet, Chief. But I want you on the bridge. Now."

Haaj grumbled something unintelligible before the channel went dead. Thorne glanced at Ro, a silent question in his eyes. She simply offered a tight-lipped shrug.

A few minutes later, Haaj stomped onto the bridge, his brow furrowed and his beard practically bristling with indignation. "What do you need, Captain? I have a warp core that needs more attention that a nervous yarliq pup."

"Lieutenant Haaj," Thorne said calmly, gesturing to a vacant console. "I've reviewed your service record. I see a pattern of… creative interpretation of Starfleet regulations."

Haaj crossed his arms. "With all due respect, Captain, frell the regs. I get lursh done."

"I appreciate your efficiency, Lieutenant. But on my ship, we conduct ourselves according to regulations, understand?"

"And if I don't?" Haaj challenged, his voice low.

Thorne leaned forward, his gaze unwavering. "Then you'll find yourself confined to the brig until I have you transferred off the ship to man the most remote and desolate outpost possible. Consider this your one and only warning. Do I make myself clear, MISTER Haaj?"

Haaj glared at him for a long moment, the tension palpable. Finally, he let out a huff, "Crystal, Captain."

"Good. You're dismissed, Lieutenant" Thorne said summarily.

Haaj turned abruptly and stomped back towards the turbolift, muttering about "soft-skinned command types" under his breath. Ro watched him go, then turned to Thorne, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. He knew he had a long road ahead of him to whip this crew into shape.

"Bold move, Captain," she said.

"Necessary move, Commander," Thorne replied. "Its like dealing with a pack of wolves. I needed to establish dominance. If you give people like the lieutenant a nanometer they'll take a light-year."

Ro nodded. "I understand. It's just... the crew's been through a lot. They're used to a more... flexible interpretation of the rules."

"I can be flexible, but I will not tolerate insubordination," Thorne said firmly, his gaze still on the retreating form of Haaj. "We need to function as a unit if we're going to survive."

Ro nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Understood, Captain."

Thorne took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his new command. "I'm going to get a drink from the replicator. Anyone want one while I'm up?"

Ro raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth twitching upward. "I'd appreciate a raktajino, Captain. It's going to be a long night."

"Make that two, sir" Cruise chimed in.

Looking at the non-comms manning the other stations Thorne saw them shaking their heads before he stood up and sauntered to the replicator. The simple act of asking for drinks was a small step towards forming a bond with his crew, showing that despite his strictness, he wasn't completely detached from their needs. The replicator hummed to life, and two steaming raktajinos and one iced raktajino materialized. He took a moment to savor the rich aroma of the Klingon coffee beverage before walking to the Tactical I/Operations station where Ro sat and the helm where Cruise was to deliver the drinks before returning to the captain's chair with his own. The gesture was met with surprised nods from the crew, who had likely not seen such casualness from their previous commanding officers.

"Are any other ships defending the evacuation effort?" Ro asked, sipping her raktajino.

Thorne nodded. "One. The USS Bluefin, commanded by Captain Joseph Akinola. It's an Albacore class cutter."

Cruise raised an eyebrow as she turned from the helm. "Albacore class? I thought those were all decommissioned decades ago."

Thorne took a sip of his iced raktajino. "Not in the border service. They've kept a few operational for patrol and interdiction duties. They're not pretty, but they're sturdy and if they've got a half decent engineer they are as maneuverable as us and able to weather ion storms better than we can."

Ro raised an eyebrow. "So our back up is some old tin cans and a bunch of 'border dogs'? Good thing Haaj's not here to hear that."

Thorne shot her a sharp look. "Lieutenant Commander, that kind of talk is unbecoming of a Starfleet officer. The border service may not be the gleaming face of Starfleet, but they serve a critical purpose. Their members ARE Starfleet, simply in a different branch."

Thorne's tone softened. "I was almost one of those 'border dogs' myself. I had seriously considered transferring to the Bluefin under Captain Akinola. The only reason I didn't was because there were no open positions at the time."

He took another sip of his iced raktajino, watching the crew's expressions. They hadn't expected that revelation.

"Really?... Why?" Ro asked dumfounded.

"Captain Akinola is one of the best there is." Thorne explained, " He started out as a non-comm and earned a battle field commission then rose through the ranks in the border service to command the same ship he was chief of the boat on."

"But we're not here to talk about what-ifs," Thorne said firmly. "We're here to get this job done. And we will. Now, let's focus on the task at hand. Lieutenant Commander Ro, I want a detailed briefing on the convoy and the expected threat levels at each stage of the mission. Ensign Cruise, keep us informed of any changes in our trajectory. We need to be ready for anything."

Ro nodded, setting down her raktajino and immediately starting to work. "Aye, Captain."
Cruise, her cheeks flushing slightly at the Captain's reproof, replied, "Aye, sir. I'll keep us on course and monitor for any anomalies."

Thorne looked to Ro and said, "I'll be in the ready room if you need me, Commander."
Ro nodded. "Understood, Captain."

Thorne made his way to the starboard exit, his footsteps echoing in the tense silence of the bridge. The door hissed open, revealing the corridor beyond. Walking into the ready room moments later he noted that the space was small but functional, with a large tactical display dominating one wall, and a simple desk with a standard desktop monitor and adequate looking chair for him behind it. Sitting down heavily, his mind racing with the details of the mission ahead. The Federation was stretched thin and resources were scarce. The Maverick and the Bluefin, both ships with their own issues and quirks, would be all they had to protect those transports. He had to make sure they were ready.

"Computer, compile a report on everything we know about Volanis III and any reports of Dominion activity in the area.

"Requested function will take approximately five minutes to complete." the computer's calm voice responded., "Do you wish to proceed?"

"Proceed." Thorne said, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes briefly. He knew he'd need to be sharp for what was to come. The Federation was counting on them.

 

[Callum MacLeod]

Stardate: 51149.6 (February 24, 2374. 14:43 Federation Standard Starship Time)
USS Maverick NCC-74286 on Route for Volanis III
United Federation Of Planets

The hum of the USS Maverick vibrated through Verek Thorne’s bones as he stepped out of his ready room. The report on Volnais III burned in his mind. Dominion activity was escalating, too close to the colony for comfort. Standard Starfleet procedure called for evacuation, but the sheer number of civilians meant the transports would be sitting ducks. He needed to reinforce them, buy them time. He needed the Maverick to be more than just a gunboat, he needed it to be a shield. He straightened his uniform, the newly-affixed captain’s pips glinting under the harsh fluorescent light. This was it. Command. Not a posting he’d particularly sought, not with a war raging and the Federation teetering on the brink. But here he was, about to lead a cobbled-together crew into the heart of the storm. Walking down the corridor he headed for sickbay To introduce himself to the Chief Medical Officer. It was important to establish a connection, a sense of trust, even if he barely knew them.

The automatic doors hissed open, revealing the antiseptic starkness of sickbay. He spotted a woman with long raven colored hair hanging in loose curls bent over a biobed, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"Doctor…?" Thorne began, his voice even.

The woman looked up, her eyes sharp and intelligent. Her skin was the deep emerald green, common among Orions. Some would describe her as rubenesque. By no means was over weight but she would never be called slim either.

"Doctor Elara Vahn. And you must be Captain Thorne." She offered a tired smile, but her gaze was assessing, measuring. "Welcome aboard, Captain. Though I wish it were under better circumstances."

"Doctor Vahn," Thorne replied, returning the smile. "The circumstances are less than ideal, I agree. But I’m confident we can handle them." He paused. "I wanted to introduce myself and let you know I value your expertise. In a situation like Volnais III, you and your team will be invaluable."

Doctor Vahn’s brow furrowed deeper, "I just received preliminary casualty projections. They’re… grim, Captain."

"Grim, yes," Verek acknowledged. "Which is why we need to do everything we can to minimize them. I need your frank assessment of our med-bay’s capabilities. Can we handle a mass casualty situation? What resources do we need?"

Doctor Vahn didn't hesitate. "We're well-equipped for a Defiant class ship, Captain, but stretched thin. We could use a significant refit and expansion to bring us up to an acceptable level."

Thorne nodded, absorbing the information. "I'll see what I can do, Doc. But don't count on the refit happening anytime soon."

“Understood, Captain. I’ll make sure we’re as prepared as we can be with what we have. We’ll need every spare biobed available, and I’ll order a full diagnostic sweep of all medical equipment. My staff is small, but dedicated. They’ll give their all.” She paused, glancing back at the biobed. The patient, a young Bajoran ensign, lay there with a light gash visible on his forehead.

Thorne followed her gaze. “What happened to him?”

“He wasn’t watching where he was going and he tripped over a power conduit during a routine systems check. Minor head wound, some bruising. He’ll be fine. The worst of it is the blow to his pride.” Vahn’s tone was dry, but there was a hint of amusement in her eyes.

Thorne couldn’t help but chuckle, the tension in the room easing slightly. “Ah, the glamour of space travel. Do your best to patch him up, Doc. I’m only a comm-call away if you need anything.”

With that, he turned to leave, the doors hissing open as he stepped into the corridor. The cool efficiency of the ship’s air was a stark contrast to the warm, sterile atmosphere of sickbay. He took a deep breath, feeling the gravity of the mission ahead weighing on him. As he began to walk, the thud of his boots echoing through the empty space, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d be seeing a lot more of those doors in the coming days, bringing him news of the injured and the lost.

“Captain!” Vahn called out, her voice trough sickbay.

Thorne stopped and turned to face her, his expression expectant. “Yes, Doctor?”

Vahn took a step closer, a hint of color rising to her cheeks. “I just wanted to clarify, Captain, that I am well aware of the reputation of my people, and particularly my gender. We have a reputation for using pheromones to manipulate others that is not entirely unfounded. But I assure you, I would never even consider trying something like that. I’m on suppressors. You have nothing to worry about in that regard.”

Thorne looked at her, a slight smile playing on his lips, “Good to know, Doc. But I’d like to think that I can handle myself around a beautiful woman without falling apart at the seams.”

“I didn’t mean to imply…” Vahn trailed off.

“I know. I was just teasing.” Thorne said, his smile widening slightly. “But I appreciate your candor, Doctor.”

Doctor Vahn blushed deeper, “I just didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding.”

Thorne nodded. “There won’t be. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a ship to prepare for battle.”

The doctor nodded, her expression a mix of relief and respect. “Of course, Captain.”

Thorne’s smile remained as he stepped out of sickbay, the doors sliding shut behind him. He couldn’t help but be intrigued by the directness of Dr. Vahn. Most Orion females he’d met played into the stereotype of their species’ seductive allure. Her candidness was refreshing. He found it to be of little surprise that he found her fascinating.

 

[Callum MacLeod]

Stardate: 51149.6 (February 24, 2374. 14:43 Federation Standard Starship Time)
USS Mary Celeste NCC-13053 In interstellar space 2.5 light years from Volanis III
United Federation Of Planets

The hum of the USS Mary Celeste, a Starfleet Oberth-class science vessel, was a familiar lullaby to Captain Benjamin Briggs. He sat on the bridge, sipping replicated chamomile tea, the aroma a small comfort in the vast, uncaring expanse of space. Outside, the purple haze of the Volnais system painted a surreal backdrop against the star-dusted canvas.

“Report,” Briggs said, his voice calm and laced with the weariness of a long patrol.

The bridge was a hive of controlled activity. Lieutenant J’Rel, the Vulcan science officer, was perched before her console, her brow furrowed in a way that suggested a complex algorithm was being wrestled into submission. Ensign Davies, young and eager, was bouncing in his seat, his fingers flying across his own console.

“Captain,” J’Rel finally announced, her voice flat but laced with an undercurrent of…something. “The signatures emanating from the Volnais system remain anomalous. I have cross-referenced our database with every known spatial phenomenon. The results are…inconclusive.”

Briggs sipped his tea, wincing at its temperature. “Inconclusive, Lieutenant? That’s a rather polite way of saying you have no idea what’s going on.”

J’Rel inclined her head slightly. “That is a fair assessment, Captain. The signatures do not merely deviate from established patterns; they appear to not be consistent with the basic quantum signature of this reality.

“Not consistent with this reality? Explain.” His voice was calm, almost too calm, a sign to those who knew him that he was deeply concerned.

J’Rel continued, her eyes fixed on the swirling patterns on her console. “Based on our current understanding of quantum mechanics, every object, every particle in this universe possesses a unique quantum signature. These signatures are dictated by fundamental constants and laws. The signatures we are detecting from the Volnais system, however, suggest a different set of constants, a different set of laws… a different quantum reality, perhaps.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“If you believe that I am stating that the readings have an extra-dimensional origin then you are correct in your assumption.” J’Rel replied in a typically Vulcan fashion.

“Lieutenant J’Ral, I want you to take a shuttle to investigate. Ensign Davies will be your pilot.” Briggs said, “If the readings don’t appear to pose a risk upon closer investigation we’ll bring the ship in closer."

“Aye, sir.” J’Ral said neutrally. Looking to Davies she said, “You are with me, Ensign.”

Ensign Davies practically leaped out of his chair. “Yes, sir! Right away, sir!”

This was it. His first real away mission. He could already picture himself recounting the tale to his grandchildren, a Starfleet legend in the making. He paused, remembering protocol, and straightened his uniform before hurrying after J’Rel. Briggs watched them leave, a knot of apprehension tightening in his stomach. They all knew the risks; space was full of the unknown, and the could be majestic and benign or majestic and deadly.

 

[Callum MacLeod]

Stardate: 51151.5 (February 25, 2374. 07:52 Federation Standard Starship Time)
USS Maverick NCC-74286 on Route for Volanis III
United Federation Of Planets

The next morning Thorne walked onto the Maverick’s bridge a few steps behind Ro and headed for the center seat to relieve the ship’s Alvanian gamma shift officer of the watch, Lieutenant (JG) Mehg’n Tillis, Thorne watched as Tillis stood up and stepped to the side so she was standing beside the center seat.

“Was it a quiet shift, lieutenant?” Thorne asked as one of the security officers, Chief Petty Officer Thurston Howell, relived his gamma shift counterpart and took his position standing in the ‘at ease’ position by the turbolift.

“Very much so, sir.” Tillis replied, “The most exciting thing was when Sickbay reported that Petty Officer Rico slipped coming down a Jefferies tube ladder and sprained his ankle.”

“I see.” Thorne said, “The bridge is mine.”

“I stand relieved.” Tillis said relinquishing command of the bridge to Thorne.

As Thorne sat down in the captain’s chair Tillis, and the rest of the gamma shift bridge crew filed out of the bridge through the port and starboard exits to go off duty. Looking at the chronometer display on the port side captain’s console Thorne saw that it was just before zero-eight-hundred hours; the beginning of alpha shift.

“Computer, begin day watch.” Thorne said to the computer causing it to begin the day watch which caused the lighting throughout the ship to rise to the standard level from the reduced lighting levels of gamma shift, “All stations, status report.”

“All primary and secondary systems operating at peak efficiency.” Ro said from her station, “Pulse phasers, Quantum torpedoes and shields are available when necessary. Scientific and combat tracking systems are online and at the ready.”

“Warp and all sub-light propulsion systems are at the ready.” Cruise said turning away from the helm console the viewscreen.

Thorne tapped his combadge, “Thorne to Sickbay.”

Vahn’s voice responded crisply, “Sickbay. Vahn here. What can I do for you, Captain?”

Thorne leaned back in his chair, “Just checking in, Doctor. How’s the crew?”

Vahn’s voice was filled with a hint of playfulness. “Aside from a wide-spread and chronic lack of appreciation for the comedic genius of the Three Stooges, they’re in good health.”

“What’s your prescription, Doc?” Thorne quipped, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Vahn’s chuckle washed over the comm. “Well, a mandatory Stooge movie marathon would help. But in all seriousness, Captain, we’re prepared for the mission ahead.”

Thorne nodded to himself, the sound of her laughter lingering in his mind as he turned to face the viewscreen. “Very well, Doctor. Keep me updated on any concerns, aside from the crew’s lack of appreciation for comedic genius.”

The comm chirped off, and he turned his attention to the mission at hand. The evacuation of Volanis III was not going to be easy. The planet had been a strategic asset, a bastion of agricultural innovation. Losing it would be a significant blow to the Federation, both in resources and morale. But not evacuating it and letting the inhabitants be subjugated or slaughtered by the Jem’Hadar would deal an even more significant blow to morale. It was a lose-lose scenario, and Thorne knew that the only way to win was to save as many lives as possible.

Ro’s voice cut through the ambient hum of the bridge. “Captain, the USS Bluefin has entered sensor range. They’re on course to Volanis III.”

Thorne nodded, his eyes on the tactical display. “Are we in real-time communication range yet?”

Ro checked her console, her eyes scanning the data. “Negative, Captain. Estimated time to real-time communication range is twelve minutes forty-three seconds. Assuming that both ships maintain current course and speed.”

“Signal the Bluefin and send Captain Akinola my regards, Commander.” Thorne instructed Ro, his tone a mix of formality and camaraderie.

“Aye, Captain.” Ro responded, her fingers dancing over her console.

Moments later, Ro’s eyes flicked up from her screen to meet Thorne’s. “The Bluefin has acknowledged your message, Captain. Captain Akinola sends his regards as well.”

“Acknowledged.” Thorne said, “You have the bridge, Commander. I’ll be in my ready room, keep me informed of any changes.”

Ro nodded, “Aye, Captain.”

Thorne exited the bridge through the port exit, his boots resonating against the deck plating as he made his way to the ready room. The ready room was a small sanctuary, but it was the quiet he sought, not the space. He sat behind his desk, reviewing the colony’s layout, the positions of the transports, and the expected paths of Dominion patrols filled the room. He studied the intel, his mind racing through possible scenarios. The clock ticked down the seconds, each one feeling like a pebble dropping into the abyss of the unknown. The Maverick, a Defiant-class warship bearing the scars of countless battles, was to hold the line alongside the USS Bluefin, buying precious hours for the colonists to escape.

The door's annunciator chimed, prompting Thorne to call out, "Enter."

Doctor Vahn, her skin a vibrant emerald green, glided into the room. The Orion’s inherent allure was amplified by the crisp Starfleet uniform, the gold piping highlighting her lithe frame.

“Captain,” she greeted, her voice a melodic hum.

“Doc.” Thorne replied, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “What brings you to my humble abode?”

“Humble is hardly the word I would use, Captain.” She countered, her eyes twinkling. “Efficient, perhaps? Austere, definitely?”

Thorne chuckled softly, “It’s a work in progress.”

He gestured to a chair, “Please, have a seat. What’s on your mind?”

Vahn settled into the chair, her posture graceful. “I’ve been monitoring the crew. Morale is…fragile. The Dominion has a way of doing that to people.”

Thorne steepled his fingers, the gesture more human than Vulcan. “Fragile, but not broken, I hope?”

“Not yet. But to be honest there’s one person onboard that I’m REALLY worried about.”
“Who?” Thorne queried.

“You.” Vahn said softly, her hand reaching across the desk to cover his, her touch sending a pleasant shiver through him, “You don’t always have to be Captain Thorne, the stoic leader. Sometimes, you can just be Verek. For someone who’s half-Vulcan, you certainly carry a lot of… intensity.”

Thorne chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. “My Vulcan grandparents did their best to suppress it, along with everything else human in me. They saw it as… illogical. They didn’t even try to hide their disapproval. When my parent’s marriage ended my mother and I moved back to Earth and I took her last name.”

Vahn tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “I’m SO sorry to hear that. How how do you feel about your Vulcan heritage in general?”

Thorne hesitated, a familiar bitterness rising in his throat. “It’s… complicated. Suffice to say, I consider myself Human not Vulcan.”

He met her gaze, his own softening. The air in the room seemed to thicken, charged with an undeniable attraction. The logistical reports, the looming threat of the Dominion, all faded into the background, replaced by the warmth in her eyes, the alluring curve of her lips. He leaned forward, drawn in by an invisible force. Their faces were inches apart now, his breath mingling with hers. He saw a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, quickly replaced by an answering desire.

Just as their lips were about to meet, the moment shattered.

Chirp!

Thorne flinched, the intimacy instantly broken. His combadge, a shrill intrusion, blared to life. Tapping it he opened the comm-link.

“Thorne. Go ahead”

“Ro, Captain.” The Bajoran first officer’s disembodied voice said, “We’re in real-time visual communication range. Captain Akinola is waiting to speak with you.”

With a sigh of frustration, as Vahn mouthed ‘We’ll talk later’, Thorne replied, “Put him through, Commander.”

 

[Callum MacLeod]

Stardate: 51151.9 (February 25, 2374. 10:52 Federation Standard Starship Time)
USS Maverick NCC-74286 on Route for Volanis III
United Federation Of Planets

“Commander, we’ve got an unidentified energy signature coming out of a ion storm, bearing 2-1-4 mark 7.” Cruise voice was steady despite the tension in her posture.

Ro’s face scrunched up as she squinted at the viewscreen, “What does it look like?”

“It’s too intermittent to get a clear lock, but it’s definitely not natural.” Cruise replied, her voice betraying the excitement of a new discovery.

Ro’s tapped the combadge on her chest, “Captain Thorne, to the bridge. We have an unidentified contact on sensors.”

Thorne’s response was swift and clear, “On my way.”

The captain’s footsteps were quick and deliberate as he emerged onto the bridge. The room snapped to attention, the drills forgotten as all eyes turned to him. The tension in the air thickened like the plasma outside their ship.

“Report!” he ordered as Ro vacated the center seat returning to her station and wordlessly relinquishing command of the bridge.
“We’ve got an unidentified energy signature coming out of an ion storm at 2-1-4 mark 7.” Ro reported, “We’re within visual range, but interference from the storm will make it difficult to get a clear image.”

“On screen.”

The captain’s order was met with swift action, and the viewscreen flickered to life, showing a hazy image of a Starfleet vessel half-obscured by the tumultuous plasma storm. The ship’s identification number was fuzzy, but the silhouette was unmistakable—an Oberth class science vessel.

“Who is she?”

“Picking up her transponder signal now.” Ro’s voice was tight with anticipation. “It’s the Mary Celeste.”

“That’s Benjamin Briggs’ ship.” Thorne said Ro.

“Open a channel.” Thorne ordered.

“Channel open, Captain.”

“This is the Maverick to the Mary Celeste, please respond.” Thorne’s voice was firm and clear, cutting through the static interference like a knife.

After a moment of silence Thorne looked at the engineering station and the Chief Petty Officer, a Bolian named Sato, manning it saying, “Is she receiving us Chief?”

Sato nodded, “They’re definitely receiving, their comm array is intact and operational.”

“Life signs, Commander Ro?” Thorne queried.

“Inconclusive. There’s too mulch interference from storm.” Ro replied.
Thorne’s mind raced. The Mary Celeste had been found adrift. The silence on the other end of the channel was unnerving. He knew that in the Badlands, silence could be as dangerous as the storms themselves.

“Maverick to Mary Celeste, this is Captain Varek Thorne. Are you in need of assistance?” He tried again.

The channel crackled with static, and for a moment, the bridge was eerily silent before the hiss of the plasma storm filled the void. The engineering console beeped again, and Chief Petty Officer Sato shook his head. “No response, Captain.”

Thorne’s gaze hardened. “Alter course, Ensign. Commander Ro, Let the Bluefin know that we’re investigating a possible S.I.D.”

“Aye, sir.” Cruise replied before being echoed by Ro.

Moments later the Maverick dropped out of warp and maneuvered as close to the ion as Cruise dared. Thorne’s eyes remained on the viewscreen, watching as the stormy veil parted to reveal the Mary Celeste in full view. The Oberth-class ship was indeed a sight to behold—beautiful in its antiquity, but something was off. The lights flickered in an erratic pattern, and there was an unnatural stillness to the way it drifted through the plasma.

With a heavy sigh, Thorne turned to his first officer, “Assemble an away team, Commander. I want to know what’s going on over there. Take a shuttle. I don’t wanna risk the transporter in this chop.”

Ro nodded, “Aye, Captain.”

“Ensign Cruise, keep us in a tight formation with the Mary Celeste, and stay ready to lock on a tractor beam and move at a moment’s notice,” Thorne continued, his eyes never leaving the viewscreen.

“Aye, sir,” responded the young human, her hands steady on the controls.

The Mary Celeste loomed larger on the viewscreen, a stark testament to the ravages of time and the brutal environment of the Badlands. Her once gleaming hull was now a patchwork of burn marks and impact damage. The ship looked like it had seen more than its fair share of battles, but the lack of life signs was the most unsettling aspect. As the Maverick drew closer to the derelict ship, the storm’s interference grew stronger, sending shudders through the vessel’s hull. The engineering console beeped incessantly as Chief Sato worked to filter the interference.

=/\=​

Stardate: 51152.0 (February 25, 2374. 11:32 Federation Standard Starship Time)
Shuttlecraft Aurora approaching the USS Mary Celeste.
United Federation Of Planets

As the shuttlecrsft Aurora approached the Mary Celeste, Ro hailed the seemingly abandoned ship one last time. “Mary Celeste, this is Shuttlecraft Aurora requesting permission to dock. We are here to assist.”

Silence.

Ro sighed, “Preparing to dock at the port airlock.”

With a jolt, the Aurora locked onto the Mary Celeste. Ro checked the readings to on the pilots console, “We’ve got a positive seal and sensors are reading breathable air beyond the airlock.”

“Alright, team, let’s go.” Ro continued standing up and heading for the shuttle’s airlock.
The other members of the away team followed suit: Crewman Jaxx, a hulking Bolian security officer armed with a rifle, and Doctor Vahn. The airlock hissed open, revealing a dimly lit corridor on the Mary Celeste.

“Stay sharp,” Ro instructed, her voice low. “We don’t know what we’re walking into.”

They moved cautiously down the corridor, their phasers raised. The walls were lined with flickering emergency lights, casting long, distorted shadows that seemed to writhe and shift with every movement. The only sound was the rhythmic thump of their boots on the metal grating. As they moved through the ship, they noticed that personal items were scattered, but not in a way that suggested a battle or an emergency. It was more like the crew had simply stepped out and never returned. The mess hall had half-eaten meals on the table, the captain’s ready room had a book open on the desk, and the bridge was a ghost town of consoles and chairs.

“It’s as if they left in the middle of their shift,” Vahn mused, a frown creasing her emerald forehead.

The trio moved towards the shuttle bay, where they found one of the bays empty. The only thing they found amiss was that one of the shuttlecraft was missing.

“The shuttle couldn’t hold the whole crew,” Ro said, his brow furrowed as he studied the bay doors. “Where could they have gone?”

Tapping her combadge, the cold metal against his fur a stark contrast to the warmth of his skin, Ro said, “Ro to Maverick, come in.”

Thorne’s voice crackled through the channel, “Maverick here. What’s your status?”

“We’ve found something odd,” Ro said as they surveyed the abandoned bay. “The crew is missing. So far there’s no signs of trouble and one of their shuttlecraft is missing.”

“Keep looking,” Thorne replied, his tone tight with concern. “There’s something not right here. They couldn’t’ve fit all of the crew into a single shuttle.”

“Agreed. Ro out.” She replied before closing the channel with another tap of his combadge. Looking at the rest of the away team she said, “You heard the Captain.”

The away team continued their search, moving methodically through the ship’s corridors. They checked every room, but found no trace of the missing crew. The silence grew heavier with each passing moment, the only sound their own footsteps echoing through the emptiness.

“This isn’t right,” Jaxx murmured, “Everything’s too… orderly. It’s as if they just vanished.”

“I agree, it’s eerie,” Ro said, his voice a low growl. “But we need to find out what happened here. Is it possible they were beamed away?”

“If they were it was long enough ago that the trace dissipated.” Jaxx replied checking his tricorder.

“Keep looking," Ro ordered, his eyes scanning the corridor as they continued walking.

They continued their search, reaching the engineering section. The massive engines hummed with a low, resonant thrum, seemingly oblivious to the absence of their operators. The consoles blinked and whirred, displaying a steady stream of data that meant nothing without someone to interpret it.

“Engineering logs might tell us something,” Ro suggested, heading towards the main console. She began accessing the ship’s computer, her fingers flying across the interface.

“Let’s see… last entry was… yesterday just before fifteen hundred. Standard maintenance check. Nothing unusual reported.”

Ro frowned at the log entries. A routine maintenance check just hours before the ship was found adrift? It defied logic. Something had to have happened in between.

“Try to find any unusual sensor readings or anomalies logged around the time the crew supposedly vanished,” Ro instructed.

While Ro worked on the main console, Vahn moved toward the warp core observation platform, peering into the swirling energies. Jax stood guard near the entrance, his rifle held at the ready. Shifting position a glint on the deck caught his eye. He lowered his rifle slightly, his blue eyes narrowing as he investigated.

“I’ve got something, Commander!” He pointed his rifle down at the deck.

Ro and Vahn hurried over to Jaxx. He was pointing at the pin with his phaser rifle, a stylized image of a sword thrust through the planet Earth. It was small, seemingly insignificant, but it triggered a vague sense of familiarity in Ro’s mind.

Ro knelt, carefully examining the pin. “I’ve seen this before. I can’t place it, but it’s definitely familiar.”

Picking up the pin and standing she said, “Let’s keep looking, this ship isn’t going to search itself.”

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

It looks like an update is missing between the last update and the section immediately preceding it. Vahn is getting kissy-faced with the captain (kissus-interruptus) then suddenly she's on a shuttle with Ro investigating a mystery ship that has yet to be introduced in the story.

Thanks!! rbs

 

[Callum MacLeod]

It looks like an update is missing between the last update and the section immediately preceding it. Vahn is getting kissy-faced with the captain (kissus-interruptus) then suddenly she's on a shuttle with Ro investigating a mystery ship that has yet to be introduced in the story.

Thanks!! rbs

Good catch RBS. I've inserted it. Should make more sense now.