Setting Up Shop

Posted on Sun May 28th, 2023 @ 5:35am by Captain M'Mira & Lieutenant JG Tomer Chaim & Lieutenant Tristian Hudson & Lieutenant JG Kara Quinn-Chaim
Edited on on Thu Jun 1st, 2023 @ 12:46am

2,312 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: Mission 4 - Like a Thunderbolt
Location: Briefing Room
Timeline: MD 03 0800

M'Mira was not sure if she was pleased or displeased with her Yeoman letting her sleep. Certainly all the time getting from the planetary station to this skeletal station was exhausting but there was work to be done and she'd be damned if she did not help get ops running on this station. Apparently, however, according to her yeoman, that was not something a commander should worry about.

Nonetheless, her yeoman, whatever her name might be, had set up this meeting for all the Chiefs and Assistant Chiefs of Staff so that everyone could coordinate their best efforts on the station and give status reports on their various departments. Lazily, she reclined in her chair at the head of the table, allowing her tail to swing freely over a side.

Patiently, the refreshed commander waited for her staff to arrive.

Koz was busy wiping a stain off her hands as she wandered through to the Briefing Room. She fished out her PADD from where she had wedged it between her arm and side and flashed a smile at the Captain and waved with the rag in her hand. 'Nice nap Captain?'

"Nap? Who said anything about a nap?!" M'Mira asked while trying to size up the new Chief Operations Officer. She was pretty sure she remembered her checking in but could not be sure. "Looks like you have been busy. What did you just finish?"

'You're Yeoman,' replied Koz with a twinkle in her eye. She shrugged as she shoved the cloth through her belt. It might take a bit to get this stain off. 'Not fixed anything yet. We were just crawling through some Jeffries tubes down near Engineering. The couplings are filthy.'

"My yeoman did?" M'Mira replied with a hiss. "As to the stain, nothing wrrrong with it. If Starrrfleet can't handle a stain when we'rrre finishing what they should have done, then they will have another thing coming...."

The Trill laughed in response, 'the dirt doesn't bother. We were assessing the couplings for their viability - some will need replacing before we can move on to the next stage. Operations teams are already on it!'

"Defective couplings already?" M'Mira asked with a snarl and a growling undertone. "How bad are things? I am morrre than willing to get my paws and claws dirrrty...." She paused meaningfully and straightened up. The snarl turned to a grin. "It was MY department before yours, in case you did not know."

'That might be necessary down the line,' Koz said from her seat. 'The power couplings aren't defective, but they haven't been maintained properly for a little while. It all builds up.'

"This is what happens when you let Starrrfleet engineerrrs handle things," she growled. "This is a new station. Therrre should not be these prrroblems!"

Kara arrived at the briefing next just ahead of husband Tomer. “Good morning everyone.” She smiled warmly.

Tomer placed his hand warmly onto Kara's thigh and gave it a squeeze. He was still disconcerted over his wife carrying the doctor's children but he knew that his wife was the most generous person he knew. Yet, he could not help but think that this was his wife and his womb for children. Perhaps it was barbaric or possessive but the feelings were still there.

Kara offered a warm smile, she could feel Tomer was concerned and she couldn’t really blame him.

Lt Sorben joined the gang and found a neutral spot in the middle of . Being a JAG was efficient and necessary but there were times Sorben considered other prospects.

Chief Hudson had entered dressed in casual shorts and tee-shirt, with his white lab coat on. He had been in the infirmary extruding metallic shrapnel manually from a woman's chest. Multiple lacerations and internal bleeding, as the patient had stabilized into an induced coma, Hudson had the time to check in on a group meeting.

Taking a drink from his mug of coffee. He was flashed with horrors of Grace, his wife still in her coma. Luckily, Grace was returning to him. He lent his eyes only to the table for the moment in thought.

M'Mira's eyes slid over to Hudson. She blinked at him once, then a second time, her eyes widening each time trying to convey the level of pain that she shared for his wife's condition. Perhaps it was a grand thing that she had yet to find a mate. Softly she asked, "And how is she? IF you need the time...."

Hudson had nodded to M'Mira. He lent a smile and could feel her warmth, her empathy. All he wanted was to have this over, and so did everyone else. "Grace is.... Grace is doing." Hudson looked at everyone. "I'm sorry, Commander. You have nothing to worry over." Hudson did his best, as Grace lay there on the biobed. She was still in her Coma, he had done all he could. Now, it was up to her. He waited, but he did his best. Sickbay was managing as it could currently.

The Commander knew that Tristan was putting on a brave face in a difficult situation. She simply nodded and said, "Perrrhaps I will stop by...." She let the sentence drawl before continuing, "But hopefully now we can get to business."

“I’ll drop into Sickbay later” Kara offered a warm smile, “Perhaps being close to your children will help Grace to wake up.”

Hudson let his head lilt aside slowly as if admiring them within Kara. He lent a smile. "Grac-" He paused, embarrassed for a moment. "I would like that very much. Thank you, Kara." Hudson's eyes searched the twins she was carrying. The product of both Grace and Tristian, alive, living, growing... It was an awkward situation but a chance at life, and by Lord's grace, by Grace's grace, it would come to pass that she would be their mother once more.

"We have a space station," M'Mira replied. "We'rrre missing people. A numberrr are prrresumed dead. We cannot prrrove it, but I suspect the Falteans arrre rrresponsible. Forrr now, we need to build this infrrrastructure and get this place operrrational. I need to know everyone's statuses and what you need from me. Rrreporrrt now, please. Who wants to go firrrst?"

Tristian was one of the first. He cleared his throat, not wanting to be seen as non-functioning, especially since Grace was in her coma. He felt every day he was losing a bit of her.

“Commander, Ma’am.” Tristian had reached for his silver mug of coffee, taking a drink, swallowing, and then scrolling through his padd of medical injuries and any ongoing medical concerns.

“So far, Sickbay has seen 14 seriously injured station personnel. Two are undergoing cardiac re-stasis therapy to make a full recovery. As for the 12 injuries, your classic station shrapnel, debris, and fumes.” He furrowed a brow. “As Medical, my concern at this point would be maintaining the power supply to sickbay computers, paramount.” Hudson then set down the padd.

“Decks 02 and 03 have complained of toxic smelling fumes. However, this is still being handled now. We might need to begin a temporary evacuation of deck 02 and 03 at least for sleeping, for the time.” Hudson had lent a glint of a smile, hope. Happiness that he had such good friends crew around him.

“For now, Commander, this is what I have to report.” The Chief had relaxed back in his chair, awaiting any questions or comments in the team meeting.

"Thank you, Doctorrr. Are yourrr medical supplies sufficient? Staff?" she asked concerned.

"We have sustainable supplies. Thank you Commander M'Mira, you're concerns are noted. Medical staff on the station are resilient and we have rebounded." Medical assured.

"Who is next?" M'Mira asked to her Chiefs.

Kara looked towards M’Mira. “Captain, the counselling department are helping around the station as best as we can. Doing our best to help people settle here. I’m also helping with patients in Sickbay when I have time available. On a personal level I volunteered to be a surrogate for Grace Hudson’s twins until such time as she’s able to carry them again.”

"How arrre people and crrrew handling the numerrrous losses of perrrsonnel frrrom the attack? Arrre they going to be fit forrrr an emerrrgency, if we have anotherrrr?" the Caitian asked.

Kara paused. “To be honest people are trying to settle, I think they’d struggle if they had to face another emergency so soon. As for the crew they would do their jobs, it’s what they’re trained to do."

"But can they cope? They may be able to handle the emerrrgency, but at what cost?" M'Mira worried.

From the transport that brought him in, Roman was directed to a conference room where, he was told, the station commander was holding a briefing of her senior staff. He fully intended to know this station as well as he knew the contours of his own body but for now, he relied on directions supplied by helpful crew members. He entered the room and paused, out of range of the door sensors, as his gray gaze swept the room and finally landing on the highest-ranking individual.

At 6'4", he wasn't someone folks overlooked. Broad-shouldered and well muscled, he looked exactly like what he was. A warrior born and bred on the streets of Turkana IV. He wore his black hair at shoulder-length, generally tied back when he was on duty, and his uniform was neat. Presentable but not overly perfect either.

When she noticed him, he spoke up. His voice was deep, somewhat raspy, and without accent. Federation Standard had been his mother tongue. The pidgin dialect of the street on Turkana IV, well, that he'd picked up elsewhere. "Forgive the intrusion, Commander," he said. "Lieutenant Hayes reporting as ordered."

M'Mira looked over the newcomer, her tail swishing around her curiously. If she was interested in humans in the least, she might think that he was ruggedly handsome. Yet, there was something about him that was not human. She could not place why that was the case, but she knew it to be true. He must have been one of the many new replacements coming after the disaster on Faltan. "Securrrity, rrright? Well, Lieutenant, thank you forrr coming. Lieutenant Chaim can brrrief you more afterrr this meeting. Let me give brrrief intrrroductions, however." She pointed her right open paw at Tomer and said, "Lieutenant Chaim." She then moved her paw to the woman next to him, "His wife, Lieutenant Quinn-Chaim, Chief Counselorrr." She then pointed at the doctor and said, "Lieutenant Hudson, our Chief Medical Officerrrr."

Roman nodded his answer to her question. There wasn't time for more than that since she was moving onto introductions. He nodded politely to each in turn, memorizing their faces, as the beginnings of a schedule formed in his mind. Hudson first, he thought, to get the preliminaries over with and because the conversation with Chaim would take much longer. Because he was now in charge of security for the station, he took a seat at the table and settled back to listen.

Hudson nodded at the Chief of Security for the station. Faltan Station needed a good security officer, and the man had looked the part. Hudson judged his age, weight, and approximate weight load he could carry, not to mention he looked self-assured. This was all good news. They needed good information to have security and stop the terrorist bloodshed that had overtaken the colony and now the station. He would prepare and send the officer a notice of medical updates for his records. For now, it was for the conference as Tristian had taped into his padd some reminders and orders. Taking a drink from his mug he was okay with sitting and listening to what the Security Officer would have to say in time.

Tomer reported, "Commander, the station is functional and people are settling in. There are no problems to report with people but the defenses of this stations are only partially operational. So once the Federation ships leave, we need to have our defense systems up, or we are going to have problems. Also, we have no idea what that biological contaminant was but we do know that if gets back up here, that it is highly contagious and that we will be cleaning people off the walls in bio suits. We need medical to isolate the contaminants and make certain that whatever it is cannot get here."

M'Mira nodded tiredly. "Doctor, do you have any more leads on that?"

Hudson agreed with Tomer. “Captain. As for leads, not on the station. The station’s bio buffers can analyze thousands of pathogens, even emerging patterns. We can isolate ones particularly suspect of engineered origins. I am not concerned with the pathogen being identifiable, moreover that I am concerned with the pathogen being deliberately released on the station here."

Tristian clasped his hands calmly. “It might be better to safeguard the station if I could take a runabout down to the planet. Take samples and then work a vaccine against the pathogen; we would be in a much more secure position here on the station if a pathogen were to be intentionally released.” Tristian offered.

"We are not welcome therrre," M'Mira responded hastily. "But, I agrrree that some studying is necessarrry. Therrre has to have been a way that it was sneaked into ourrr station on the planet. Would it be possible to search the DNA of those we lost to see if we can extrrract some of whateverrr caused the bodily explosions?" M'Mira wondered aloud. "Doctorrr, I want you to look into that. In the meantime, hopefully we will learrrn of morrrre surrrviorrrs and will get morrre staff to get this new starrrbase up and rrrunning. Dismissed."

 

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