SD241912.22 || Joint Log || "Unspoken"

Posted on 22 Dec 2019 @ 10:44am by Captain Mallory Thorne & Lieutenant Yam Prat

884 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: Tyr's Hand
Location: Bridge, USS Odin

=/\= Begin Log =/\=

Everything was moving too fast for Captain Thorne...

...and yet everything was moving way too fucking slowly all at once.

Mal had spent a little of her time that day contemplating the paradox in that, but she knew she couldn't stay in her ready room this whole time. Even if she wasn't letting most of the crew leave the ship, it didn't mean she could stop being captain of said ship. That was the thought she had when she left the ready room for the bridge.

One of the many--almost all--of her department heads to be replaced since things went to hell, she saw one of the latest changes at tactical. She made her way down to the console and nodded once at Prat. "Lieutenant," she greeted.

By 0500 hours Yam had stretched, executed his usual routine of vigorous calisthenics, reviewed Tactical’s summary report from the previous day, and completed his morning ablutions. All of this was performed from the solitude of his room with enough attention to detail that might allow for any quickly accessible tidbits of information that could prove beneficial at a later time. Though leaving the Cardassia Prime meant that political machination wasn’t encountered on a daily basis, Voc Prat had instilled in his sons that advantages were to be pressed in any situation at all times. Besides, Yam had surmised only a small portion of the crew members to be competent--officers had been included in that count.

Having checked the status reports no less than eighteen times, he left his quarters for the bridge where a few posts were empty, but the majority stations had been manned. Along with his salute, Yam calmly returned a placid, “Captain,” giving her a respectable amount of attention before returning his gaze to the holo-reports depicting the current layout of the starship’s weapons and defenses. “Shields functioning at 58% capacity, sir. Weapons remain at the ready on your call.”

Mallory nodded in acknowledgment. "Let's hope we don't need them, Lieutenant," Mal said simply. "I don't imagine our new...hosts--" By which she meant the Terran Union of this timeline/universe. "--would appreciate us shooting anything around their station."

A curt nod was Yam’s only acknowledgment, making the effort to keep confusion from touching his facial features. In his opinion, establishing an immediate base of power should have been Odin crew’s first objective while acclimating to their new strange environment; the captain did not appear to share in this sentiment. Or perhaps she has a plan of action for how to establish power in this timeline, he realized with a mixture of surprise and disappointment. Of course, Captain Thorne would make the appropriate preparations--the woman was shrewd and hardly the type to be satisfied with their current weak position.

Allowing a few moments of silence to pass, Yam began, “With it being likely the Terrans are...uncomfortable with our presence and our need of components for repairs it may prudent to make use of the weapons appreciation or no.” With practiced deftness, Yam drew up the cache report while turning slightly in the captain’s direction. “We’re also short of a full security compliment--though security isn’t unique in that regard after the last mission, but it’s a concern all the same. I'd recommend we marshal our strength while repairs are still ongoing. Possibly look to the Terrans for assistance in both regards? ”

One thing Yam had found difficult to do for all his training and Cardassian superiority was staring into the green pools of Mallory Thorne’s eyes. It both galled and intrigued him. In the past, there had been a need to identify his wariness about the woman, but for now, Yam set the old anxiety aside.

The debrief about the latest mission was scant in detail and while certain assumptions could be made, Yam had been taught to weed out as much misinformation as possible. Pulling at his uniform sleeve distractedly he added, “Perhaps a delegation can be dispatched to meet with the Terran leaders?”

Equal parts exhilaration and exasperation with himself warred for control. The question was both harmless suggestion and veiled inquiry of the true standing with the Terrans at this point. Ever playing the game… Yam thought sourly.

Mal restrained her initial reaction, which was something like a snorting laugh and a rolling of her eyes. Instead, she kept the placid captainly expression. "The Terran leader has already been met with, I assure you," she said simply. It didn't seem as much Starfleet thinking had gotten into her chief tactical officer, and she considered just...throwing him at the chief of security and seeing what happened. "For the time being, just keep an eye on things around us."

Mechanically, Yam answered with a compliant nod before returning to his work, “Of course, sir.”

Silently admonishing himself for the hamfisted attempt at intrigue, he set about reviewing engineering’s projections on the shield repairs time to completion. Another eight cycles? Perhaps a word with Dering would improve lead time Yam thought, but it was a preoccupied notion. All thoughts were for the captain’s words...and words that had gone unspoken.

=/\= End Log =/\=

Captain Mallory Thorne & Lieutenant Yam Prat, Chief Tactical Officer

 

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