Tempest
Hammerhead Class Frigate (NC-114)
Tucker leaned forward over the display table, one hand holding himself up. The other reaching up to rub fretfully at the back of his neck.
"Okay…Alice, copy what you've got to a portable file." He said, tiredly. "Transfer and secure to my PADD."
"I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Dave."
"Voiceprint authorization 'daisy, daisy, two-zero-zero-one'."
"Working…done, Trip."
"Alice, offline." He said, already working the controls at hand, calling up the current mission report. "Commander Song, we're probably five minutes from Celestial station, so you get on up to the bridge. Eckerd's got to be pulling his hair out by now. I'll make an announcement, then I'll take T'Pol's team in and report to Hauser."
Song nodded. "Yes, sir."
"The Vulcans are going to take priority, so we'll have to wait until they clear Celestial security before our people can take leave." He said, turning to look at her. "Let them figure out what to do with the crew the Kolinahr left behind. Just get them through security quickly so they can be transferred to medical. I want our people off the ship and repairs underway as soon as you can manage it. Then you come meet us on the station."
Trip gazed out over the table, calling up a few other displays while he talked. Trying to get some kind of overview, a look at the big picture here. There was still a lot to do…and…
Damn. Was that…?
"Well, son of a bitch." He said, quietly. Seeing one report in particular, on the system tactical map.
"Sir?" Song asked, already nearly to the door, ready to hike for the bridge.
"The Enterprise." Trip said, gesturing at that particular tactical report. "Looks like they're heading in, almost in-system already."
Song came back to the table.
Because…that might be a problem.
"Sir, they've got us tagged for a supply run." She said, pointing out the duty schedule appended there. "Enterprise isn't even stopping at the station."
Trip was already nodding, thinking ahead. "And that's good. That means they're going to limit our time in dock, so we can get out there to meet them."
"I would have thought they'd have one of the Neptunes make that run…"
"No, I guess that makes sense. I bet Hauser doesn't want me around when Coleman takes over. Whatever the case may be, I'm not going to argue with it if it gets Tempest out of dock. They can just toss all the modules and gear through the door, for all I care."
"Sir, if we get this report to Hauser quick enough…or Coleman, as the case may be…do you think we can convince them to hold onto the Enterprise before she…?"
"Doubt it." Trip said, tightly. "Or…maybe. Look, I don't know. Doesn't matter. Let's deal with what we've got in front of us already. Get on up to the bridge and I'll report in with the brass when we dock."
Song dithered a bit more, though…
"Captain, are you going to be okay with the Enterprise…?"
"It's fine, Song." Trip said, frowning. "Let's focus on getting Tempest back out on the line."
"Yes, sir."
Song didn't wait for anything else to pop up and demand her attention. She turned and left the room, heading for the bridge just a few meters away.
Which left Tucker alone with T'Pol, who'd remained quiet all the while. And even though Song had forgotten she was standing there, just as quickly as he had, it bothered him that she'd so easily faded into the background like that. Because it was pretty obvious that she'd meant to.
"So what am I supposed to do with you?" Trip asked, turning his head her way.
"Do with me?" T'Pol replied. "You need do nothing with me, Captain, beyond reporting to Colonel Hauser."
Trip nodded. "Okay. I'd guess you'd better. You practically broke the code all by yourself…"
Which got him thinking.
"That was pretty smart." He said, cocking his head slightly. "I've worked with some very intelligent people in my time but I haven't had too many leave me in the dust like that. What are you doing in intelligence?"
T'Pol lowered her eyes for only a moment, considering what he'd said…
"You do realize the irony of what you just asked me, Captain?" She suggested, meeting his eyes again.
Trip chuckled. "Yeah, okay. But you know what I mean."
"I suppose I do." She admitted. "And I hope you will understand that by Vulcan standards that poses a far more personal inquiry than would be considered appropriate."
Trip was immediately abashed. Jeez, it was easy to forget with some of these Vulcans how easy it was to step on their toes…
"Right. I'm sorry, I didn't think…" He said, quickly.
"It is quite alright." She said. "I understand that by Humans standards it must seem a reasonable inquiry. Perhaps even acceptable and expected."
After a moment's pause, with nothing further forthcoming, Trip began to wonder whether or not she was going to answer. It had seemed like it at first, but…
"So…?" He asked, uncertainly.
"A position in the Ministry of Information was offered to me following mandatory military service." She said. "Lacking definition and clarity regarding the path before me at that time, I accepted. It was logical to do so. I have served with the Ministry since then, as my work continues to profit the Vulcan people."
Trip nodded politely. Feeling a little awkward, for some reason he couldn't quite fathom. He was usually pretty comfortable chit-chatting with people. But then they weren't usually so dry and matter-of-fact about it.
Of course, could just be the fact that he was, for some ungodly reason, chit-chatting with a Vulcan. Because, yeah, he could see how that might…
"And you, Captain?" T'Pol asked, suddenly.
"Oh." Trip blinked. "Right. Well.."
Well, that was…where to start?
"Kind of a long story, actually." He said.
"I see." T'Pol said, flatly. And looked away, uncomfortable. "I apologize. I assumed I would be expected to reciprocate."
"No! No…" He said, rushing to explain. "It really is a pretty long…complicated…strange…story."
"I understand." She said, nodding slightly. "I only asked as I felt it was required. We do have important matters to attend to."
"Right." Trip nodded, quickly. "But I'm just…kinda surprised you never heard of me, I guess."
T'Pol stared back for a moment. "Should I have?"
"No, no." Trip said. "Kind of glad you haven't, really. Forget I said anything."
T'Pol stared again. At the very odd, very stereotypically Human request.
"I will try." She said, passively.
Well, Trip thought. And, well again. This was nicely uncomfortable, wasn't it?
And, damn it, he was the captain around here. He didn't have to put up with uncomfortableness.
"Right. So go ahead and get down to the brig." He said, with what authority he could muster. "Get your people together and meet me at the airlock. I've got a few calls to make, then I'll be there."
T'Pol nodded. "Very well, Captain."
And she made her exit quickly and gracefully. Before he could realize he'd let her loose on the ship unsupervised, and had the chance to assign her an escort of some sort.
But behind her, as the door to the conference room slid shut, Trip was already setting the ship's security monitors to follow her. Feeding the live stream to one display at the side, while he set up another for outbound comm.
Because he'd run afoul of intelligence types before. Mostly the Human variety but he doubted they differed much from species to species. They typically came in two flavors. Those that enjoyed poking their noses into corners, digging up secrets and basically making life difficult for those responsible for keeping secrets…like the secrets scattered all around the ship, for example. The ones he was responsible for keeping.
The other kind being those operatives that honestly just wanted to do their job. Uncover threats to whatever nation or organization they worked for. The ones that genuinely wanted to protect whatever people they represented. Those kind of agents he could usually get along with.
The way he figured it, if she was one of the troublesome kind she'd make a bee-line for the engine room. Or the computer core. Maybe just pick a lock or two and peek into whatever secure area she passed first. But if she was one of the other kind, like he sort of hoped she was, she'd head right to the brig. Because reporting to Hauser was the important thing here and the Romulans were the threat that needed to be dealt with. Not holograms and Project Mayhem.
So depending on what she did with the seemingly unsupervised, unsecured tour of the ship he'd just tossed in her lap, he'd know how hard he'd have to come down on her. Even if he did mean to bar her from the ship the moment he managed to get her off of it…
…still, it was a little surprising that the only place she did stop and poke her nose around was the ship's dedication plaque, off the bridge down the hall. She made straight for it, stood there examining it for over a minute and even researched a few things on her Vulcan PADD for a minute more. Then headed straight for the brig to get her team.
Damned if he could make heads or tails of that.
T'Pol examined the plaque in detail, expecting it might shed some light on who exactly Trip Tucker was, and why she was unaware of him when it would seem she should have been. And moreover concerning this ship, as it clearly represented a large gap in Vulcan intelligence regarding Starfleet. An organization they were supposed to be a part of, to one degree or another, having signed onto the Coalition that ostensibly governed it.
She did not appreciate being uninformed. That demanded immediate rectification.
Tempest
Hammerhead Class - Starfleet Registry NC-114
Launched May 4, 2156 - San Francisco Fleet Yards
Charles Tucker III, Commander
"Frustra gladium non ferant"
Several facts leapt out at her already, such as the fact that the ship had apparently been launched little more than five months ago. And that the ship had been constructed quite openly, in Earth orbit, yet still somehow remained obscure. It had appeared in no intelligence reports that she had been privy to, at least.
But above and beyond them all being the fact that no one had yet used the Captain's proper first name in her presence. It would seem it was not 'Trip' at all. It was Charles.
Charles Tucker.
The Chief Engineer of Starfleet's flagship, Enterprise, at its launch. The first Human to interact directly with the Xyrillians and, in fact, the one who'd inadvertently, by all accounts at least, been impregnated as a result. Bringing that child to term a full four months before the Xyrillians could finally arrive on Earth to reclaim it.
An event which had sent any number or shockwaves, relatively speaking, through the ranks of High Command, following the diplomatic accords between Earth and Xyrillia that had followed. Against all projections.
Ironically enough, she had nearly been assigned to that very ship at its launch. Saved from that particular covert mission by the death of her betrothed and the demands of decorum in that regard. Indeed, she otherwise would likely have been on hand to witness that disturbing event.
Nevertheless, this did indeed illuminate a number of things she'd witnessed aboard this ship. The highly advanced holography, for one thing. The presence of ship shielding being used in conjunction with hull polarization, for another. And, in point of fact, the odd configuration of the impulse engine thrusters and the ship's entire profile overall, as she'd taken note of on approach. Both being notable departures from standard Starfleet designs.
The ship was indeed a prototype of some sort, as the Captain had suggested. Possessing who knows what manner of hybrid Human/Xyrillian technology. The dedication plaque clearly confirmed as much. Tucker's name was listed there in no less than four additional places, beyond his listing as commanding officer. Among the space frame engineers, the propulsion system engineers, the research and development team…even the yard engineers. And mixed in among them all there were as many non-Human names as Human. A quick round of research on her PADD confirming those names most likely being Xyrillian…
It was fascinating indeed.
The Ministry of Information had followed Human news reports, as well as reports from a variety of much more exotic sources, concerning the fallout from Charles Tucker's pregnancy. Most of them dealing with pressure from various political powers to have him abort the child, or allow it to otherwise be removed, fearing the high likelihood that bringing it to term would result in his death. And again when those same influences attempted to circumvent his will in that regard, when he conversely objected to the high likelihood of the child's death as a result…
Then still further when the Xyrillians arrived, and their response to all of that when it had come to light…
Projections had, at first, suggested it would present an insurmountable obstacle to the Human's attempts to engage with the Xyrillians. They had shown little interest in developing ties with Vulcan, after all. Yet the Humans had succeeded where they had failed, and to a startling degree. The Xyrillians had very nearly joined the Coalition in the end, alongside Andoria and Tellar. And Vulcan herself, of course. Even at last report continuing to entertain talks concerning that.
Still, there remained the mystery…why was she not already aware that Charles Tucker had regained his commission with Starfleet? And even been assigned a command, aboard a Human/Xyrillian prototype vessel no less? One he'd played a large role in designing and constructing, apparently.
These matters clearly required further investigation.
When Commander T'Pol reached the lift and entered it, Tucker gave up trying to figure out what the Vulcan had been up to with all that. Or what she might have gathered from the plaque, other than his being involved with the ship's design. Maybe she'd been impressed or something. Not likely, considering she was Vulcan…but, you never know...
Dismissing all that and closing out the monitor there, he reached for his belt, ready to do the next thing on his list of a thousand things that needed to be done. Addressing the crew and getting them up to speed.
And stopped himself just in time, realizing…he wasn't really sure what to say to them. Or how to say it. Or…hell, what a captain was even supposed to say right now.
So, as much as he hated it, he sorta had to consider what Archer would say at a time like this…
He tapped the comm. And so maybe he'd just have to wing it anyway…
"This is the Captain." He said. "I realize a lot's been going on recently and most of you haven't been properly informed of the situation. Here's where we stand. Just before we arrived at the Kohlinahr, Starfleet issued a code one to all ships. Reports suggest a large scale Romulan incursion through sectors oh-oh-eight and oh-oh-six. Alpha Centauri looks to be the front line for oh-oh-eight. And that's us."
In the top nacelle of the Tempest, Shran diverted a portion of her attention to the announcement, sure she already knew everything relevant to her department. Until Tucker referenced the scale of the incursion, which she hadn't known.
She stopped wrestling with the thermal sheath then. Two whole sectors of space was a nearly unimaginable frontline for any war. That the Romulans might actually be able to field such numbers…perhaps the Orions could do as much, but it would require organization far beyond their capabilities. And so it would seem the Romulans were far more organized a pirate species than the Orions were slavers. Which established them as significant threat instantly, and far beyond what had been suspected of them up until now.
"When we dock in a few minutes, our security and theirs will be busy transporting the wounded Vulcan personnel to medical. And we'll be locked down for a while. As soon as we have our orders, they'll be relayed to you through your department heads."
Claiborne scrambled up the ladder nearby, up onto the walkway. Looking anxious and obviously seeking some kind of support.
From her.
"We've got a lot ahead of us, I know. Make do with what you've got and I won't ask any more from you than excellence. But above all, stand firm and stand ready. None of you were chosen with a combat role in mind here, I know. This is a prototype vessel, still technically on her shakedown cruise."
Jack came alongside her to listen, thankfully not attempting to engage her attention in any way just yet. It was difficult enough having him, or anyone else for that matter, in her presence these days.
"But I'll let you in on something you'll find out soon enough. As of now only two Starfleet vessels have yet to engage the enemy. The Patton was the first, lost approximately twenty-six hours ago in the Beta Rigel system. The second vessel to engage them was the Tempest. And we kicked their asses."
Talla suddenly breathed deeply, entirely despite herself. Literally swelling with pride for the Tempest. Of course her ship had stomped the thezha out of those sneaky Romulan brigands…!
"You're trained, you're smart and you're ready. You're Starfleet. And the Tempest has a few tricks they're never gonna see coming. So we will win this, and we'll get through it. Stand firm, stand ready, and we'll see the other side of this soon enough. That is all."
Talla nodded, as if the Captain were there for him to see her complete agreement. And she was grinning wickedly, which she wasn't entirely aware of until she turned. And Claiborne saw it.
So she stopped that. And dropped all expression from her face but distain for his presence. Forcing her antennae back to make clear her disapproval.
"Claiborne, is there a reason you're here?" She said, coldly. "Instead of somewhere else, being productive?"
"Oh. I was just…" Claiborne stuttered. "Those deuterium lines Alpha team ran through section 2B. I was just prepping them for the station teams, so they could pull…"
"Prepping the deuterium lines." Talla said. "That sounds like an excellent idea. Don't let me keep you."
"Right. I just thought…"
"Get back to work, Ensign." She glared, her eyes narrowing.
"Yes, ma'am."
And he was gone. Down the ladder and back to work. So that she could breath again.
Taking a second look at the thermal sheath and the tangled mass of lines and power conduits that had been jammed under it…she decided it suddenly didn't seem like something she really wanted to deal with. Let the engineering crews on Celestial Station untangle that mess.
She had subordinates in sickbay. Or…probably sitting in the hall outside sickbay, as nearly all of Deck B had consigned to triage. But there were two crewman and an ensign, one of which being the sole survivor of the disaster that'd cost them one of their shuttles. And the ensign in question had lost his entire team of engineering crewman with that…
Talla threw the thermal sheath down, suddenly furious. And frustrated.
And more than a little hopeless.
With a tired sigh, she sought a way around that. But soon enough accepted it was something that wasn't going to let her go without acting upon it…
So she left the walkway, scaled down the ladder and headed for Deck B. Stomping a bit and glaring at everyone who, thankfully, came within range of it. Trying to make herself feel a little better.
And when she reached the lift and stepped in, finding her there, it was a cold blessing.
"Are you lost, Vulcan?" Talla snapped, jabbing the Deck B button with barely a glance.
"Is the brig located at the end of corridor C, Deck B?" T'Pol asked.
"What?" Talla said, as if the question were a particularly stupid one. "Of course it is. You can read a map can't you? It's right there."
Talla pointed at the map on the wall of the lift. It was right there.
"Then I am not lost." T'Pol said, dismissively.
Talla's fury leapt.
"Then that's good." She snarled. "The brig is the perfect place…!"
"Security alert. Deck B, forward. Security officers, man your stations."
Talla blinked. And T'Pol looked up, where the security alert had come from. One eyebrow raised speculatively.
When the lift door opened, Talla turned her attention in that direction, away from the infuriating Vulcan. Because there was a ruckus going on out there…
One Vulcan practically leapt into the lift, a PADD in one hand and a cast on his other arm. Out in the corridor, most of the various wounded Vulcans lining it were just coming to their feet. Trying to get out of the way of the security officer staggering down the hall toward them…
…he'd been shot. A black charred spot on his left shoulder still smoking slightly, his face contorted in pain.
"Talla! Stop him!" He yelled at her, already stumbling into the wall nearby.
She looked. And saw the Vulcan standing next to her raise the PADD he held…
In an instant of perfect clarity she noted he had one thumb depressing a panel there. Holding it down already when he'd raised the PADD. Still holding it down once it was raised. And something inside her spoke up, drawing her attention with sharp, near painful focus to that. To that very important point.
So as T'Pol, on the far side, reached to subdue the man…she reached for the PADD. To stop that thumb from rising.
