| May 13th, 2155
| Barracks Accommodation, Andorian Imperial Guard Vessel Docona, At Warp
| 1300 Hours

Fumbling in the dark, reaching for the vital component, his fingers numb from the unrelenting cold. It was vital he got the piece into place, so much depended on this. He could feel his breath misting before him even in his blinded state. He clicked the power cell into place, a satisfying click. Almost there, he could feel his enemy getting closer. He thumbed the power button and heard the rifle charge up.

Taking off his blind fold in a rush 1st Lieutenant Dalton Wakefield placed the rifle on the table, "Done!" He yelled, raising his fists in the air in victory. His 'enemy', an Andorian Imperial Lieutenant was still fumbling with his power cell. Sitting opposite each other with a table in between, the two were surrounded by several MACO and Andorians.

"Final function test, gentlemen," The Andorian Guard Commander ordered, gesturing to the Andorian across from Wakefield, who had now just assembled his weapon. The two stood, raised the weapons and aimed at two holographic target balls. One shot rang out, a look of amazement on the gathered audience. Wakefield lowered the weapon having successfully hit his target. The other contestant still having issues with an upside down power cell.

"Lieutenant Wakefield, winner," the Guard Commander announced, causing a round of cheers and high-fives with the MACOs, and looks of embarrassment with the Andorians.

"Well thanks for the souvenir gentlemen," Wakefield said, looking at the Andorian Phaser rifle he held in his hands. Powering it down he passed it to his First Sergeant, Staff Sergeant Thorbjorn Ragnar, a large grin on the Scandinavian's face.

Wakefield took in his surroundings, the barracks aboard the Andorian ship Docona were just above freezing, the MACOs all donning their winter gear, all being warmed up by their steaming home brewed coffee. The Andorians mixing with their guests, wearing just their normal duty wear, not affected. After the successful training between the two groups the camaraderie was high, as well as morale.

Traveling on board the alien vessel had been a unique experience for Dalton and his MACOs, and he could imagine each one of them wanted a hot shower. The training area on Andoria being below freezing, and the Docona running well below the norm for humans, it had been uncomfortable for the duration. With the training now over it was time for some relaxation, a little friendly competition and something to pass the time before reaching the Discovery.

Taking a seat on his bunk, Dalton grabbed a brew and warmed his hands. Another round of suggestions for competitions rang out from the groups of soldiers. One such competition said in jest was an Ushaan duel, ending with first blood from the torso. Wakefield smiled watching the back and forth. Joined by his right hand man, Staff Sergeant Ragnar, Dalton passed him the brew.

"Were you going to tell them?" Thorbjorn asked knowingly.

"Tell them what?" Dalton said beaming. He knew full well.

"That you.." He changed his tone lower, "That you've field stripped one of those before?"

Dalton put a finger up to his lips, "Got a spare space on my wall ok."

Thorbjorn laughed, a big laugh from his belly.

"Go on, bugger off Staff," Dalton joked, pushing the large Viking off his bunk, before laying down, his rucksack forming a pillow for him to lay against. Pulling out a PADD, he wanted to go through his information packet on the Discovery once again. Familiarization was key to working with Starfleet, on a Starfleet vessel. Dalton wanted as much of an upper hand as he could, not to prove anything, but to make a good impression, as he was representing the MACOs to this newly formed crew.

After an hour, he took a glance at his chronometer, 2 days to rendezvous. His orders had changed since the Discovery's launch timetable had been brought up by 2 weeks. A slight shock for he and his group, as well as diverting from a trip home to straight redeployment. He was used to it. Switching off his PADD he looked up to the still lively barracks.

"Might as well get some more souvenirs," he muttered, "What's an Ushaan?" he said to no one in particular.

| May 14th, 2155
| Bridge, Discovery NX-04, At Warp
| 1100 hrs

The ship had been at warp just long enough for Christina to be happy that the ship would hold steady before she called Anziano to the bridge and asked the rest of the senior staff to join her at the rear of the bridge, around the situation table. She had promised them all a proper briefing on their mission, and now that they were safely en-route, she could divulge all of the necessary details to them.

Anziano stepped from the lift and strolled quickly to find a place. He looked focused, even a little preoccupied. He didn't see the necessity of excusing his slight tardiness given that everyone knew he was a very busy man.

"Now that everyone is here and we are on our way, I can brief you on the particulars of our mission," the captain started. She knew that Cayne already knew the broad strokes, but most of the rest of the crew had been kept in the dark to preserve the security of their assignment. "As you already know, we are on our way to Deneva. Earth has a colony there which has begun to develop into a major trading route, visited regularly by the ECS as well as the Vulcans and the Tellarites."

"I have visited Deneva twice," Doctor Maya reported. "Once when I served with the High Command and once when I participated in the Interspecies Medical Exchange. I was struck by the natural beauty of the countryside and the respect the settlers had for their environment."

"It is also home to a vibrant independent music culture," Carpegiani interjected, sudden vivid memories of long nights at one of his favourite venues intruded into his thoughts. "If you like that kind of thing," he added, remembering this probably wasn't the best place to talk about music.

"I've heard of slime devils," Anziano said under his breath, apparently looking at pad under the pool table.

The young blonde ensign kept her mouth shut for a change. They were already further from Earth than she had ever been. Though she was familiar with Denevan culture through what she had read, she didn't have any first hand experience to build upon.

Curtis reached over to the situation table and pressed one of the buttons next to the display, bringing up a pre-loaded graphic. It was a scan of an old citizen identification card, with the details showing that it was produced on one of the lunar mining colonies. The left of the card was dominated by a standard biographical picture; a man in either his thirties or forties with sandy brown hair and a nose that looked as though it may have been broken once or twice. "This is Luke Mosstaff. Starfleet Intelligence have him listed amongst a number of known Terra Prime members." She didn't feel the need to elaborate to them who Terra Prime were - the radical anti-alien organisation had made a very public leap into the public consciousness when they threatened to attack Starfleet Headquarters during the initial Coalition of Planets talks. "They believe that he joined up when John Paxton was running his father's mining installation on Luna after Mosstaff's parents were killed by Nausicans on the ECS Bonaventure. He wasn't aboard the mining station when Paxton took over the Verteron Array on Mars, and has been unaccounted for since - he was most likely off-world at the time.

"Starfleet now believe that he has aspirations to take over in the wake of Paxton's death, and lead Terra Prime in an even more aggressive direction. They have intelligence that indicates he is going to plant a bomb at the new Tellarite trading compound on Deneva and detonate it without giving any chance for an evacuation. Our mission is to get to Deneva before he has a chance to do that, and stop him."

"Should we not warn the Tellarites that their trading compound is in danger?" Maya asked.

"The problem we have with that is the same that has prevented me from giving you the full details until now," Curtis said. "Admiral Gardner is very wary of sending a transmission over subspace for fear of it being intercepted. He feels that if Mosstaff knew that we were aware of his plans, then he would accelerate them, potentially destroying the Tellarite compound before we can reach Deneva."

"Unfortunately the same holds true that if we don't alert the Tellarites, he may still manage to detonate his bomb before we reach the planet," Cayne added pointedly.

Curtis nodded. "It's a calculated risk, but one the Admiral feels we need to take. Chloe; I want you to buffer all outgoing communications. Allow the standard traffic to go out to stop our lack of activity looking suspicious, but keep a lid on anything that might give any hint of where we're going."

Bishop nodded. "Aye, Captain. That should be easy enough." There weren't a lot of outgoing messages most of the time, though there were still the typical location signals and log transmissions that were sent back to San Francisco. Starfleet was very interested in what their exploration ships could find, so the more updates the better. But no doubt Curtis's logs would need to be doctored to not give away their orders. Chloe was sure that she could come up with something.

"Luís, I know we left spacedock on a rushed schedule, and I want you and your team to know that I appreciate all of the work that you've put in to get us as ready as you have. I'm afraid they might still need to do a few more double shifts to get the rest of our critical systems working, but put everything not essential to our current mission on the back burner. I know that's not going to go down too well with some," she couldn't help but glance over at Leo, knowing how much he had been wanting the science equipment to be installed even as she knew he would appreciate the reason for the delay. "But I want you to make sure that they get some well deserved rest as they get the chance. That goes for you too."

"Dewitt, I want you to make sure that the weapons systems are ready. I don't know what we're going to expect once we get there, but I don't want to get caught with our pants down if Mosstaff has some firepower on his side in orbit."

"We'll be ready, Captain," Cayne answered. He already had a plan of the systems he needed to work on in the armoury and was already itching to be able to leave the bridge and get to them.

"Leo; I want you to keep your eye on the sensors. We'll be rendezvousing with an Andorian ship en-route. General Casey was able to assign us a contingent of the MACOs, but our advanced launch date didn't allow time for them to return from training on Andoria - one of the joint initiatives agreed with them during the Coalition talks. I believe the ship they're travelling on is called the Docona. As soon as you have a bearing on it, relay it to the helm. I want to get the MACOs aboard and carry on our way as quickly as possible."

The science officer affected a mock salute and said, "Yes, Captain." Like many in Starfleet's more scientific quarters, he worried about the militarisation that the MACOs represented and only grudgingly accepted the role they played.

"Doctor, I hope that we don't need your services on this mission, but just in case I'd like you to make sure you're prepared for any injuries in case we are too late or unable to stop Mosstaff. I don't know what kind of explosive he is likely to use, but it's likely to be a dirty bomb, so casualties probably won't be limited to just the Tellarites in the compound. If you need anything to prepare, let me know and I'll do my best to get it for you."

"We will need to check our supplies of inaprovaline and trinephedrine," Maya replied. "They are two medications manufactured on your planet that have been proven effective when treating Tellarites for circulatory shock."

"Crewman Ribbons should be able to help you with that," Curtis said, quoting the name of one of the medical technicians who had been seeing to things in the sickbay before the captain had requested Maya be assigned as CMO. "We should have a complete inventory of what we have aboard." The captain didn't know enough about medicine to even take a guess at what they had in stock beyond the names of the drugs she could remember were in the standard medkit from her survival training.

Christina took a moment to look around the faces of everyone, and knew that they were as disappointed as she was that their first mission wasn't going to be what they had signed up for. "I know that you all expected us to be out here exploring; following in the footsteps of Enterprise and Columbia and Challenger. And don't worry; we'll get there. But right now we're needed on Deneva. The Coalition could be one of the most important things that Earth does, but if anything happens to the Tellarites on one of our colonies, the whole conference would be derailed, and we will lose a chance to be part of something special. So let's get there, do what's been asked of us, and then we'll get to the exploring." She took another moment to look around everyone, and hoped that her words had had the desired effect. "Let's get to it."


_________________



_________________

| May 13th, 2155
| E-Deck, Discovery NX-04, Drydock, Earth Orbit
| 0700hrs

Christina strode down the corridors of E Deck zig-zagging through the corridors on her way from her quarters towards engineering. Last night was the first night she had spent actually aboard the ship rather than in her apartment in Los Angeles but she had thankfully avoided the problem she usually ran into when she slept on a new mattress and hadn't overslept. After quickly getting a shower and into a fresh uniform, she sent a message to her father to ask him to make sure everything in her apartment was squared away, and anything he thought she might need was put in a crate for transport to the ship. She was still tying her hair into a ponytail as she walked the length of corridor, manoeuvring out of the way of technicians passing her in the opposite direction as she held her hands behind her head to accomplish the task.

Her quarters were right to the front of the ship, and only a hull polarisation generator away from the navigational deflector, engineering was just aft of the very core of the ship; there was no single direct corridor to her destination and so her walk required winding through a few corridor junctions. It was at the second of these that the overhead lighting flickered and failed, with the emergency floor-level lighting remaining stubbornly unlit. "Ooh, don't you start playing up on me now," she said, speaking to her ship as she felt her way along the wall for a removable access panel so that she could try to tell in the dark if there was anything she could do from here. Less than two seconds later though, the overhead lighting returned, and after a brief pause, she continued on her way. "That's better," she muttered under her breath.

Five turns later, and she was approaching the hatch to engineering.

Over the time she had known him, Christina had come to regard him as a bit of a perfectionist, highly motivated in his work. Since she had given orders for the ship to be ready to launch by tomorrow, she had a pretty good feeling that one place her engineer would come to early in the morning would be engineering to check on 'his' engine - that was, if he had even gone to sleep at all last night.

"Luís," she called out, as she entered engineering and didn't immediately see him, before correcting herself given their formal setting. "Lieutenant Anziano? Crewman, have you seen the Lieutenant?" Of course, almost everyone in Starfleet knew even vaguely of Lieutenant Anziano from the PR projects Starfleet used him for, but Anziano and Curtis had spent some time together since they had both recently been assigned to Earth or Earth orbit, and had bumped into each other at a few semi-official gatherings since then. Curtis hadn't need to petition Starfleet much to let her have him as her chief engineer, considering the level of attention the man gave to his work when he was able to get away from the publicity shoots.

The crewman stood at parade rest, "Captain, he's under the warp core."

"Err.. thank you crewman," she responded, a little perplexed at the crewman's formal posture. Perhaps he was one of the Starfleet enlistees who came from naval families and had been brought up with the sensibilities of the military. Starfleet was never intended to be such an organisation, even though they did receive combat training and carry weapons for self defence.

Just as the crewman had said, Anziano was under the warp core. On his back, spanner in his mouth, up to his elbows in an open panel--the very epitome of a grease monkey. As the captain came close enough, he spoke loudly past the obstruction in his mouth to say, "Welcome aboard, Captain."

"Thanks," Curtis replied, not quite sure how appropriate the sentiment was. She had been aboard the ship many times during its construction, though she supposed that last night was her first night staying aboard. She supposed that the occasion did warrant her finally joining the few who called the ship home. "How are things going down there?"

"One moment," he said, gagging. After another second he closed the panel and took the spanner from his mouth. Once on his feet he dusted his hands before extending one to the captain.

"Good to see you again, Lieutenant," Christina said, taking the hand and giving it a firm shake. "How is our engine shaping up? I hope she's going to perform as we need her to when we launch."

"Always a pleasure. And we're not ready. We need three weeks. The whole thing could go up like a roman candle if we're not careful," he slowed down to punctuate his dire warning with a smile. "But I know we'll manage, somehow."

"We need to launch tomorrow," Curtis said, her voice dropping a few decibels to keep their conversation from carrying too far around the engine room. "I know it's cutting our schedule short - to say the least - but the mission Admiral Gardner has for us is time critical, and we're the only ship in range with the speed needed."

Anziano did not want to appear soft on his request for more time, or unbending to the necessities facing them. He gave a very slight, diplomatically impassive nod of the head. After a moment he cleared his throat and looked at his boots, only to look up at Christina with a sly smile, "I understand it's a mission of some importance."

"Yeah, you can say that again," Christina said, her eyes rolling involuntarily in her head. She had certainly felt as though Gardner was constantly breathing down her neck since he had given the assignment, and she knew that the rest of the crew would be feeling the same. Even if they weren't aware of the details, they would all know of the vastly advanced timetable, and know that something was going on. "But I'm afraid I can't tell you what it is yet - at least not until after we get underway."

"Well let me get back to work or we'll never get out of dock."

The captain chuckled despite herself. "Point taken. I'll leave you to your work, then. Let me know if there's anything that you need - other than more time."


_________________

| May 14th, 2155
| Captain's Mess, Discovery NX-04, At Warp
| 1800hrs

Christina was the first into the captain's dining room, having politely nodded and spoken with a few of the crew members who were eating in the main mess next door on her way through. She still had the feeling that it would be a little strange to have a dining room all to herself, though she knew that it was a Starfleet tradition - even the smaller ships in the fleet had a separate area for the captain to eat, and it was the usual place for any ship's guests to dine when formal dinners were arranged. She had been a regular occupant of the room on the Saratoga, as part of the tradition of the dining room was for the captain to share evening meals with their first officer, but it had always still been Captain Brody's dining room.

For the room's inaugural meal, she had continued with tradition and invited Commander Cayne to join her, and had also decided to invite Doctor Maya as well. She hoped to build a working relationship with each of her officers onboard in the months and years to come, and a good start to that was sharing a meal with them. Doctor Maya was the only non-human onboard, and so would likely be the most distant crew member for her to try and bridge that gap with; she was - as the doctor herself might have said - the logical first invitee.

Commander Cayne entered only a few minutes after the captain had settled herself into her seat, and nodded in greeting to her. "Captain." The table had obviously been set for three, and he moved to take the place on the far side of the table, with his back facing the stars. He had already eaten his first meal aboard the ship, having slept onboard since his arrival three days ago, but this was the first he had seen the inside of the captain's own private dining room.

"Commander," Curtis replied, allowing her thoughts to settle back in the here and now. "I hope you're hungry. I hear that Chef has decided on going all-out for our first meal in here."

"Famished," her executive officer lied. He had a reasonable appetite, but he wouldn't have described himself as starving just yet.

Just then the door chimed.

"Come in!" the captain called.

The door slid open to reveal the Discovery's only extraterrestrial crewmember, Doctor Maya of Vulcan. The slender woman was dressed in a flowing white gown that barely covered her shoulders. "Good evening Captain," she greeted in a calm musical voice. "I trust I am not late?"

"Not at all, doctor," Curtis answered, gesturing towards the seat on the opposite side of the table from her own. "Please, take a seat." As she lowered herself down into her seat, she heard the door behind her open as Chef's two assistants came in bearing their meals. "Ah, what do we have here?"

Curtis' meal was relatively simple to look at, but Christina knew that in no way implied that its taste would be similarly plain. A thick slab of rump steak took up the majority of the plate, cooked medium-rare; brown on the outside, with defined lines on the top as a result of the grill, but still pink and juicy in the middle. Almost as satellites to the star of the steak were five new potatoes, half a grilled tomato, a grilled mushroom and assorted salads.

Cayne's meal was along similar lines; a shaped dish sat atop his plate, full of the contents of one of Chef's chicken and mushroom pies, with a lid of crispy pastry. On the plate next to the dish was a healthy portion of thick fries and salad.

Speaking of salad, that was what Maya was having along with a hot bowl of fried rice and a bowl of what looked suspiciously like kung pao chicken without any chicken. The greenblooded physician nodded and stood before her meal. When Cayne gallantly pushed her chair in Curtis could tell that her executive officer was a whole foot taller than the little Vulcan.

"Thank you, crewmen," Curtis said as Chef's two assistance made their way out of the dining room.

"Thank you for inviting me," Maya said while picking up a pair of chopsticks. "It is indeed an honor to sit at the captain's table."

"Not at all, Doctor," Curtis responded. "I find I agree with Captain Archer's assertion that on missions such as Discovery's, it's important to get to know your crew on a personal level, as well as a professional one. We're likely to spend a great deal of time together, and I think that sharing meals together every now and then helps to ease things along."

"I agree," the little Vulcan nodded serenely. "For all intents and purposes, we are all family now."

"I like that," Curtis said, tilting her head as she considered that. The doctor was right; the crew would be living together aboard Discovery potentially for years to come. They may not be linked by blood, but they would have to look upon each other as family if they were to get along for such a long period of time; and potentially rely on each other for their very lives. She couldn't help but let her thoughts stray to the ship's first task; one that had a definite risk of life to it. Raising her glass of wine from the table, she tried to pull her thoughts back to the here and now with a toast. "To family."

"To family," Cayne agreed, raising his own glass.

"To family," Maya repeated stiffly as she mimicked Cayne's actions.

"So, Doctor; what part of Vulcan is it you're from?" Cayne asked, as he began to tuck into his meal. He'd had a look through the Starfleet records of most of the ship's crew as its first officer, but he hadn't had chance to read up on the doctor considering her late arrival to the ship.

"The Eithnir Province," she replied as she picked up her chopsticks and her bowl of meatless kung pao. “I must confess that it is a bit of a backward and traditional region. I suppose that every world must have them. I wasn’t born in the actual city, but in the rural village of Ní Bhraonáin. I suppose you could say I grew up in the doonies,” she said before she used her chopsticks to shovel spiced vegetables into her mouth, although what she meant by ‘doonies’ was anybody’s guess.

"There are a few places on Earth that are still like that," Christina said, taking a guess at what the doctor meant by 'the doonies'. "I visited a place called Bhutan a few years ago - they were the last country in the world to introduce televisions in the late twentieth century, whereas in most countries they had proliferated to almost every household decades earlier. They're still one of the last places on Earth to adopt new technologies - I didn't see a single piece of technology newer than the turn of the century there. But it is such a peaceful place; greenery everywhere, and so peaceful. They're the only country in the world to actually measure national happiness as part of government policy."

"My government did not measure 'happiness' like the government of Bhutan," the little Vulcan admitted. "On my world, the open display of emotions is considered the symptom of a neuropsychiatric disorder. I cannot truthfully say that I have ever met anyone from my home world who could truly be described as 'happy,'" she admitted before taking a sip of water.

"That's something I've never quite been able to get my head around with Vulcans," Cayne admitted, after swallowing a bite of his meal. "If you're never happy, does that mean you're all... miserable? Apathetic? I just don't see how you can be... nothing. Surely you have to feel something, at least some of the time."

"You bring up a very interesting point," Maya agreed. Although her tone was conversational, she seemed more animated, even going as far as to gesture with a finger. "It is entirely possible that by giving up our emotions we are also surrendering our motivations. It is very telling that in your language, the words 'emotion' and 'motivation' have the same root word that means 'to move'. It is possible that by suppressing our feelings that we risk being unable to feel, a word that describes using a sense, a faculty by which the body perceives an external stimulus. By denying ourselves the distraction of internal stimuli, we may be blinding ourselves to what truly exists."

"Have there been any studies on Vulcan to explore that theory?" Christina asked. She knew that were it Earth, any possible theory about anything would gather a group of curious individuals who would try and conduct case studies and experiments to prove or disprove the hypothesis, but she supposed that that behaviour itself stemmed from an emotion; curiosity. There was another issue with Vulcans studying whether their suppression of emotion was a hindrance too. "Aren't any groups which strayed too far from the accepted teachings of Surak and experimented with their emotions were considered almost as exiles or outcasts?"

“Indeed they are,” Maya replied. "They are given the pejorative term ‘V'tosh ka'tur’, that translates loosely into your language as ‘Vulcans without logic.’ They are considered crass and mentally unstable, but I wonder if they are simply trying to find themselves. Divorcing ourselves from a part of our ourselves seems belittling when one considers it, even though there are sound medical reasons for doing so.” Despite the subversive content of her words, the little Vulcan's tone remained casual and conversational.

"Well I'll give you this; you definitely seem to be one of the most open-minded Vulcans that I've ever met," Cayne remarked, before finishing off the last bite of his pie and taking a sip from the glass on the table in front of him. Turning his attention to the last few fries and pieces of salad, he continued. "Admittedly I haven't met many, but those that I have met seem to be very set in their ways. Emotions are illogical, no two ways about it and all that stuff."

"Closed-minded Vulcans tend to stay home and not visit other worlds," Maya explained. "One could assume that is the same for any species. But you have a point about emotions being illogical. Nearly all documented cases of it have led to negative consequences. But would a positive result be recorded by my civilizaton?"

Cayne shrugged at the question, not able to think up a response that would be short enough to let him get going but thoughtful enough to be of merit to the conversation. "Well, I hate to eat and run, but I've still got some things to do in the armoury before I turn in for the night," the tactical officer said, standing as he finished his meal and dabbing the crumbs away from his mouth with a napkin. "I've just finished realigning the forward proximity sensors, and there are a few other things that I want to see to before testing the targeting systems tomorrow morning. Give Chef my compliments."

"Of course, Commander," Curtis said, standing out of politeness to see her dinner guest off. "Just don't work too late. If you're testing the firing systems tomorrow, I don't want you asleep on the job."

Cayne chuckled. "Aye, Captain."

Maya had also stood up out of politeness, although whether that was the way she was raised or whether the little Vulcan was merely mimicking the captain's actions was unknown. "Until tomorrow, Commander," she said as she clasped her hands together and graced him with with a formal nod.

_________________

| May 14th, 2155
| Cargo Bay, Andorian Imperial Guard Vessel Docona, At Warp
| 0900 Hours


“Stand To! Salamander 1 on the firing line!” Bellowed Staff Sergeant Ragnar, standing facing the imaginary line marked by his position. The emptied cargo bay was now occupied by the MACOs for their training whilst on board. There was no way that Wakefield would let his team get soft on a cruise before their new assignment. Nor would he let himself get soft.

Wakefield stepped up to the line, as with the rest of the first Fireteam, decked out in full gear. Rifle, vest, sidearm, backpack and look of grim determination. He went through checking his equipment was in good condition, rifle was set to a low setting, to not blow a hole in the cargo bay wall.

The area they took up had been gladly cleared out by the Andorians, interested to learn more from their Earth counterparts. Several Andorians filled the gantry above the training area, awaiting a light show. Some had skeptical looks on their faces, thinking they wouldn’t learn anything, others leant forward showing their eagerness. Folded arms and twitching antennae, “Tough crowd,” Corporal Rachel Tracy commented.

“Detail! The following action will consist of 10 rounds primary weapon, transition to sidearm, 10 rounds, then finishing with 10 rounds primary. 30 rounds to be completed in your own time.”

Taking the standing shooting position, raising the rifle to the shoulder, he took up a sight picture. Leaning into the weapon, for stability and habits picked up from firing old projectile weapons. Dalton started his breathing, maintaining a regular and controlled breathing, feeling the adrenaline start to spike.
“Detail, Commence Fire!”

A chime sounded, and the first of the holographic target balls appeared, 5, one for each of the assembled shooters. Rounds rang out as the target balls moved erratically. Dalton marked his hits, 7 of 10, lowering his slung weapon with his secondary hand, he pulled his pistol from its holster in an extremely well-practiced way and continued firing.

Finishing the action, they returned to the at ease position.

“Detail, Unload! Make safe.”

Ejecting his power cell and flipping the safety catch, Dalton looked up to hear applause from the gantry, some genuine, some not so. A smile rolled across his lips, and he made a sideways glance to Ragnar, who raised an eyebrow.

“Let’s go dark and lose some weight,” He said, receiving a nod from his Staff Sergeant.

Ragnar marched to the wall control panel. Pressed a couple of keys, the lights went out in a flicker, and everyone started to experience weightlessness. Ragnar expertly pushed off from the wall and returned to his position.

Calling out the actions once again, Ragnar’s voice bellowed in the dark. Dalton flicked on his rifle’s light, as did the rest of the Fireteam. The only illumination was the beams of torch light, illuminating spirals of dust floating.

“Detail, in your own time, go on!”

Blue flashes of light lit the bay, and chimes of positive hits resounded. One of the MACOs over corrected their orientation and ended up doing a pirouette in the gravity less environment. A small smile crossed Dalton’s lips, as the constant flashing reminded him of a nightclub in London. Completing the detail, the group ceased fire and the gravity and lights returned to normal.

“Report!” Ragnar bellowed.

“9, 9, 8,” Dalton reported, being first in line. An above average score, and he nodded in acceptance of the mark.

“10, 10, 10,” Cpl Tracy followed, getting a surprised look from Wakefield, and a round of applause from the audience. Well trained Andorian Imperial guard, ice cold in their judgment, to hear such an outburst was a privilege.

The rest of the team rattled of their scores, all up Wakefield was impressed at the team’s effectiveness in Zero G. something to work on, but nothing to be scorned or reprimanded over. For a standard range practice it was common to get high scores. On training to complete room clearances or military operations in urban terrain, the scores get lower as the overall adrenaline kicks in. Fire and maneuver a lot of the time caused the best shots to go a little wild.

“Salamander 2 Stand to! Report to the firing line!” Dalton bellowed, his turn to lead the Detail, Ragnar taking his place.

The Discovery assignment gave him some excitement, to give a Starfleet crew the benefit of his training was something he looked forward to, as well as hoping to learn from their way of doing things. He wondered if he would get the chance to fill in as one of their Tactical officers for a bit, be on the bridge and fire the big guns.

He made a mental note to check in with his host Captain, asking on their ETA.

“Detail! The following action will consist of….”

| May 15th, 2155
| Port-side Forward Armoury, F-Deck, Discovery NX-04, At Warp
| 0900hrs

Cayne had risen early on Discovery's second day out of spacedock, intent on working on the ship's weapons and targeting systems to have them ready well before their arrival at Deneva. He didn't expect this Mosstaff character to have gotten his hands on an armed starship for his mission, and he didn't know how willing they were to use alien mercenaries for the purposes of getting the job done, but in either case, he wanted to be ready to blow out of the sky anything that tried to come against them in orbit. They only had a few days until they arrived, and these systems were supposed to have gone through weeks of testing before they were to originally leave Earth.

"Morning Ensign," he said as he stepped through the hatch into the port-side forward armoury. Ensign Mark Wilson was one of the most certified armoury officers on Discovery aside from himself, and Cayne had enlisted him to help with setting up the first of the armoury stations. There were four in total on the ship, servicing the six torpedo launchers - four fore and two aft. The console in each armoury also provided direct access to the systems that controlled the phase cannons that were recessed into the ship's hull at various points, as well as the older plasma cannons that were still incorporated into the design of the NX starships - the direct predecessors of the phase cannons. The armoury console on the bridge could also perform many of the same functions, but it was equipped with far superior maintenance and diagnostic algorithms. Cayne also found it easier to focus away from all of the distractions on the bridge.

"G'day, Sir," the Australian responded, glancing around from where he stood in front of the main control console.

"Ready to make a start on these calibrations?"

"Too right I am, sir. I've been itchin' to get to work since we came aboard."

"Then let's get started. Have you got the torpedo targetting algorithms loaded?" Cayne asked, stepping up to share the console with his subordinate.

"I have sir. The calibration's way out of alignment; these targetting sensors are about as useful as an ashtray on a motorbike," Wilson replied.

"As in not at all?" Cayne responded, wanting to make sure he had translated the Australian turn of phrase correctly. He was no stranger to motorbikes, and although tobacco smoking hadn't been widespread on earth for a century, the act of smoking was still very much in the public consciousness - not least from all of the twentieth century movies digitised for public consumption. Since the act usually meant tapping the ashes of the buring tobacco leaves into an ashtray, the task was mutually exclusive with the the two-handed task of riding a motorcycle. "Well let's try and fix that. Pull up the files on the configuration of the targetting sensors on Enterprise and Columbia. We'll try each of their setups first, to see which is closest and work from there." Due to the unavoidable, yet minute, differences in the materials and components used in each of the NX-class starships, each needed the targetting sensors to be set up with a unique individual configuration. However using the configuration of the first two starships as a baseline would help them along the road.

As Wilson manipulated the controls, the configuration files for both ships came up from the databanks stored in the ship's library. The values for the different settings of the sensors were way off the initial setups on Discovery's weapons, which hadn't gone beyond anything more than a simple powerup test so far. Importing the configuration file from Enterprise's files first, the two saw the figures on the main display shift drastically, followed by the report of the automatic analysis of the computer to the new configuration.

"Targetting accuracy up to eighty percent," Cayne remarked, nodding his head at the fourty-seven point increase from the initial value. "Now let's try importing Columbia's setup."

As the second file was imported to override the values of the first import, the analysis ran again. This time the accuracy was up to 86%.

"OK, let's use that as a base and work from there. What's showing the greatest variance?"

"The port and starboard proximity sensors seem to be out of alignment with eachother. Their combined reading is giving an off-centre final target coordinate. Looks like the port sensor beam is coming up short."

Turning away from the main console, Cayne headed over to one of the wall panels over on the port-side wall of the armoury and removed it, revealing access to the systems running behind the bulkhead. With the armoury being so close to the sensor arrays at the front of the ship, any of them that required an interface with the targetting systems ran nearby, and so could be directly accessed without having to leave the room.

"Looks like there's some interference on the junction here," he said, as he looked at the small read-out linked in to the port-side forward proximity sensor. He frowned, knowing that all of these conduits should be quite well shielded to prevent any stray signals from affecting them in that way. "Hang on a minute..." his eyes had just caught sight of something that didn't match the rest of the components inside the wall panel, and it was fixed to the conduit for the proximity sensor. It looked like something cobbled together from spare parts - perhaps it was some sort of improvised fix or something that the engineering team had put in place to patch the system on their rushed schedule. As he reached out to touch it though, it began to emit a loud whine.

"What the-"

With a blinding flash, the device exploded, throwing the commander back across the room - thankfully empty of any live torpedoes, which were all still stored in the ship's magazine - and onto the deck.


-------------------

The ship shook violently, and the water from Curtis' shower sputtered for a moment before returning to a full flow. The distruption the captain felt was less quickly over came, as the unexpected movement of the decking beneath her caused her to slip on the wet floor and she fell into an unceremonial mess on the floor. Pulling herself to her feet, she reached past the shower's glass privacy screen and pressed the putton on the comm. system attached to the wall to open a line to the bridge. "Report! What the hell was that?"

"An explosion in the armoury, Captain," came the response after a short hesitation. Christina's heart sank as the implications of that statement set in. "Damage is too minor to have been a torpedo malfunction. We're sending engineering and medical teams to investigate."

"Drop us out of warp, full stop. I'm on my way to the armoury!" Curtis answered, turning off the water on the shower and reaching for a towel.

| May 14th, 2155
| Mess Hall, Discovery NX-04, At Warp
| 1200 hrs

After Captain Curtis had revealed the true purpose of the Discovery’s first mission, it wasn’t long before it was time for lunch. At 1200 hours, some of the officers received a break to go down to E deck and grab a meal.

On the starboard side of E deck was the Discovery’s mess hall. Boasting several large windows, the NX-class mess hall was a buffet-style environment; food prepared in the ship's galley was brought to the mess hall and stored in a refrigerated display case located on a bulkhead adjacent to a beverage dispenser.

As the ship’s doctor, Maya was one of the only people aboard who kept her own hours. Consequently, she was one of the first ones to arrive out of the assembled officers who had attended the morning meeting. She was a somber figure, clad in a dark floor length garment that made her appear as a priest more than a physician. Her raven tresses were covering the pointed tips of her ears but there was no mistaking her arched upswept eyebrows. At the moment, she was the only person in the mess who wasn’t wearing a uniform. She was the alien, the other, the stranger. It was anyone’s guess whether she would ever truly belong on the starship Discovery.

It wasn't long before another of the officers entered the mess hall. Ensign Chloe Bishop, armed with a datapad, was on a mission to learn her way around the ship. After nearly running over Commander Carpegiani, she needed to learn the layout of the ship before she caused any more accidents. She had spent the previous night downloading the schematics to the ship. Her first goal was to get E Deck sorted out. Since she was going to be living and eating on that deck, it was probably the most important. Getting to the bridge was easy enough, so she didn't have to worry there. Using the map on the datapad, she managed to make it from the turbolift to the mess without any problems, a victory that she celebrated privately.

Much of the food served in the mess hall was a result of protein resequencers. They certainly had nutritional value, though the menu was rather limited. It was a tall order for the small galley staff to provide food for everyone on the ship, so she had no choice but to relent. It was just going to be another thing to get use to about life on a starship. It was rough now, Chloe constantly reminded herself, but it was going to be much better once she began to work with new cultures.

Chloe requested a BLT sandwich and potato chips chips from the resequencer. At least they claimed that it was a BLT. She had her doubts about the bread and bacon. Tray in hand, she started looking for a place to sit, when she noticed their Vulcan doctor. Chloe had worked with Vulcans before through school and while working in San Francisco, and she was curious about getting to know Dr. Maya. Some people might have said that all Vulcans were the same, but those people hadn't had the chance to get to know them. Vulcan individuals varied just as much as humans, though she wasn't sure any Vulcan would admit it. She approached Maya, who was sitting alone, and asked in Vulcan, "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all," the little Vulcan replied in her native tongue. "Your command of my language is very impressive. If anyone wishes to learn my native tongue I shall not hesitate to recommend them to Stanford University."

One glance at Maya's meal revealed that the little Vulcan was well aware that perishables such as fruits and vegetables would become very scarce after a few weeks. There was nothing on her plate that had been salted, frozen, or reconstituted. If the Discovery didn't receive an underway replenishment shipment in a month or so it would be impossible to find an unreconstituted bean.

The ensign was impressed. "Thank you. I did have a very good teacher, Professor Sitak," she continued, still speaking in Vulcan. "I see you've been reading up on my bio. Stanford is a very good school. I actually chose it for its reputation in linguistics."

"My apologies Ensign, but I have only just came aboard and I have not had time to familiarize myself with the personal histories of any of the crew," the little Vulcan replied. "The reason why I inferred that you had studied my language at Stanford is because you are wearing your class ring,” she added as she pointed a casual finger at Chloe’s hand. “You graduated as part of the class of ’52, unless your initials are ‘SZ’. In addition you pronounce your words the way natives of the ShiKahr province do, and I happen to know that Professor Sitak grew up in the city of ShiKahr. When these observations are placed together, the logical inference is that you learned to speak my language at Stanford University.” Maya paused to squint at the potato chips on Chloe’s plate. “Pardon my asking, but are those giant flakes a delicacy?”

She was quite impressed with the Vulcan's deductions. But then again, she learned during her time at university not to underestimate anything when it comes to the Vulcans. She waved her hand with the class ring in the air. "I forgot I was even wearing it. I suppose my accent was pretty noticeable. Professor Sitak tried to be more varied, but I suppose part of him rubbed off me."

She considered the question about the chips being a delicacy. It was an unusual question, but not surprising considering that the Vulcan was not from Earth. "We call them potato chips, though some parts of the world call them crisps. I wouldn't exactly call them a delicacy though. You can get them just about anywhere on Earth. Actually, they're not really that good for you either, but they're a comfort food." Chloe took a bite of one of the potato chips, making an odd expression before forcing a smile. "I suppose they're close to the real thing, though a little salty." Chloe eyed the fresh food on Maya's plate. "Then again, nothing will ever be quite as good as the real thing. I've been trying to train myself to get used to the engineered food substitute. So far it's going, but not necessarily going well."

“I shall soon be required to do the same thing,” Maya admitted. “Your people put sodium chloride on most of what you eat but my ancestors spawned from different oceans than yours. My body’s salts are quite different. Incidentally, my name is Maya. May I ask your name?”

"Oh, where are my manners," the ensign exclaimed with a bit of surprise. "I'm Chloe Bishop. I'm the ship's chief communications officer." Usually she would have offered her hand, but she knew that most Vulcans preferred to not make personal contact with another person. "I would wager a guess that you are our ship's doctor. Though my observational skills are not quite as keen as yours. It just happens that there aren't many Vulcans on board."

"There is another Vulcan on board?" Maya blinked. "I was under the impression I am the only one."

"Oh, no, no, no, no. It's just an Earth expression, an over exaggeration," Chloe tried to explain. "I'm not familiar with the entire crew, but I would be surprised if there was another Vulcan on board. I know your people have been on Earth for a while, helping us with a lot of different things, but there's still a bit of distrust, even among Starfleet. Fortunately our recent alliances have been helping people get over that. But as you can tell from our mission, there are still some people who think Earth should stand alone in the galaxy. But I doubt that we have anyone like that on Discovery though."

"There are those on my world who think that Vulcan should stand alone as well," Maya admitted. "The Vulcan High Command was riddled with them. There is nothing special about bigotry; it is the one thing that all peoples seem to have in common. Fortunately most species that have achieved faster than light travel have made pains to outgrow their prejudices rather than embrace them."

"I suppose you're right," Chloe added. "Bigotry is certainly nothing new in Earth's history. It's just that now, people are looking to the stars for their disgust instead of looking at each other. I wish I could say that it's an improvement, but then again it's really just more of a redirection. Hopefully in time we can learn to celebrate each other's differences, and not be repelled by them."

"It may come as a surprise to note that my people have not entirely given up looking at each other when it comes to disgust," the little Vulcan said. "The recent overthrowing of the High Command and the exposure of their offenses illuminates that fact in stark detail. I have chosen to celebrate differences." Maya's preference for salads was now made clear; she didn't have to worry about her food growing cold. And the reason she was aboard a ship ran by Terrans rather than spending time with her own people was becoming less mysterious.

"As have I, Doctor. I've always been interested in learning about different cultures. I was learning to speak Vulcan years before I even considered a job in Starfleet. I'm excited to get out there among the stars, finding new life and new civilizations." Chloe finally took a bite of her BLT. While it had been sitting for a little while, it hadn't grown too cold. But the taste still left something to be desired. "I just need to learn to like the food, and learn how to not get lost."

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| May 15th, 2155
| Barracks Accomodation, Andorian Imperial Guard Vessel Docona, At Warp
| 0945 Hours

Completing his third set of pushups, he swapped positions to the sit-up pose, and started his third set of them. The gym onboard the Andorian vessel was sparse, and the machines contained within were of an unusual configuration, with the want to just workout, Dalton skipped the equipment. Returning back to the old faithfuls, the pushup, sit up and the burpee, he was working up a sweat, despite the nagging cold.

The last few days spent on the Docona had been a great experience, training with the Andorian Guard, but more towards forming long term friendships and interoperability between forces. Another step toward reinforcing the Coalition partnerships.

But the living conditions were not the most hospitable, the cold was a constant companion, slightly unwelcome for such a protracted period of time. He wasnt complaining, just chilled to the bone. The food was the next point, what he could only describe as porridge with twigs, but with more water than one would desire, was the main sustenance aboard. He had authorized the use of some of the MACO's ration packs they had transported aboard for the Discovery. Just one per 48 hours, to supplement the lack of a nutritious diet.

Getting used to the genders was also a tough prospect, there was four of them. Getting the pronouns correct was like walking in a minefield. The genders, zhen, shen, chan, and thaan. They had been shown some consideration for being basically galactic tourists, but it was wearing thin. Misreading a sign to a shower room was apparently frowned upon.
From his accident he discovered however that the Andorian female bodies are mostly just blue, something he was curious about. A smirk crossed his face as he finished his set, and rubbed his face down with a towel.

1000 hours, he noted, still a couple of days away from Discovery, and he had gone through his regime of training pretty quickly. He didnt want to double up or triple book the excercises, as a few of them would be re conducted with the Starfleet personnel.

He considered for a moment asking Captain th'Ravisee for permission to conduct a mock boarding excercise, with the MACOs being the aggressors. For now he looked around the barracks, his people having a free day to work on their own work. Several were stripping and assembling their gear, some as he was were working out. Staff Sergeant Ragnar was instructing Corporal Tracy about her upcoming Sergeant Promotion course.

Just a couple more weeks in grade for her, and he could send her promotion request off to MACO Command. Promotions were one of the best things about being a commanding officer.

It brought him around to his own rank situation, flicking on a PADD, he looked at the last update from MACO Command. The promotion list, and once again his name wasn't on it, he shrugged and changed over to his personal files. Switching on to a pre-war show, an episode of Red Dwarf Season 3, he settled onto his bunk. A British sci fi comedy show about being lost in deep space. A favourite of his fathers, the show became one of his quite quickly.
Halfway through watching one of the main characters eating a can of dogfood, rather than a potnoodle, he was interrupted by one of the Andorian bridge officers.

"Lieutenant Wakefield, you are requested on the bridge," The Andorian officer said, raising an eyebrow as a spoonful of dog food was eaten on screen.

Pressing pause "Understood."

Arriving on the bridge, he reported to the Captain, "Sir?"

"Lieutenant, the Discovery has just dropped out of warp and is answering fullstop. I wanted you here when we hail them," Captain th'Ravisee explained.

Dalton nodded and faced the viewscreen. He wondered what could have made them stop so abruptly. Things could potentially be very interesting once they finally make the rendevous.

"Open a frequency to the Discovery."

| May 15th, 2155
| Port-side Forward Armoury, F-Deck, Discovery NX-04, Deep Space
| 0915hrs

By the time Christina had dried, thrown on her uniform pants, boots and undershirt and rushed down to F-deck, the damage control teams had already cleared the armoury as fit to enter. The door stood open, and the captain could hear frantic action inside as she pulled the upper portion of her uniform jumpsuit up over her shoulders and zipped it up. She stepped over the door frame and stopped at the sight before her.

The wall panels on the port side of the room were scorched; clearly the source of the explosion. A number of engineers were clustered around it, trying to make sure that there were no other explosives within and trying to remove the damaged components. On the steps leading to the main control console - which showed a number of warnings across it - sat Ensign Wilson, the left arm of his uniform scorched, with small burns on his hand being treated by Crewman Ribbons.

On the floor, near the centre of the room, lay the prone form of one other individual. Curtis could only see the lower legs and the boots amongst the bodies surrounding the officer, but from those alone should could determine that the officer was most likely male. By the absence of his presiding presence over what was happening in the armoury, Christina knew it instantly to be Commander Cayne. Doctor Maya was one of those crowding around him.

"Doctor..?" Christina couldn't quite form the rest of her question, but from the tone it was clear she was asking about the state of her first officer.

There was a hesitation before the little Vulcan rose to her feet and turned to answer her. Her large hazel eyes were narrowed as if she was frowning. "My apologies Captain, but your first officer is dead," she reported quietly. "A splinter pierced his jugular vein, causing him to bleed out before I arrived."

Christina reached a hand up to her mouth in disbelief and shock. Barely out of spacedock, and already she had lost someone - a member of the crew whom it was her responsibility to protect. She knew that she couldn't allow the crew to see her in any sort of disarray now; they needed to see someone who was decisive; someone who would look to make sure that the same didn't happen to any of them. She turned towards the engineers by the wall panel. "What happened? Faulty component? EPS surge?"

"There was a small device affixed to the port-side proximity sensors," the head of the damage control team said, stepping over to the captain. "The yield was pretty low, so the damage to the systems is comparatively minor; there's a chance the device wasn't constructed properly. The explosion was powerful enough to take out most of the systems behind this panel... and of course the commander."

An explosive. That meant that this was deliberate. Someone had planted it there. Perhaps not specifically to kill Dewitt, but certainly to cripple the ship's targeting sensors. It also led to the possibility of there being more aboard. "Have every system on this ship checked and double checked. I want no more surprises waiting to cripple us or harm any of the crew. We hold station here until we are certain."

"Yes, Captain," the engineer replied, before turning back to his work.

"Captain at this point I'd like to point out that it is unlikely that an improvised explosive device such as this could have been planted before we left drydock. Yesterday during our meal Commander Cayne informed us that he had just realigned the proximity sensors and was going to conduct weapon tests today. If the explosive was installed before we left Earth it would have been discovered earlier."

Curtis hoped that the doctor was wrong. Perhaps news of their mission had leaked, and a supporter of Terra Prime had been able to get aboard during the chaos leading up to their rushed launch. Security onboard hadn't exactly been the tightest it could have. But she knew that she couldn't afford to leave it at that. She stepped over towards the comm panel on the wall. "Curtis to Carpegiani." She paused as she considered the phrasing of her next statement, aware that she didn't know if the commander was alone or not, and wanting to have time to compose the news of Cayne's passing properly to present it to the rest of the crew. She knew she didn't have a lot of time to do that - already there would likely be talk going around - but she didn't want someone to have to overhear it from a wall panel. "Commander Cayne has been incapacitated; I'm making you our acting first officer. I want you to have security teams posted to all critical ships systems - the bridge, main engineering, the armouries, antimatter storage - everywhere that could cripple us should something go wrong. Then meet me in my ready room. I'll brief you fully there."

Releasing the push-to-talk button, she turned back around to Maya. "Please try and be discrete as you move him to sickbay. I want the chance to tell the crew myself what has happened."

"Of course Captain," Maya replied with a respectful nod. "If there is one thing my people are known for it is our discretion."

"Thank you, Doctor," the captain said. Pausing for a moment to cast one more involuntary look in Dewitt's direction, she turned and headed out of the armoury, on her way to the bridge to speak with Leo, and to try and compose the words she would say to the rest of the crew.

_________________

| May 15th, 2155
| Captain's Ready Room, A-Deck, Discovery NX-04, Deep Space
| 0930hrs

Christina stepped through the hatch into her ready room and immediately began pacing its meagre length, running her hands through her hair as she did so. She only crossed it once before beginning to speak, knowing that Leo deserved to know what she had just learnt. "There was an explosion in the armoury. Some sort of device attached inside one of the wall panels. No torpedoes were in the room, but Dewitt took the brunt of it in his face. He's dead."

Leo had been sitting in the chair next to the entry hatch when the captain stepped in. He stood up when she started pacing and felt the colour drain from his face when she imparted the news. He was shocked, having met with the Commander only a couple of days earlier in the armoury. He hadn't known Dewitt long, but he seemed a decent fellow and he looked forward to serving with him. "Mio Dio," he croaked as his hand instinctively rose to cover his mouth.

Christina allowed herself a moment to stop pacing, rest both hands on the end of her desk, and breath, trying to take in the morning's events. They were barely a day out of spacedock, and already a member of her crew - someone who had trusted her with their life - was dead. Was this a sign of things to come? Were they really going to get onto a mission of exploration, or was it just going to be one loss after another? She shook her head vigorously to dispel the thoughts and return her mind to the moment. "Doctor Maya thinks that the device that exploded may have been planted after we left spacedock. If she's right, that means we may have a sympathiser of Terra Prime on board. I've ordered Luís to perform a check of all ship's systems for anything similar before we carry on along our way, but unless we can figure out who it was, and if they are still on board... we're still at risk. And if something like that device goes off near the warp core, or the antimatter storage containers... we'd be dead in the water, at the very least."

The thought of another explosion closer to a critical system was enough to send a chill down Leo's spine. Space travel was risky enough without the added threat of malicious explosives. And the thought that the person who planted the device might still be walking among them, pretending to be their comrade while all the while working against them, was even worse. "If the perpetrator is still on board, they have to know that there is nowhere to run."

Having recomposed herself somewhat as she god up to steam with trying to deal with the situation analytically and in stages, rather than focussing on the emotions of it, Curtis straightened from where she had leant and turned to perch on the edge of her desk, facing Leo as she continued. "We're going to need to comb everyone's service records for any possible links to Terra Prime, and interview anyone who might be suspect. I don't exactly want to create distrust amongst the crew, but I don't see many other choices in front of us. Do you know how far the Andorians are with our MACOs?" She had been hesitant at having the specialist military personnel assigned to her ship in the first instance, but now she saw them almost as a godsend. With Dewitt gone, the MACO commander would be someone she could hopefully rely on to assist in ship security in the short term, and the troops were a ready group who hadn't been aboard when the device was planted that she could use to guard sensitive areas against any further possible sabotage.

"Sensors have them travelling at a standard cruising speed," Leo replied. "At that speed they'll reach us tomorrow."

"Let's hope they're curious as to our sudden stop and they pick up the speed," Curtis said.

Leo nodded in agreement, finding himself for the first time in his career wishing for the security of a MACO detachment. A moment of silence lingered in the ready room as Leo's thoughts turned to the other unexpected development. "Captain," he said as his turbulent thoughts coalesced into words, "I know that neither of us expected such a development and you probably have never even entertained the notion of me serving as your first officer - I know I had not. But I just wanted to let you know ... you can count on me, Capitano."

"Thank you - Commander." Curtis responded, with a slight pause in the middle. She thought it was important to use Leo's rank to let him know that she too felt that she could count on him to do what the rank implied. "Until our MACOs get here, you should take charge of the armoury officers and security. It might be a good idea to see if we can try to put together an access log of everyone who went into and out of the armoury since we left dock."

"Yes, Captain," the Acting First Officer replied. "I will take care of it immediately. Excuse me."

As Leo moved off to carry out his task, Christina took a deep breath, steeling herself for her own next task. She moved around her desk and lowered herself slowly into her desk chair, knowing that she should sit down for this, so that she didn't have to think about keeping her legs stable under herself. Reaching over to the comm. unit, she pressed the button that would connect her with the rest of the ship.

"All hands; this is the captain.

"I am certain that you have all noticed the rocking of the ship and our stop that came shortly after, and those of you who were not called to assist in the incident are likely wondering what happened." She paused again, trying to think of the right words to use. "There was an explosion of one of the components in the wall panels of the armoury. The explosion caused only minor damage to the ship, but I am deeply troubled to inform you that it resulted in the death of our first officer, Commander Cayne.

"I know that this is a hard thing to hear so early in our mission, and we will need to set aside some time later to properly mourn his passing. But I am afraid that I have some more disturbing news. We believe that the explosion was caused by a device that was deliberately put behind the wall panelling. There is a chance that whoever put it there could still be onboard. The safety of the crew is my top priority, and so we will be remaining where we are until we can determine that there are no other such devices on any of our systems. Security will be tight until we can either find the person who did this, or conclusively confirm that the device was placed before our departure from Earth. Some of you may be called in to be interviewed by myself and Commander Carpegiani. Do not feel as though we have singled you out if you are. We are simply making sure we leave no stone unturned in our search for the truth.

"I ask that you delay writing home about this until after our mission is complete, so that we can keep information of our mission compartmentalised. Any letters which are sent will be screened before determining if they can go on their way, or if they should be held back until a later date.

"I expect that we can count on the professionalism and cooperation of all of you through this difficult time. Curtis out."

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