A Line in the Sand: A Star Trek: The Edge of Midnight Fan Work

Since I had decided to remain on the Resolute while the Aurora was responding to the Orion’s distress call, I didn't actually have much to do at the moment. I had already decided what I was going to say to the colony, and my senior staff were handling their assignments well if the reports crossing my PADD were any indication, so I decided to make good on an idea I had earlier. After getting dressed I set out for my destination.

“Commander Foro, report to conference room three.” I spoke into the turbolift wall panel as it carried me towards my destination. Conference room three is one of the smaller ancillary rooms to the main conference room, usually used for crew evaluations and department meetings. I knew it would be unoccupied while the ship was at yellow alert. I took a seat at the head of the table and waited for my science officer to arrive.

“Sorry ma’am” A voice called as the door opened “I would have arrived faster if I had known you wanted to meet with me. I was trying to get a handle on that long term plan you had asked for and I had gone to the mess hall to get something to eat while I worked.” I cut her off before she could talk herself into a frenzy.

“And the mess hall is near the stern of the ship I know.” I spoke. “This isn't formal or anything Yamina, I just wanted to get your off the record impression of the colony, since you're the only one on board who was down on the surface with me.” This was a half-truth. I also wanted to make sure she wasn't feeling guilty for indulging in her love of botany on the surface, but that could wait. Though at the mention of the mess hall I felt my stomach twitch involuntarily. I hadn't eaten since breakfast, over eight hours ago. I resolved to swing by the mess hall after this.

“Oh,” she said flatly, and put down her PADD and sat at the table. “I thought, conference room three and all, I had done something wrong, and was making it worse by being late.”

“What?” was all I could say.

“Yes ma’am conference room 3 was Commander Bel Prakkt’s favorite for crew evaluations. I figured it was still going to be the same.” Her downcast eyes were so sad I actually laughed at the absurdity of the situation. I knew Commander Th’akat Bel Prakkt and was familiar with how much he enjoyed busting the balls of his staff during crew evaluations. It was how the man showed he cared.

“I am not some surly Tellarite performing crew evaluations, Yamina and you’ve certainly not done anything to warrant a negative one.” I laughed again. “This is just an informal chat with your Captain. I’m looking for input on the surface situation, despite what the legacy of this room might tell you.” I caught myself smiling. A bit of fun was exactly what I needed. I took in my science officer. Yamina Foro was young for her rank, having been promoted after Commodore Wesley had poached the Resolute’s senior staff earlier this year in an attempt to retain some continuity of command. Yamina was a Bolian, though her file showed she shared none of the religious proclivities of her fellow Bolian’s down on the colony. Always a bit anxious, she seemed unsure in her new position, but had more than enough credentials to justify holding it and I really hoped she was able to come into her own. Though I could tell she was still tense despite my reassurances, I decided to guide the conversation.

“What was your opinion on the state of the colony?” I asked, a neutral tone to my voice. I was hoping a couple easy questions would get her talking.

“Well ma’am, if I didn't know about the colony’s recent events I would have thought them a standard Federation colony. Well except for the religious part. I’m not a cultural anthropologist or anything and I certainly don't know much about ancient human religions. My people aren't particularly religious on the whole, so I am interested about what attracted them to split the effort for this colony. Would you like me to bring in Doctor Norman Captain? I’m sure they would be better able to answer any questions about that aspect of the colony.” She rattled off, barely taking a breath between each pause. I held up a hand to slow her.

“That's what I thought too, unless you knew what the Suliban situation was, you would have no idea.” I added. “Do you think that's intentional?”

“Ma’am?” A puzzled look crossed her face, and she leaned forward in her chair.

“Do you think they told us the truth of why the Suliban aren’t integrated into the rest of the colony?” I replied, in an attempt to clarify.

“Yes.” I was taken aback with the frankness of her answer and leaned in to match her. She continued. “They have no reason to lie. Religious cultures are often more selective about who they integrate, and it stands to reason that they chose to move out to the edges of Federation space to be on their own. Segregation may have been mutual, as the Suliban are a diaspora and the keeping of their culture and traditions where they settle has proven to be important to them. We already have examples of this from Starbase 10, Tandar, Kobax and even on Earth. While I abhor the conditions, the separations of the two groups may be both intentional and beneficial.” She smiled and I could tell she was pleased with this analysis.

“Well done, Commander.” I smiled as well. “So, if that's the case, what do we do?”

“Well, if both groups want to remain separate, let them. We can’t let the haves keep basic necessities from the have nots, so that needs to change, but why not recognize the Suliban as a separate entity and treat them as an equal in any negotiations. Show that they will receive a proportional amount of what we brought to aid the colony. Worst comes to worst, New Jerusalem will see that cooperation is in their best interest, if they want full access to the industrial replicators.” Here I was ready to go down there and try to convince the colony's administration into following Federation procedures, which they had already shown no interest in doing. This was a much better choice and a perfect example of why it was so necessary to surround a Captain with competent senior staff.

“Alright, I like this idea.” I replied. “Have you found anything on the Suliban leadership?”

“Unfortunately, most of the information we have comes from the colony, so I’m hesitant to present it as entirely accurate. Apparently, there are two, Vaanek and Sala. The colony records them as the two the Suliban elected to speak for them in dealing with the administration. Sorry Captain, I don't know much about Suliban politics, so I don't know if this translates into any authority. For all I know they could be just acting as mouthpieces for policies decided by others. There is another problem with using them as well. Vaanek is currently in the colony's prison.”

“On what charge?” I flicked on the table's display and called up the colony's police records. There were a lot, far more than I had predicted for a colony of this size. A cursory glance showed Suliban to be involved in a large number of the reports. My anger from before was coming back in force now. This reminded me of the classes on pre-warp Earth. Commander Foro quickly took control of the display and flipped to his record. Apparently, she had been ready for this.

“The official charges are rioting, conspiracy and sedition.” She read out from the display. Apparently, he was arrested last month as part of a roundup of what the document referred to as Suliban agitators. She continued. “Apparently this isn't the first time he's been arrested.” His status as a prisoner would cost me leverage in enacting our plan, I would need to make concessions to even bring him to the negotiating table. Even speaking to him would be hard, as I didn't have any authority over the colony outside of a time of war.

“Ok, let's consider him a nice to have, not a need to have then. What can you tell me about Sala?”

“Well Captain.” Her fingers danced over the table's controls and a small rotating hologram of who I assumed was Sala, alongside the colonial file appeared between us. I was immediately struck with how beautiful she was, even rendered as a tabletop hologram. Commander Foro continued.

“Her file is much smaller than Vaanek’s, mostly just records of her dealings with the colony. No arrests, no mention of any suspected involvement in any illegal activities or anything like that. File says she liaises between the colony’s educators and the Suliban population, maybe she's a teacher?” This was someone I could work with. I wanted both, but Sala's clean record would be useful. A plan was starting to form.

“Any thoughts on why either of them were chosen to represent the Suliban?” I asked her, leaning forward.

“Vaanek makes the most sense. He's a bit of a folk hero to this group.” She swiped the display with her finger, retrieving Vaanek’s profile again. “He’s fought the Klingons before. The colony’s records list him as uncooperative and defiant. I think if you read between the lines, that means that he cares deeply for and about his people.” She beamed at me, clearly proud of her analysis.

“And Sala?”

“She's harder to pin down.” She replaced Vaanek’s file on the display with Sala. “I had to comb through the colony’s logs to find some of this.” It took her a moment to bring up the file she was searching for. I drummed my fingers on the table while we waited.

“Many in the administration note their preference in dealing with her over Vaanek. Apparently she’s, and I’m using their words here, agreeable.” A look of disgust crossed her face.

“Something wrong Commander?” I asked, genuinely curious. She startled, evidently not realizing her face had given away her internal turmoil.

“Sorry ma’am, I just don't like some of the words or the tone they’re using to describe her here. They make her sound like a pushover. I don't know how much help she can be if these are true.” She was still frowning as she read the record. I called it up on my screen to see for myself. The logs agreed with Commander Foro’s assessment upon cursory reading. Words like agreeable, accommodating, complacent and willing dotted the log reports. However, I had a feeling Commander Foro thought there was more to it and I voiced that question to her.

“I do, Captain. We don't have much data on any Suliban that didn't grow up on Federation worlds and Sala is no exception. What we do know is that she's from Bregat, right at the heart of the Tandaran Polity. That was the epicenter of the Suliban population post the annexation of Ellec-vell and it's likely she saw it first hand. Again, if you’ll allow me to read between the lines a bit?”

“Absolutely Commander.” Her insights had been well reasoned so far, and I really did want to encourage her. Emboldened by my response she continued.

“Obviously there's something about her that made the Suliban choose her to represent them, but I think she's just beaten.” I felt like I was looking in a mirror. This type of mental exhaustion was something I was intimately familiar with, having seen it in others during the war, and if I was being honest, in myself still nearly three years later. There was a limit to the horror a person could witness, and it sounded to me like Sala had found her limit. I felt at that moment, even though we had never met and she was hundreds of kilometers away on the planet's surface, that I could hear her describe her exhaustion to me through the colony's logs. Unfortunately, despite her and admittedly my exhaustion, I needed the Suliban perspective so I could expose the truth of what had happened here. Vaanek and Sala would have to do.

“Excellent work Commander, I’m impressed you already had all of this ready to go. I just have one more question for you then.” I took a breath, wanting to be delicate here. “I noticed you were quite interested in flora down on the surface, can I ask why?”

“Captain?” She had a puzzled look on her face, but I continued.

“Yamina, I’m being genuine here, ignoring everything about the situation on the colony for a moment. I know you minored in Xeno botany, and I could certainly tell you were enraptured by the gardens. I came up in the operations track, my background is in security and tactical and my science grades were, well, not good. I want to know why their gardens were so interesting.” I leaned back in my chair and did my best to shove down the resurgent anger at the colony this conversation had generated and instead focus on what my officer had to say.

“Oh, well Captain, it's pretty simple in a way, but what they've achieved is, well, breathtaking.” I motioned for her to continue. “So, they seem to have built their different gardens around plants that have radically different needs, think UV light, soil pH, those kinds of things. None of these are easy to grow plants on their own either but combining them! That garden must take round the clock work, with all the testing and fine tuning that would be needed.” I let her carry on for a few minutes, only nodding at times to let her know I was still listening. She was talking well above my understanding of Xeno botany at points, even though I could tell she was doing her best to keep it at a level I could understand. Sometimes it is a good idea to let people talk about what matters to them, one of my old Captains had always said. Captain Zu’hallats advice had always been to make sure that your people know what's important to them is important to you and important to the ship. That way, no one was ever afraid to bring you a suggestion. I really missed him.

“...If all of this ends amicably, well Captain, I'd like to spend some time on the surface if I can, speaking with whoever is managing these gardens. Though there should probably be a more detailed study conducted by Starfleet specialists down the road.” She stopped speaking abruptly and her face went a deep shade of blue. “I’ve been talking this whole time, haven't I?” I couldn't help but belly laugh.

“Yamina it's fine, I asked you to go into detail, right? I wanted to know, and you’ve certainly explained it to me. I didn't want you to feel guilty or like you’d let me down by engaging with your interests down on the surface. It's bad down there, granted, but we are explorers, that's why we all joined and it's why we’re out here.” Her blush didn't fade, and she couldn't make eye contact with me. Something more was going on.

“You’re not mad at me for wasting your time?” Her voice was barely a whisper. The anger was back, what had happened to this poor woman. I stood up and moved to the seat next to her and she flinched away from me as I sat down before returning to picking at her nails under the table.

“Not at all, I’ve killed every plant I’ve ever owned and spent most of Xeno botany thinking about phaser handling drills and cute seniors.” This got a small laugh out of her at least. “I didn't know the names of most of those plants, let alone what made the arrangement special, and I wanted to. That's all.” I took hold of one of her hands to stop her from ruining the finish of her painted fingernails. “Is there something more going on here that you want to talk about?”

“Did you read my crew evaluations?” She still wouldn't look at me and her voice had gone so soft. There was nothing of the confident woman who minutes ago had been briefing me on local politics and telling me about the challenges of growing Rigellian sand lilies in a pH above 3.

“No.” I replied and that got her to turn her head to look at me finally. “Obviously I read the general parts. Citations, qualifications, disciplinary actions and expertise.” I squeezed her hand as I said expertise to emphasize it. I continued. “A big part of command is giving everyone the benefit of the doubt and letting a new crew make a good first impression with a new Captain. There's nothing I can do about how a previous officer felt about one of my crew, who liked or disliked who or any of that and frankly it doesn't matter. If it doesn't warrant a disciplinary action, then I don't care. There's no way I could know all the circumstances or personalities involved. So, I don't worry about it.” This seemed to get her to relax at least.

“I have been reprimanded in the past.” She started, before taking a moment to collect herself. I squeezed her hand again to let her know it was safe to keep going “For providing too much extraneous information and I need to work on being more concise.” She repeated that robotically, like she was reading directly from her file. If Bel Prakkt had done this to her, we were going to have words after this mission. The man could be downright mean sometimes, but I had always seen the good natured fun behind it. Clearly not everyone did. She continued. “I was worried, because this is the first time I had actually had a one on one conversation with you, that I had ruined my first impression and was letting you down by showing I wasn't trying to improve.”

“You haven't let me down at all. Like I said, I wanted to learn. Though, is this something you’d like to work on?” I asked.

“I feel like such an idiot after I do it!” The volume was back in her voice, but none of the confidence had returned. “I always leave briefings feeling like I wasted everyone's time and did not contribute anything!” This explained why she had barely spoken during the earlier staff briefing. She had clearly been concerned with embarrassing herself.

“I don't think any of the senior staff think you're an idiot, and if they do, they can keep it to themselves. You earned your rank, and I accepted your recommendation for the position. That means you're good enough for me, which means you're good enough for the ship.” I smiled at her and squeezed her hand again. “Would you like to work on this?” she nodded. “Alright, so if I do this.” I placed two of my fingers with the tips touching the table forming a delta. “Then that's me telling you to take a second, take a couple breaths and think about what you're saying. Does that sound like it could work?” This was an old trick our class in the Academy used, though more for things like someone is coming, get your pants on or here comes the instructors and they look pissed, but I figured I could repurpose it for a little confidence building with my science officer

“I think so, Captain.”

“Great!” I smiled again. “I’ll also take care of your evaluations for the next couple months, since I don't want you to feel embarrassed about involving Commander Fane in our plan.” She nodded. “Alright, you're only on duty for what, two more hours or so. This has been an exciting day for all of us, so I’m going to leave this up to you ok. Do you want to keep working on that long term plan I asked for or do you want to take a break? I can let you off duty early since I clearly already interrupted you getting something to eat if you’d like that?”

“I still want to work on what you asked for, Captain!” She had turned to look at me again.

“Sounds like a plan then, you can have detached duty until your next shift tomorrow. That way your only responsibility is the long term support plan for the Suliban. Captain's orders, but please take some time for yourself too, this has been a hell of a day.” Here I was echoing Cserr’s advice from earlier that I wasn't about to take either. Oh well, do what I say not as I do was the captain’s prerogative. Now wasn't the time to dwell on my own personal failing though. I patted her on the back, and she stood up to leave.

“Thank you for listening, Captain and thank you for not making me feel bad about it.” I could see the faint glistening of tears in the corners of her eyes. She picked up the PADD she had been carrying when she entered and dashed out the room before I could say anything more. Once again, I found myself staring at my reflection in a screen, this time the wall systems display screen. My brow was furrowed, and my antennae were flitting back and forth with annoyance. This poor girl, at least I found out why she seemed so anxious all the time. I resolved to keep an ear to the ground, see if anyone was saying anything disparaging about here so I could quash it immediately. The comm panel on the walls chirp snapped me out of my reverie.

“Go for the Captain.” I said, activating the toggle.

“Ma’am, we’ve just received a message from the Aurora.” It was Lieutenant Whitman, standing watch on the bridge. “The Orion freighter is badly damaged. They are evacuating casualties to the Aurora and have repair teams assisting but they are unsure if the fault will be resolvable.”

“Anything on long range sensors Lieutenant?” I responded.

“No ma’am, though Commander Gronnahk has routed auxiliary power to them just in case.” Good that means he had pre-empted my next order.

“I will join you on the bridge shortly, I don't like this.” I flipped the panel off and made for the door.

The bridge was a hive of activity when the turbolift door opened. The security officer called the bridge to attention as I entered, and I exchanged chairs with Lieutenant Whitman. I quickly flicked through the displays in my chair for an at a glance status update on the ship. Most of our senior officers alongside our medical and security staff were planet side and we were very vulnerable. The viewscreen displayed a snapshot of our long range sensor data and the screen itself was filled with the Aurora alongside two smaller Orion freighters. At least they actually were freighters I thought to myself. I was just settling when my communications officer spoke

“Ma’am priority one message from the Aurora.” I could hear the worry in his voice. I waved my hand to let him know to put it through. My longtime friend's face filled the viewscreen flanked by her bridge officers. Cserr spoke.

“Captain, we have a problem. Listen to this.” She turned a small dial on her chair and the audio feed from her ship was replaced by another.

“...Repeat, this is Captain Klaugh of the IKS Tlhab responding to your distress call, we are two hours outbound. Orion freighter, this is Captain Klaugh…” Cserr cut off the message, her voice coming through again.

“Our long range sensors confirm that they are inbound. They should appear on yours momentarily. We ran the name against Starfleet's IFF system, and it isn't good, the Tlhab is a D-7. I don't know what they're doing out this far, or why we haven't picked up any D-5 escorts or anything, but that ship is a problem.” That was an understatement.

“Confirmation Captain.” Lieutenant Whitman called out from her station. “A D-7 is entering our sensor range, it's on an intercept course with the Aurora.”

“Red alert, all hands to battle stations.” I shouted, a knot forming in my stomach. That ship carried enough firepower to glass the entire colony or carry off all the Suliban and there wasn't a damn thing either of our outdated ships could do to stop it.

The bridge came alive at my words. Junior officers rushed back and forth, security officers handing out hand phasers from the wall lockers and the clicks and whirs of the ships defensive systems coming to life. I took a moment to center myself in the chaos of it all, a bastion of calm at the eye of the storm. My chair felt profoundly uncomfortable and all the activity on the bridge was making it too hot to think. At least the red of the alert lights added a familiar severity to the bridge, thrumming in time with what felt like my heartbeat. Times like this were when officers like me had been at our most busy and I was no stranger to danger. This at least was more familiar, more controlled, than colonial politics or my own brooding. Taking a breath, I called up the systems display in the arm of my chair and noted the phaser control rooms and torpedo armories report ready. Just shy of fifteen seconds, a good time, but I would want to get it closer to twelve if we wanted to survive this. Lieutenant Whitman called out the same report a moment after, confirming my readout with the crew's manual check ins. The Nimitz class would have been considered well-armed and well protected fifteen years ago, but now like all the Eaves-Beyer drive ships, the Resolute’s warp core couldn’t provide the power needed to go toe to toe with the newer Klingon ships, which this was. D-7’s were top of the line, recently launched and able to stand in a fight with Constitution class. Outrageously fast and as maneuverable as a destroyer, it would be able to glide through our ships' ponderous phaser arcs and pick us apart. Caleb IV had been the death knell for Eaves-Beyer ships as line combat ships. All of that being true, I wasn't going to give up however, even if a direct shooting conflict was out of the question.

“Get me Starbase 19.” I commanded. “Contact CnC and inform them of what happened here. Also request support from our nearest DESRON.” Starbase 19 was the center of operations for the entirety of KLICOM and the home base for both the 2nd and 4th fleets, to whom both we and the Aurora belonged. It was still 3 days away via subspace communications, but keeping an open channel with them would at least provide Starfleet a recording of what had happened here. I hoped that some of our patrol groups would be listening and one of the fast destroyer squadrons, or DESRON would be nearby. A pair of fast Detroyat’s or a flight of Saladins would do a great deal to turn the odds in our favor. Once I received the affirmative from my communication officer, I thumbed the comm terminal on my chair.

“All hands, this is the captain speaking.” The crew on the bridge stopped and turned while I spoke. I couldn't blame them. I continued.

“At 17:47 hours we detected a single Klingon D-7 moving at high warp along an intercept course that will bring it into weapons range in two hours. You all remember what happened at Caleb IV, we cannot defeat them in a contest of arms. We also have a duty to the people of that colony, especially to the thirty thousand Suliban that the Klingons would surely like to take as slaves. I have requested Starfleet send us reinforcements, but that will take time. That means we are on our own. Trust yourselves, trust the shipmate next to you, do your duty and we will prevail.” I closed the link. Not my best speech, and certainly not the most inspiring, but I had no interest in downplaying the severity of the situation we were in. I thumbed the switch again.

“Science officer, chief engineer, report to the bridge.” With that I stood up from my chair and made my way to the weapons lockup in the auxiliary CiC. I pulled a phaser belt out, a match for the one I had worn only a few hours ago, but again decided to forgo body armor. Maybe the Klingons would see my unarmored gold uniform as a show of defiance and see that I was unafraid of open conflict with them. Now armed I retook my chair and took another moment to double check the status reports on my chair, my stomach protesting again. How would I get anything to eat now? I pushed hunger out of my mind, hopefully I would just be too busy to notice. Well, everything was as ready as it could be, so I couldn't put this off any more.

“Lieutenant, could you please hail the colony, I’ll need to advise them of how the situation has changed.”

“Yes ma’am” He replied and shortly Administrator Rator’s face filled the screen.

“Captain, I must protest about your security personnel dismantling our infrastructure and forcing our local forces to stand down.” They whined, clearly the colony had no idea what had happened. I put up a hand.

“Administrator, I promise you we will discuss everything at a later time. However, an immediate problem has arisen. A Klingon D-7 is making for the border as we speak. Apparently to render aid to a stricken Orion freighter, but this is a very delicate and very tense situation. I require the colony’s full cooperation please, so that we can safeguard as many lives as we can.”

“No doubt the presence of two Federation ships has provoked them.” They cut me off before I could continue. “You could have just left your supplies and gone, but instead you lingered and meddled with our colony and that angered the Klingons. We haven't had any problems with them, and they have no interest in us.” I turned their last few words over in my mind. No interest in us, well except for the thirty thousand Suliban that the Empire considered its property. Unless they had meant it honestly and did not see the Suliban as part of the colony or worth protecting. It certainly fits.

“What about the Suliban Administrator?” The color drained from their face, I was right.

“Well, they have no reason to know that they're here, and one ship certainly couldn't take thirty thousand people, right? If the Klingons wanted them, why not show up with an invasion fleet?” They sputtered this answer out, clearly reaching. An invasion fleet would be met by Starfleet and could escalate into full blown war across the quadrant. I was livid and stood up in a rush out of my chair.

“Administrator Rator, I called to advise you of the situation, not listen to you act put upon by your responsibilities. Have your people, including the Suliban, move to any emergency shelters you have and activate any militia or peacekeeping units. They will report directly to my people on the ground. Do not stray far from a comm terminal Administrator, I will be contacting you again shortly. End transmission.” The screen winked out and I breathed in again to calm myself. I started to pace.

“I need to talk to Commander Fane right now.” I hissed.

“Captain, I have him already.” Replied my communications officer. I was pleased, he had pre-empted my needs again. Commander Marcus Fanes dark skinned face filled the screen.

“I take it something has happened Captain?” he greeted me, his voice even. I forced myself to stop pacing now that I had somewhere to focus, but I could tell, my frustration at the colony was going to need to be directed somewhere soon.

“There's a D-7 inbound, two hours at the most Marcus.” I replied flatly as to not betray the irritation boiling behind my eyes. He had done nothing to warrant being on the receiving end of it. “I’ve informed the colony and told Rator to get everyone down there into whatever emergency shelters they have. Though I expect problems with the administration and the Suliban. Can I count on you to step in and take over if it looks like the Suliban aren't being protected?”

“Of course, Captain.”

“I don't care what regulation, or justification or whatever you have to use to take control of the situation.” I continued, barely acknowledging his reply. “Just do it, I won't let anything happen to these people if we can prevent it.”

“Yes Captain,” A bemused look crossed his face before he continued “Would you like anyone to return to the Resolute in the meantime?” I took a moment to think about this question. In all likelihood it was safer to remain planet side, but I knew a lot of those down there, especially Fane and Risi, would be angry if they were stuck planet side if a fight broke out in orbit.

“Let's say no for now Commander, we’ll need everyone down there to help secure the colony. Let's regroup on this in say an hour and half and see if anything has changed.” An olive branch at least. I wasn't going to discuss our survival chances in public on the bridge, and Marcus knew it.

“Sounds like a plan, Captain.” He smiled, his normally jovial nature returning. “I imagine you have a few calls to make, but when you're done could I steal Lieutenant Grolik to coordinate operations down here?” I turned my head to look at my communications officer.

“Yes Ma’am.” He replied, without missing a beat. “I can take care of that.” I nodded before returning my eyes to the main viewscreen.

“Sounds like he's good for it.” I replied, a smile creeping into my voice. This I liked, when the crew ran like a well-oiled machine and rose to any challenge. “Let me know if anyone gives you any trouble down there Number One, Resolute out.” I heard the woosh of a turbolift door and turned my head. Commanders Foro and Glov Gronnahk entered the bridge, and I motioned for them to join me at ops. Them plus Lieutenant Whitman constituted my senior staff at the moment, and I needed options.

“Alright,” I said after gathering them into a small huddle around Lieutenant Whitman's display, my voice almost conspiratorially low. “How do we beat a D-7?” Glov Gronnahk spoke up first.

“Hah! We don't, you saw what happened at Caleb IV. To the Molly Cobb, the Segei Nikolov, the Gordo Stevens...” I raised a hand to cut him off. The older Starfleet ships had been routed by the technologically superior Klingon armada, demonstrating with all finality the issues with the Eaves-Beyers ships. I had viewed the combat footage from that battle many times and right now I didn't need Tellarite fatalism. Though I did find his choice of examples interesting. The three Shepard class ships had turned back to engage the entire Klingon fleet to buy time for the Federation reinforcements. Their losses had allowed Captain Mendez of the Excalibur and his column to reach Caleb IV and no doubt save many lives. Was the old Tellarite trying to tell me something here? That would have to wait, I had orders to issue.

“Look, I know our warp core isn't cut out for a firefight. I’m asking how we beat it despite that. All options on the table. Electronic warfare options, planetary gravity wells, comet dust trails. Anything. I also want options for how we protect the planet. This supersedes anything else, and I want everything, I don't care how far fetched it seems, in the conference room in an hour and half.” I paused for a moment, looking each of them in the eyes. Glov Gronnahk’s were unreadable. I knew the man had seen some of the worst that a Starfleet career could throw at someone and even though he would fight and argue the whole way he would find something. The other two were much more readable. Though both had served during the war, they were younger and lacked the confidence of a grizzled veteran like Glov Gronnahk. I knew Yamina doubted her abilities already, and Sally, though proficient, was going to need a bit of encouragement. I continued.

“I know I’m asking a lot alright, and not giving you much time to work with. That's why I want everything. We can hammer out the details as we go, but I’m going to need options first.” I tried to adopt a reassuring tone, though from the looks on their faces, I wasn't doing my best. This sort of motivational command had never been my forte, my strengths lay in more hands on leadership, or so my Academy reports had said. I still didn't know what they meant by that, all these years later. Honestly, I just considered it another checkbox on why I wouldn't be a Captain if not for the war. Well, shoulds and shouldn'ts have a way of evaporating when you’re staring down Klingon disruptors and I could just push this down into that little box labeled failures where I kept everything else that made me unworthy of the center chair.

“I know you can do it. At the end of the day, there is only one ship.” I continued. “Klingons respect shows of strength. Help me show them our strength, and we’ll all make it home. I’ll let you get to work.” With that I stood up from the console and walked back to my center chair.

One quick scan of my chair display showed the status of the ship was unchanged. As far as systems were concerned, we were ready, but I still felt it wasn't going to be enough. My stomach clenched again, and I frowned. The warmer environments preferred by the rest of the crew caused Andorian metabolism to run hotter and I already needed more calories to keep up with the heat. I cursed inwardly. During my survival course at the Academy, I had gone the entire two weeks without eating, both as a personal test and a misguided attempt to earn the top grade. I used to be able to go days without eating, but now a few hours between meals living at human temperatures was causing my stomach to growl like a grinding glacier. Maybe it was age, or I was getting soft after being out of security for so long. Another thing to check with the doctor about once this was all over. Well, I had time, even if they were interested in talking, the D-7 was out of communications range for around another forty minutes or so. I could get something to eat, though I needed a better excuse to leave the bridge than I was hungry.

“Mx Phillips, I need you to take the Conn for a few minutes.” I said alerting our ship's Navigator. They turned in their chair to face me and I continued. “I’m going to prepare a data packet to transmit to KLINCOM, I shouldn't be too long.” They nodded and joined me at the central chair. Lieutenant ND Phillips was another young officer added to the Resolute’s crew when I took command. This very well could have been the first time they had taken the center chair. I thought back to Cserr reminding me of my first time standing watch as a Lieutenant junior grade. I had been a panicky mess and it had been a standard duty watch. This was as much a crisis as any, but as I exchanged places with them in the chair, I leaned in so that only they could hear what I was going to say next.

“Don't worry, I won't be gone long, anything changes, no matter how small, you call me alright? I don't want you to feel like everything’s on you.” I patted them on the shoulder, and they nodded.

“Yes ma’am.” They replied and I could hear the nervous timbre of their voice. I smiled my most convincing smile.

“You’ll do fine.” I added, and with that I strode off the bridge.