PLOT LOG - Changing Tides

Posted on 11 Jan 2021 @ 7:03pm by Captain Mallory Thorne

743 words; about a 4 minute read

"It's time to get back to work."

This was how Captain Mallory Thorne concluded the first senior staff briefing that the Odin had since beginning their vacation period here at Albus. There hadn't been a lot to cover since blessedly little had actually happened over the past few weeks, and Mal had been thanking every god she could think of for that. It had mainly been a matter of staff changes, since there had been several of those. The long-term stasis chambers had not remained vacant for long and now housed several members of the ship's crew. On the upside, the death rolls hadn't been as long as previously...

Yes, on the USS Odin, that was an upside now.

They still had their friendly Terran Union observer keeping them company, although Lieutenant Colonel Reyes hadn't had much to say. The rest of the senior staff filed out of the briefing lounge until only Mallory was left. Commander Hawk had been among them, and Mal was still trying to figure out what she thought about that woman. Reyes and she hadn't spoken, had barely looked at each other, through the whole briefing, so there wasn't much love lost there apparently.

Once they were all gone, Mallory took a slow, steadying breath and readied herself for whatever was going to come next...

...and she followed her crew onto the bridge.

They all took their seats, and Mal settled into the Chair of Responsibility in the very center. She ordered a course to take them away from the station, leaving what had turned out to be a very lovely planet behind them to continue exploring their new home. However much they want to resist against it, they were here and they had yet to find much of anything they could do about it. So, in true Starfleet fashion, they would continue to focus on the idea of exploring the unknown. That was an upside to this part, at least: everything was new and unknown to them around here.

Unfortunately, all this new and unknown seemed to want to kill them too...

=/\= Three hours later...

They had been traveling for a time at a healthy speed, looking for something to look at--basically. That was what exploration was all about, when you really boiled it down. Mal had retreated to her ready room for a time to study some of the reports in the PADDs stacked up on her desk. She was fairly convinced they had bred and multiplied during the time she hadn't been in there, but she had no way to prove it. Maybe one day, she would. She would publish a report in the Federation Journal of Science... If...there still had been a Federation Journal of Science. That thought began to depress her--

"Captain to the bridge."

Timely interruption.

She left the PADDs behind her and returned to the bridge.

"We are receiving a distress call from the CFS Rogers," Lieutenant Veera reported from the ops console.

"CFS?" Mal asked Reyes, who happened to be on the bridge.

"Civilian Freighter Service," she explained. "This must be a merchant ship of some sort."

"They are reporting that they are under attack by a Romulan warbird and they are requesting assistance," the report continued.

"How long would it take to reach them?"

"Eight minutes at best speed," came the reply.

Mallory cast a sidelong glance toward Reyes. "Is there a can of worms that'll be opened if we help them?"

Reyes smiled mirthlessly. "Not that I am aware of. Romulans have been attacking our supply lanes lately, and civilian craft tend to have limited offensive and defensive capabilities. If they're under attack by even a single Romulan warbird, they are going to need help or they will all be dead." One thing that could be said for Colonel Reyes, she certainly didn't mince words.

"Set a course," Mal ordered immediately after. "Best speed. Engage."

=/\= Eight minutes later...

The ship raced onward to the ship under fire, relieved to find that the vessel was still in one piece even though there was, indeed, a warbird laying down heavy fire. The civilian ship had to have one hell of a pilot, though, because that ship--as bulky and not maneuverable as it appeared--was evading far more of the enemy weaponry than Mal would have thought possible. "Target the warbird," Mal ordered immediately. "Fire phasers."

If only everything had been what it appeared to be, in that moment.

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