Transporting twenty-nine thousand people off the surface of a planet was a daunting task. Trying to accomplish it in less than a day was nearly impossible, as Josh well knew. The odds of a serious confrontation with the Klingons grew greater by the hour. Complicating matters was the fact that not all twelve Starfleet ships could be engaged in the business of transporting the colonists. At any given time, a few ships had to stay at combat alert, with shields and weapons at the ready, to guard against the possibility of a surprise Klingon attack. A starship in low orbit, with its shields down and its resources dedicated to the transporter systems, would be a sitting duck against even a weakly armed opponent, and with hundreds or thousands of civilians on board, the result would be catastrophic. Therefore, Constitution, Halifax and Louis Riel (a New Orleans-class frigate) – the three strongest ships in the task force - were given the job of guarding the rest of the fleet while the other nine ships evacuated the planet. This also meant, though, that the three ships with the greatest transporter capabilities couldn't lend their resources to get the job done quicker, which only added to the logistical nightmare.
Nonetheless, progress was good and the evacuation went well at first. The Pemra-3 colonists were eager to get off the planet before they were swept away by the Klingon task force, and they were well organized and prepared when Starfleet finally showed up. They had packed the essential items they wanted or needed to take with them, and the colony's governors had drawn up an organized, well thought out evacuation plan. All of this gave Josh hope that they could pull this thing off without a major space battle against a Klingon battle fleet. But, being a believer in Murphy's Law, he also knew things were going too well, and sooner or later something would arise to royally screw things up.
That something, though of course he couldn't have known it at the time,
His expression quickly changed to a look of dumbfounded shock, however, as he caught a glimpse of who it was that was calling him from the surface.
A Vulcan woman, in her early middle age, with traditional jet-black hair and pale milky complexion, appeared on the screen. As with most members of her species, her demeanor was cool and aloof.
"Hello, Joshua," she began.
His normally placid composure instantly shot, Josh swallowed hard and answered, "T'Katha. I…I didn't know you were on Pemra."
T'Katha gave Josh a severe look accented by an arched eyebrow that Vulcans everywhere had perfected. "I have been working in the ruins of Pemra-3 for over fifteen months. I find it surprising that you were unaware of my most recent assignment."
"I've been…pretty busy for the last year or so," Josh replied. It sounded lame and he knew it. His next thought was that this couldn't look good in front of his bridge crew. Glancing about the room, his suspicions were justified. Although Zhukov's granite expression betrayed no hints of his thoughts, Josh could clearly see a puzzled look on Navat's youthful face, and a definite hint of amusement in the eyes of the empathic Dr. Kramer. Unluckily for Josh, the doctor happened to be on the bridge at this moment, coordinating the evacuation of the colony's medical patients to various ships best equipped to handle their cases.
Like all people, Captain Joshua Travis had his weak points and silly fears. Josh's particular hang-up was looking foolish in front of his crew. A perfectionist, he tended to think of the captain's position in slightly god-like terms and therefore any blemish, no matter how insignificant, was unacceptable. He knew it was an unrealistic and even absurd way to think, but it was part of who he was and he believed he was too old to change his ways.
Therefore, retreat at this moment was the only acceptable alternative. "Lieutenant Navat, patch this transmission through to my Ready Room – now," he ordered, before ducking into the privacy of his sanctuary.
Dr. Kramer, who had been observing the captain through the entire episode, murmured to herself, "Well, well, well. Isn't that interesting."
Visch, who was standing next to her, asked quietly, "What?"
"Our captain, the man with nerves of steel when dealing with the Klingons in a life-threatening situation, turns into nervous teenager as soon as he sees this woman's face. She had him sweating, let me tell you. I could feel the fear without even trying," she giggled.
Zhukov scowled at the gossipy doctor and growled, "I do not believe this conversation is appropriate, Doctor. I presume you have something more urgent with which to occupy your time." This last was an order, not a inquiry.
Now it was Dr. Kramer's turn to be unnerved. She and Zhukov had not gotten off to the best start in the past couple of weeks, and the big Russian first officer intimidated her like no one she had ever met. She wasn't quite certain why – she wasn't prone to being intimidated and even others more physically imposing than Zhukov had not had the same effect on her – but she disliked the feeling immensely and tried to avoid Zhukov whenever possible. This wasn't hard; Zhukov hadn't visited Sickbay very often, and as long as there was no problem requiring his attention he was content to delegate mundane administrative responsibility to his department heads. Concentrating very hard on her console, she managed to mumble a confirmation that satisfied Zhukov and got rid of his unwanted attention.