You're the executive officer now

Posted on 24 Jun 2026 @ 2:04pm by Ensign Unknown 'Weirdo' & Lieutenant Commander Harva Taliborn

880 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: Unity
Location: Security Office, USS Odin

The Odin's (if not Starfleet's) largest officer lumbered towards where the computer told him Ensign Tychon was located. Heavy footfalls and a long shadow announced his arrival, even before the rumbling basso profundo did.

"Ensign, d'you have a moment?"

Last time Weirdo had seen the Sirran, he'd been wearing Engineering Gold, rather than the Command Red he was sporting now. Still the same Lieutenant Commander pips though, two gold and one black.

The man with the wild curls – also in uniform, these days, though wearing fewer pips by far – looked up from the PADD he was reading. There were at least half a dozen more, spread out across the desk.

The customary grin on the man's face had apparently taken the day off. Or the week, or however long he needed to solve a single question, and the answer might or might not be found in the pile of PADDs. Still, his voice was easy as always. "Of course, commander."

Harva remained standing, judging that the chairs here were not really suitable to securing his massive frame. He seemed relaxed, though the aging Sirran was not always that easy to read. "First things first; my sincere condolences, Ensign. I know commander Petrova and you were friends. Her loss is felt by the entire crew, and Starfleet lost a powerful officer."

He gave a nod of acknowledgement. "Thank you, commander." The sea-coloured eyes, still darker than usual – the depths of the sea rather than the shallows near the shore – took the large Sirran in. It wasn't hard to see what was different, it wasn't hard to reach the proper conclusion. It wasn't higher math, after all. "And, although I am sure everyone wishes the circumstances were different, congratulations on your promotion."

"Mmhm," was the large Commander's only response to that comment. Though what he said next was related to the promotion. "My first act as executive officer is to officially designate you the chief investigator into the Commander's murder. I trust your personal friendship with Petrova will not affect your judgment and investigation, except to strengthen your resolve to find the culprit." Although phrased as a question, it was not spoken as one, yet nor was it a challenge, rather an admission of trust in the young officer.

The nod which came back this time was strictly professional. "Thank you, commander."
Thus far, he had done a lot of investigating already. Reading all the reports which had been produced thus far, gathering information about the knife and all its cultural connotations, comparing timelines, watching footage from what cameras had been available in the station.

There was still that cold, clinical… no, it wasn't a mask, it was more the other way around. As if all his masks had been stripped away (or rather, cut away?) and only this remained, the very core of him: professional, driven, focused.

Being appointed chief investigator meant he didn't have to work through others to arrange matters on the station, one less hoop to jump through. It could make a difference, he was well aware of that.

There were still a lot of other hoops. Plenty of them, mainly on the Sal'kiiran side.

"Good," Harva continued, leaning back against a bulkhead and folding massive arms over each other. "This assignment comes with certain ... perks. I am invoking a rarely used clause, from the Starfleet criminal investigation and prevention code, page thirtyseven, section five, paragraph twelve. This means that in matters related to this investigation, you speak with my authority and carry the equivalent of my rank and position. This, I hope, will help in figuring out what happened," The large officer's voice softened a bit, ears lowering slightly.

"I'm aware of both code and clause," is the first, distracted answer. After all, it hadn't been that long ago since he'd taken the exams. Then he recalls himself. "Thank you, once again. This will help, indeed."

"Good," the Commander simply reiterated. "What have you found so far?" Such a simple question.

Simple questions rarely had short and simple answers. "Still gathering information," he replied, gesturing at the PADDs. "Autopsy report, analysis of the weapon, information about Sal'kiiran rituals and symbols of various groups. Camera footage from the station, insofar available. Puzzling those together isn't as easy as you'd think, since apparently not all systems are fully integrated. Witness reports, again, insofar available. It's remarkable how few people saw anything. Then again, people tend to see, but not observe."

"Hm. Isn't that the truth," the Sirran rumbled. Of course, in his past this fact had helped him out more times than he cared to count. It's amazing what one would get away with if one just abused people's natural inclination to not notice things. Small details that didn't add up. Only, right now this was working against them. "I'll - .. Get out of your hair and leave you to it, Ensign. If you need anything, resources, people, access - let me know, I'll do what I can."

"Appreciated, Commander. I'll be sure to make use of it." He forced a polite smile. Even to himself it felt forced, a hollow mask, a mockery of his usual grin. It didn't linger long, it was gone before Harva left. Once again he focused on his PADDs, hoping to find… something.

 

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