First Mission

Posted on 19 Mar 2026 @ 4:36pm by Ensign Unknown 'Weirdo' & Captain Brynhild Kleim & Commander Kristiana Petrova

2,689 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: Unity
Location: Unity Station
Timeline: Nearing the end of the award ceremony / festivities

Kristiana was actually having fun. Which was entirely unexpected during a social get-together like this. Maybe she was softening a little in her old age? The thought amused her. She was not old old, she knew, but she was feeling the effects of her age. Her prime was behind her, her reflexes and eyesight were no longer what they once were, though both were still good enough for her starfleet duties. She just needed reading glasses for the smallest text and details, and was planning to start carrying a pair wherever she went - after the party, at least.

For now though, she was enjoying her drink - though the Russian in her wished there was real vodka instead of this fake synthehol stuff, but she would survive. She had some of the real stuff in her quarters and would relax with a bit before the night was over. Mingling was the order of the day though, being seen, talking about this and that with the crew, meeting dignitaries, presenting the best Starfleet had to offer. Or was that pretending to be the best Starfleet had to offer? Either way, she understood the importance of this social function and was going to do her best to present a presentable, respectable, friendly face for th -

"Johnston to Petrova. Another security alert in that sector. Probably false alarm, but someone's going to have to go check it out," her comm badge informed her. With a sigh and an apology to some crew and some Sal'Kiiran she had been chatting to she put down her half empty drink glass and vacated the conference hall. North-east, she remembered the way from right before the function had started. Part of her was annoyed at the unreliability of half-baked, half-finished, incomplete and uncalibrated security systems. Part of her knew that it was just how things went, that this was just par for the course for this type of large scale construction, space stations, stardocks and the like. All of her didn't notice the shadow unseen, following her.

A little while later Brynna's comm badge chirped, followed by strange sounds. Wet scraping, some faint gurgling, before it cut off.

The party had been fairly tolerable up until that point for the ship's captain as well. She had never been much for "small talk," but she did enjoy meeting members of the ship that she had yet to while also meeting some captains of other ships that had come as part of the convoy plus some of their new Sal'kiiran neighbors.

The chirp of her comm badge surprised her, although it did not startle her, and she responded. However, there was no voice. Only...sounds. Her instincts immediately went on edge, and adrenaline dropped into her system as she tried to parse what it was she was hearing. There was nothing to go on, however, so she first went to find her XO...but she couldn't. She tried to comm her, but it was unanswered.

Stepping away from the party, she spoke in a low tone and asked the computer the location of Commander Petrova while scanning for whatever security officer was closest. Until she knew more, she didn't want to start a panic, but a sense of dread was growing.

"Commander Petrova is not aboard the station." the computer intoned. Which meant, her signal was not anywhere where the station's internal security and sensor grid was fully operational.

"What the hell do you mean--" Brynna began with a hiss, until she realized that she was about to get into a fight with the station's computer. "Is Commander Petrova on the USS Odin?"

"Negative."

The adrenaline did not fade with this news. She spotted a gold-colored uniform and hurried up to them. Of course, as she drew closer she realized it was their newest security officer, but they were still security. She would call the chief as they went, but she needed security now. She approached the man and got his attention, nodding away from the party. "With me, Ensign."

The man was actually enjoying the party - making the rounds, talking with lots of people, dancing, things like that. Generally enjoying the mood and the different cultures. But the moment the captain approached and addressed him, he snapped immediately into professional mode. He nodded briskly. "Yes, sir. Scuse me for a moment, I'll be back soon. Save me a spot!" He moved away from the group and joined the captain. "What's going on?" he asked in a low voice.

Brynna paused once they were away from any others and spoke quietly. "My first officer is apparently missing. Maybe it is a computer issue or something wrong with her comm badge, but I heard something odd from her and now nothing. The computer is not seeing her on the station or the ship. I don't want to cause any sort of panic just yet so I would like your assistance to find out what is going on."

"What did you hear, captain?" He pulled a device from a pocket as he spoke in order to call up the comm logs, insofar as they were present here. Another screen was used for a second query, a list of security alerts.

"I'm not really sure," Brynna admitted with a faintly frustrated expression and shake of her head. "Something scratching or scraping against something else. Something... I don't know, wet, like a cough or something." She was far better visually than aurally, but she relayed it as best you can. "I am going to go back to the ship and check in there, and I'll make sure some other security assists you, but I want you to work on locating her immediately. But try to keep things quiet for now so we don't freak out the rest of the crew or our hosts yet until, unless, we have reason."

"Understood. On it. I'll keep you posted, captain." The man gave a slight nod and looked at the information. North-eastern section of the station, security alert called in just under half an hour ago, nothing after that. Last known location of Kris's comm badge was... well, not close to that area, to be fair, but there were plenty of gaps in the monitoring system as of yet. About halfway between here and there, roughly.

It was a switch which still surprised people, on occasion. The bright, bouncy mood which he usually was in, with his attention seemingly all over the place - certainly during such a wondrous night, at a party - which immediately sharpened to a laser focus the moment he was called into action. He tapped his own comm badge. "Tychon to T'sal. Meet me outside the conference hall." Not even a hint of his usual bright smile at this accidental rhyme. He was, indeed, all business now.

"On my way, Ensign," Petty Officer T'sal's response was matter-of-fact and to the point, like everything else about the young half-Vulcan security person. Some had questioned the logic of a half-Vulcan, a combination known for their inherent promise and potential, to choose an NCO track, but she'd always simply waved those concerns away by saying that she'd always believed that it was the non commissioned officers who did all the real work and made all the real difference.

It didn't take T'sal long to make her way to the corridor outside the conference hall, tricorder and type II phaser holstered on her belt.

By the time T'sal joined the very very brand-new Security ensign, he had also outfitted himself and brought her up to speed with a few short words. He always appreciated Vulcans or Vulcan-trained people, they never asked unnecessary questions and came straight to the point. "The last ping on her badge was here, just outside one of the dark zones," he said, pointing at the map. Such as it was. It was based on blueprints of the station, but revisions and additions were made every day and they weren't always updated immediately. "The security alert came from here. I suggest we check out both locations and be on alert for anything unusual... Not just there, but in general.The sounds the captain had described concerned him.

"With urgency in mind we might split up to cover more ground, or we could stick together and move as a unit. Either choice is rooted in logic. I would recommend we stay together though, one leads with a tricorder while the other covers with a phaser set to stun, just in case," she placed a hand on her phaser as if to illustrate the point, quickly memorizing the shown map. "It's your call, Ensign."

He had already come to the same conclusion. "I agree. Two pick up more than one, and less chance of getting surprised. I'll take point." He set off, tricorder in hand and all senses sharp.

He hadn't been often on this station, and not all areas had been open to him. He knew every inch of the Odin by now, the ebb and flow of her sounds, the mood of the ship and her crew. The station, by contrast, was an unknown. So he kept all his options open as he scanned around, looking and listening for anything that felt... off.

T'sal followed behind, phaser drawn but set to stun and held at low ready. Two saw more than one, for sure, and so the pair slowly, cautiously, headed deeper into uncharted territory. Deckspace, only half finished. Bulkheads uncompleted, wiring incomplete and handing out in the open. Part of the security grid not yet installed, which is why the computer couldn't scan here. Up ahead, a corner, though amidst all the grays and neutral beiges with blue accents, a splash of red on the floorplating.

He raised a hand, the usual 'wait' gesture, then pointed at the stain. The less talk, the better. Sound carried, certainly in places like these, where there were so few other sounds to mask it. They moved quietly, both of them, their booted feet making only minimal noise as they walked.

He pointed at himself, then at the spot again, then gestured to T'sal to keep distance and keep a close eye on him. Then he inched forward, looking not just around but up and down as well (people, he had noticed before, so often forgot to look in three dimensions, and if they used the third, then down was far more natural than up), and scanning the hell out of the environment with the tricorder.

No life sig - ... Wait - ... One life sign. Very, very faint. Just around the corner. The splash of red identified as blood. Human blood. Leading around the corner, in the direction of the fading life si - ... and it was gone.

He did not follow his first impulse, which was to rush around the corner blindly. Corners and doorways, a warning voice reminded him. It could be just what he thought he'd see, a person, or it could be a trap. He motioned T'sal closer, so he would continue to remain in her line of sight, then took two steps to the side so he could see around the corner.

The splashes of blood became thicker, became a trail. Like dragging something through it, or something bleeding being dragged. Or dragging itself. The trail became a puddle, became a pool, as there lay the source of the blood. A figure, in Starfleet dress whites, now soaked red. She - the figure was quite obviously an auburn-haired female - looked like she had been trying to drag herself down the corridor, but now lay unmoving, on her stomach, one arm out as if to reach. A glint of metal protruding from her back; the hilt of a knife, the blade embedded all the way in.

The tricorder showed no life signs.

He took all of this in with a single glance. The world around him seemed to have snapped into an extra focus the moment he saw that patch of red, he saw, heard, noticed everything with a cold detachment. Everything.

Without looking back - although he did keep looking around, not just his eyes on the slumped figure on the ground - he said curtly: "T'sal, to me." Two steps forward brought the body within reach, and during those steps, he already tapped his comm badge. "Tychon to Odin, lock on to my comm badge and transport directly to sickbay when I say go, prepare for resus. Transport the comm badge only back to this location once she's there." He planted the comm badge on the woman and added: "Go."

There had been no time (ha, that's a funny one, a deep and distant part of himself commented, for what reason he himself didn't know) to check whether the person was indeed Kris or someone who looked like her, there was no time to check if she still wore her own comm badge or if it had been taken away. The life signs had winked out only seconds before, there was still a chance to retrieve her, but such chances decreased by the second.

There was nothing he could do about that, the rest was up to the people in sickbay. He could only hope they would be able to bring her back.

He could only hope they were smart and would try to get the knife out without ruining potential fingerprints or other evidence. For this was something he could do, something he needed to do. Figure out who had done this, and why.

The figure disappeared in a blue shimmer. A moment later, the comm badge appeared again, stained sanguine.

"T'sal to Odin Security, I need a forensic team on the station, floor seventeen, section thirtytwo, corridor twelve. Bring portable forcefield projectors. We have a crime scene," Her voice was matter of fact, the tone calm, though the words carried a lot of weight. She beheld Tycho for a fleeting moment, expression unreadable, though his certainly spoke volumes. She had never seen him like this, and hoped never to again.

One step, careful not to tread on evidence, on the blood, and a hand placed on Tycho's shoulder. Her words soft now, that human being allowed out. "I know you two are friends," Are. Not Were. Are. Trying to keep things positive, trying to hold on to hope. "Go to her. I've got things under control here."

The look she got from him resembled, if she had to compare, that of a Kolinahr master. "There is nothing I can do while they are trying to revive her." He picked up the comm badge, wiped it clean and placed it back on his chest. "If they succeed, I take it they'll let me know. If she wakes up, I'm pretty sure they'll let me know. If they cannot revive her, finding who killed her is the last thing I can do for her." He gave her a slight nod. "Your... concern... is appreciated."

Those last three words appeared the only moment he lets some emotions seep through, then he was all business again. At that moment, the forensic team appeared and he turned to them, rapidly appraising them of the situation and giving his orders.

Portable forcefield emitters placed, locking down the scene. Scanners deployed, recording every detail. Pictures taken, using broad spectrum lighting to catch details that were outside the normal visible spectrum. The forensic specialist team moved quickly and efficiently, though carefully. They understood more than most how important every little detail could be, even the ones you couldn't see.

As they worked though, Tycho's comm badge went off again. A light voice spoke heavy words. "Ensign Tycho. We - ... couldn't save her. Commander Petrova is dead."

"Understood." The sea-coloured eyes turned a dark, dark blue, the colour of the deep ocean, and his voice was cold as the depths of space. The forensic team was conducting their investigation around him. There was little he could add to this situation, other than a potential further tainting of this crime scene. "On my way."

 

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