((Please use this forum to impart your character’s activities, thoughts, and traumas after the recent events at Outpost Argo revolving around the assassination attempt of President Okeg. I know Mea had some doctor things, and Vahkur was scanning every liberated borg he saw… Tell us about it! ))
The day of President Okeg's fateful visit to Outpost Argo was also serendipitously Meashka's first day back on the station since the tragic destruction of the U.S.S. Rowling. The Liaison to Colonial Command had arrived long before the vast majority of her staff or support ships; she'd not even had the time to confer with Commodore Ashworth about her new position on Argo, set up a Colonial Command office, or even arrange proper quarters.
Despite how exhausted and emotionally raw she still felt, as a member of the Outpost's senior staff and diplomatic corp, she donned her new dress uniform and made her way out to meet what she assumed would be some visiting dignitary or another. Obviously, having just arrived, she'd not had the opportunity to sit in on any briefings. So Meashka was just as surprised as everyone else to find that her assumption had in fact been correct; it was a visiting dignitary, though not just any visit dignitary!
While the President spoke, Meashka -- always career-minded, was already considering how to introduce herself to the Saurian when he finished speaking. A kind word from the Federation President could go a long way to securing that flag position she'd always wanted. But at the same time, the thought wearied her. Playing politics felt so senseless. But then, why else was she on Argo? She debated asking the President if she could convince him to say a few kind words about her fallen crew members the next time he spoke publically. It was the least she could do for all those she'd lost, and would mean the world to their families...
When Ensign Muire leapt forward, Meashka was startled. She'd simply not been expecting it, and found herself ashamed that her reflexes were so slow. But she was only caught unawares momentarily; command training quickly took over. Without any staff or ships of her own, there was only one thing Meashka could do; act on her training, that of an engineer and a physician. Seeing that security had tended to the President; she called for a medkit and started treating the Ensign Muire. Rex hoisted her off to a secured room and Meashka followed. There she discovered that Muire's Borg implants were being manipulated by outside radiation, which turned out to be from the Klingon ship docked at the Outpost's shipyard. Information which proved invaluable to the away team.
Given her medical and technological background, Meashka seemed an ideal fit to continue investigating exactly what happened to the Borg implants and how the Klingons were able to manipulate them so once all the dust had settled. Seeing as that her ships and staff weren't scheduled to arrive for another week, she certainly had the time.
The first twenty hours was spent determining the exact nature of the carrier wave the Klingons used, and exactly how it interacted with biotechnology to manipulate synaptic pathways. Armed with that information, Meashka and the medical staff of Outpost Argo were able to narrow down all those various biotechnologies that might be at risk; any and all Borg implants, neural-plasticine prosthetics, restorative steroid nanites, or any biological implant that operated in a power signature frequency range of 1.8ghz to 2.6ghz.
This would include any adapted Borg ship technology, and most forms of bio-neural circuitry used by the Federation. Meashka alerted OPS to the fact that fleet ships may have been at risk as soon as that information came to light. Working with engineering teams, she'd help set up experiments to determine if that carrier wave could have been used to transmit sensitive data from affected bio-neural gel packs, or infect key adapted Borg systems with viruses.
Using that knowledge, the Outpost's medical staff could begin testing and treating all those with such implants for signs of synaptic manipulation consistent with those displayed by Ensign Muire. Anyone displaying said symptoms would be relieved from duty and confined to quarters under Starfleet Medical Standard Quarantine Procedure XO-998-2 Alpha. While the other physicians then began developing treatments to correct the manipulation in those exposed, Meashka began exploring the possibility of using reprogrammed Borg nanites to alter affected individuals, implants, and systems. She hoped to tweak them so as to emit encompass themselves with a very small, low-level dampening field, to prevent similar attacks from functioning in the future.
Despite the all-too-recent trauma of the Rowling's destruction, Meashka felt almost glad to have something so intense to focus upon. It was curiously therapeutic for her, and though the task was challenging, she didn't seem to mind. And if anything, it reminded her how much she enjoyed practicing medicine and working hands-on. She resolved to continue working a spare shift each week in the Outpost Infirmary after the Colonial Command office was established.
Despite how exhausted and emotionally raw she still felt, as a member of the Outpost's senior staff and diplomatic corp, she donned her new dress uniform and made her way out to meet what she assumed would be some visiting dignitary or another. Obviously, having just arrived, she'd not had the opportunity to sit in on any briefings. So Meashka was just as surprised as everyone else to find that her assumption had in fact been correct; it was a visiting dignitary, though not just any visit dignitary!
While the President spoke, Meashka -- always career-minded, was already considering how to introduce herself to the Saurian when he finished speaking. A kind word from the Federation President could go a long way to securing that flag position she'd always wanted. But at the same time, the thought wearied her. Playing politics felt so senseless. But then, why else was she on Argo? She debated asking the President if she could convince him to say a few kind words about her fallen crew members the next time he spoke publically. It was the least she could do for all those she'd lost, and would mean the world to their families...
When Ensign Muire leapt forward, Meashka was startled. She'd simply not been expecting it, and found herself ashamed that her reflexes were so slow. But she was only caught unawares momentarily; command training quickly took over. Without any staff or ships of her own, there was only one thing Meashka could do; act on her training, that of an engineer and a physician. Seeing that security had tended to the President; she called for a medkit and started treating the Ensign Muire. Rex hoisted her off to a secured room and Meashka followed. There she discovered that Muire's Borg implants were being manipulated by outside radiation, which turned out to be from the Klingon ship docked at the Outpost's shipyard. Information which proved invaluable to the away team.
Given her medical and technological background, Meashka seemed an ideal fit to continue investigating exactly what happened to the Borg implants and how the Klingons were able to manipulate them so once all the dust had settled. Seeing as that her ships and staff weren't scheduled to arrive for another week, she certainly had the time.
The first twenty hours was spent determining the exact nature of the carrier wave the Klingons used, and exactly how it interacted with biotechnology to manipulate synaptic pathways. Armed with that information, Meashka and the medical staff of Outpost Argo were able to narrow down all those various biotechnologies that might be at risk; any and all Borg implants, neural-plasticine prosthetics, restorative steroid nanites, or any biological implant that operated in a power signature frequency range of 1.8ghz to 2.6ghz.
This would include any adapted Borg ship technology, and most forms of bio-neural circuitry used by the Federation. Meashka alerted OPS to the fact that fleet ships may have been at risk as soon as that information came to light. Working with engineering teams, she'd help set up experiments to determine if that carrier wave could have been used to transmit sensitive data from affected bio-neural gel packs, or infect key adapted Borg systems with viruses.
Using that knowledge, the Outpost's medical staff could begin testing and treating all those with such implants for signs of synaptic manipulation consistent with those displayed by Ensign Muire. Anyone displaying said symptoms would be relieved from duty and confined to quarters under Starfleet Medical Standard Quarantine Procedure XO-998-2 Alpha. While the other physicians then began developing treatments to correct the manipulation in those exposed, Meashka began exploring the possibility of using reprogrammed Borg nanites to alter affected individuals, implants, and systems. She hoped to tweak them so as to emit encompass themselves with a very small, low-level dampening field, to prevent similar attacks from functioning in the future.
Despite the all-too-recent trauma of the Rowling's destruction, Meashka felt almost glad to have something so intense to focus upon. It was curiously therapeutic for her, and though the task was challenging, she didn't seem to mind. And if anything, it reminded her how much she enjoyed practicing medicine and working hands-on. She resolved to continue working a spare shift each week in the Outpost Infirmary after the Colonial Command office was established.
The President's subspace speech was being fed live to ships in the service of Task Force Argo; meaning, every noncritical display on the Moirai showed the Saurian's surprise address. His voice nagged her attention while she worked-- further distraction from an already mundane task.
How different his words rang now than the last time she'd listened- really listened.
“...so far from friends and family...”
Jilkin had been a staunch supporter for the Saurian's reelection, but the appreciation hadn't carried. That one sentence was underlining a suspicion that the man was out of touch with the people keeping his peace.
Starfleet, Task Force Argo, was friend and family both.
The room went silent. The why of it she'd missed, but every head was turned to the nearest screen. Still blindly entering her report, she stole a glance- and chilled.
Faces, names, family and friends, -people- she knew were on that screen, crowding around the President as he was being ushered from the scene.
John...
It was obvious to them, all of them- staring gape-mouthed as the events unfolded- that the man had been injured, but it was unclear if Johnathon Traise himself registered it.
..and the attacker- sins of the sons, Ensign Muire-
The feed cut, leaving them with a stomach-pit cliff hanger that no episodic holonovel could offer.
How different his words rang now than the last time she'd listened- really listened.
“...so far from friends and family...”
Jilkin had been a staunch supporter for the Saurian's reelection, but the appreciation hadn't carried. That one sentence was underlining a suspicion that the man was out of touch with the people keeping his peace.
Starfleet, Task Force Argo, was friend and family both.
The room went silent. The why of it she'd missed, but every head was turned to the nearest screen. Still blindly entering her report, she stole a glance- and chilled.
Faces, names, family and friends, -people- she knew were on that screen, crowding around the President as he was being ushered from the scene.
John...
It was obvious to them, all of them- staring gape-mouthed as the events unfolded- that the man had been injured, but it was unclear if Johnathon Traise himself registered it.
..and the attacker- sins of the sons, Ensign Muire-
The feed cut, leaving them with a stomach-pit cliff hanger that no episodic holonovel could offer.
Argo Starbase Medical Facilities
Medical ReportPatient: Dae, 2858-7056-1563
Stardate: 89491.7 (28June)
Attending Physician: Lieutenant Horroka, Transferred to Doctor Yardlik on the USS Sutherland
Cause of injury: Physical engagement during combat duties
Patient suffered severe upper torso and upper extremity lacerations consistent with strikes from a sharp metallic object repeatedly thrust and slashed across the body from upper right to lower left. Blood loss was significant and partial organ failure was experienced before being stabilized.
Lacerations punctured left lunge, cracked ribs 8, 10, 11 and broke ribs 5,6,7 and 9 along the left side of the thoracic cage.
Lacerations to patients upper left extremely included complete separation of the radial collateral ligament.
Treatment included: application of syntha-derm patching over major lacerations; setting and osteo-solidation of broken bones; dermal regeneration of minor skin abrasions; injection with 25cc apliphonol; placement of Argon aspirator via tracheotomy.
Patient was transported to the medical facilities aboard the USS Sutherland at 2300 hours due to their facilities being better capable to manage his environmental needs.
Patient is expected to be released to bed-rest in 24 hours with full recovery estimated to take 8 days.
Argo Starbase Medical Facilities
Medical Report
Patient: Traise, Johnathon Garret, 3258-7937-1564
Stardate: 89491.7 (28June)
Attending Physician: Doctor Hassari,
Cause of injury: Phaser blast to the left flank.
Patient suffered glancing phaser blast to the lower left side, slight muscular and lower tissue damage.
Treatment included: application of syntha-derm patching over major laceration; dermal regeneration; injection with minor dosage of pain killers.
Note: Patent did refuse nanite treatment, while advising staff to temporarily forgo their use until the situation on the station was resolved.
Patient was conducive to treatment and of calm nature. Wound treatment was conducted close enough to injury that no scarring is expected. Patient was released same day to assume regular duties.
Medical Report
Patient: Traise, Johnathon Garret, 3258-7937-1564
Stardate: 89491.7 (28June)
Attending Physician: Doctor Hassari,
Cause of injury: Phaser blast to the left flank.
Patient suffered glancing phaser blast to the lower left side, slight muscular and lower tissue damage.
Treatment included: application of syntha-derm patching over major laceration; dermal regeneration; injection with minor dosage of pain killers.
Note: Patent did refuse nanite treatment, while advising staff to temporarily forgo their use until the situation on the station was resolved.
Patient was conducive to treatment and of calm nature. Wound treatment was conducted close enough to injury that no scarring is expected. Patient was released same day to assume regular duties.
To: Argo Outpost Command
Subject: Security Sweep following I.K.S. M'Wur destruction
To all it may concern,
following the destruction of the Klingon vessel, U.S.S. Agincourt commenced Alpha-1 scans of Outpost perimeter and any ships within a 3 light year radius. All ships inbound to Outpost Argo were stopped prior to entering Outpost space and Agincourt security teams were beamed aboard to search and secure all freighter. No unidentified ships discovered.
However, Agincourt's sensor systems are not 100% following the refit. Recommend science vessels repeat Agincourt's sensor sweep pattern to ensure outpost security.
Agincourt will remain at Yellow Alert until ordered to stand down by Commodore Ashworth.
Subject: Security Sweep following I.K.S. M'Wur destruction
To all it may concern,
following the destruction of the Klingon vessel, U.S.S. Agincourt commenced Alpha-1 scans of Outpost perimeter and any ships within a 3 light year radius. All ships inbound to Outpost Argo were stopped prior to entering Outpost space and Agincourt security teams were beamed aboard to search and secure all freighter. No unidentified ships discovered.
However, Agincourt's sensor systems are not 100% following the refit. Recommend science vessels repeat Agincourt's sensor sweep pattern to ensure outpost security.
Agincourt will remain at Yellow Alert until ordered to stand down by Commodore Ashworth.
To: Argo Outpost Command
Subject: Arcadia Security Sweep
From: Starfleet Command
Captain A'Printa and crew were not at Outpost Argo during the assassination attempt of President Okeg. Per the nature of the incident, a precautionary security sweep of the Arcadia and her crew was performed due to the presence and active use of Borg-derived technology.
[classified...]
Captain A'Printa, U.S.S. Arcadia, and crew passed all tests performed by Starfleet Intelligence.
[classified...]
It is the judgment of Starfleet Command that Captain A'Printa and the U.S.S. Arcadia pose no threat to station personnel.
Signed,
Admiral Ellok, Tor
Starfleet Command
Subject: Arcadia Security Sweep
From: Starfleet Command
Captain A'Printa and crew were not at Outpost Argo during the assassination attempt of President Okeg. Per the nature of the incident, a precautionary security sweep of the Arcadia and her crew was performed due to the presence and active use of Borg-derived technology.
[classified...]
Captain A'Printa, U.S.S. Arcadia, and crew passed all tests performed by Starfleet Intelligence.
[classified...]
It is the judgment of Starfleet Command that Captain A'Printa and the U.S.S. Arcadia pose no threat to station personnel.
Signed,
Admiral Ellok, Tor
Starfleet Command
Starfleet Medical Incident Report
Medical Lab, OUTPOST ARGO (IR-24601)
SUBJECT: Muire, Anzhela
SPECIES: Human (liberated Borg)
REPORT SUMMARY
After a six-hour analysis, Medical has completed their mapping of of the subject's neural pathways. Of particular note, subject's current mapping was compared to a record taken three months ago during a routine physical and the deviances were obvious and significant. Careful inspection of the altered synapses, however, revealed minor lesions which suggest that the damage was relatively recent.
Medical concludes that the carrier wave signal detected by various instruments targeted the subject's Borg implants and delivered a variant form of omicron radiation directly to the subject's cranium, which forcibly altered the subject's neural pathways into new patterns that would be susceptible to receiving commands. Medical posits that subject's exposure to radiation began began occurring approximately two to three days in advance of the President's appearance on Outpost Argo.
At this time, medical has begun neuropolaric induction therapy in an attempt to reverse the damage caused to subject. Subject will continue to remain in stasis until progress has been made. Medical estimates that treatment will take approximately five days, if successful.
A six month leave of absence request has been filed on behalf of the subject.
Medical Lab, OUTPOST ARGO (IR-24601)
SUBJECT: Muire, Anzhela
SPECIES: Human (liberated Borg)
REPORT SUMMARY
After a six-hour analysis, Medical has completed their mapping of of the subject's neural pathways. Of particular note, subject's current mapping was compared to a record taken three months ago during a routine physical and the deviances were obvious and significant. Careful inspection of the altered synapses, however, revealed minor lesions which suggest that the damage was relatively recent.
Medical concludes that the carrier wave signal detected by various instruments targeted the subject's Borg implants and delivered a variant form of omicron radiation directly to the subject's cranium, which forcibly altered the subject's neural pathways into new patterns that would be susceptible to receiving commands. Medical posits that subject's exposure to radiation began began occurring approximately two to three days in advance of the President's appearance on Outpost Argo.
At this time, medical has begun neuropolaric induction therapy in an attempt to reverse the damage caused to subject. Subject will continue to remain in stasis until progress has been made. Medical estimates that treatment will take approximately five days, if successful.
A six month leave of absence request has been filed on behalf of the subject.
*The holo-vid crackles to light displaying a slightly grainy video of President Okeg.*
Task Force Argo. I apologize to have to finish my comments to you in this manner, but security and other business back in Sol dictate it. First I want to say thank you for all the bravery and heroism I saw demonstrated.
It goes without saying... again... that this is one of the finest groups of Starfleet and Romulan officers I have ever met. Our enemies have tried to shake our freedom and security. And because of you, they have failed. Because of you, I am alive.
Because of you, I have all the assurance in the universe that our mission to bring freedom and prosperity to all the peoples of this entire quadrant will be realized.
There is an Andorian parable that states that when a group of beings are bonded strongly enough and have shared in one another's struggles, that the value of one person cannot be counted by his or her worth alone, but rather that of his entire village must be valued to know it.
In that I say that no being in your Task Force could ever be valued alone. You are all the value of this great Task Force. Be proud of that.
To Commodore Ashworth, be proud of that.
Thank you, Task Force Argo.
*The screens holds for a brief moment before the message ends.*
"Rex failure" He thought to himself. "Rex almost let prez-dent die... Rex too slow...too dumb... Rex make them pay"
Rex smouldered with anger on the transporter pad of the Klingon vessel as he waited for the rest of the team to materialize. Rex's senses were on overdrive. This is what he was designed for. Bred for. Honed into. A killing force of nature. Rex's body went into auto response.
He was aware but detached as he watched himself sweep through halls with the Star Fleet boarding team, he was ordered to stun, but when the KDF crew dared enter close combat, Rex dismantled them with cruel efficiency. Otherwise he shot with as much precision his phaser gatling gun allowed. Sweeping entire corridors with phaser bolts. Each time they advanced with caution, Rex grew more impatient. He did not register the disruptor wound on his shoulder slowly leaking copper colored blood. He was only mildly aware of his decision to tear off the remnants of his battle armor when it became non functional due to the amount of fire he had taken. Rex's body was engineered to withstand stun settings. Thus he shrugged off many of the early less potent bolts. After the KDF switched to more lethal methods in desperation, Rex showed little more caution.
At the entrance to engineering, the team became bogged down with resistance. Rex fired and fired but he began to see his comrades fall. Unacceptable. Rex would not fail again. Rex would not let more be hurt.
Rex let out a shattering warcry and rushed the doorway, taking several disruptor bolts full on. He continued, seeming in the red light something of nightmares unleashed from the underworld itself.
He moved with swiftness that belied his size, using huge clawed hands and stone hard strikes to systematically dissect the first few poor souls in his way.
The distraction allowed the team to finally push through in the chaos. Phasers and disruptors flashing everywhere.
Rex was lost in battle fury. he stunned, disarmed, maimed and killed personnel firing on the away team. Bathed in red, purple and copper liquids like war paint.
Then he saw the commander fall........ Rex snapped back. Became aware of himself again. He hoisted Commander Dae up into an upright position and rounded the corner where he heard the away team confronting a large gorn near a console. Dae motioned he could stand on his own and joined the others on the ramp. Rex didnt care much for what they were saying as he surveyed the injured star fleet near the base of the ramp. The cowardly Gorn hiding behind his protective field, and the dark colored cat person facing him.
Before he had completely recovered his faculties, the cat was upon commander Dae, but was quickly dispatched. However the Commander and several others were badly wounded. Somewhere in the din, Rex heard someone order him to get the wounded to safety. He complied, calling for an emergency beam out of himself and the others.
Rex materialized in sickbay. Medical staff already reacting and seeing to the Commander and others. Then it registered. Rex was standing in a pool of copper liquid. His chest, shoulder, arms and back were covered in the same thing. As he began to lose consciousness, it occurred to Rex he was bleeding to death from all the holes in himself.
"Rex get you home ok commander. No trouble now."
Rex fell to the floor, medical staff scrambling to get the behemoth onto a comically small medbay.
Rex smouldered with anger on the transporter pad of the Klingon vessel as he waited for the rest of the team to materialize. Rex's senses were on overdrive. This is what he was designed for. Bred for. Honed into. A killing force of nature. Rex's body went into auto response.
He was aware but detached as he watched himself sweep through halls with the Star Fleet boarding team, he was ordered to stun, but when the KDF crew dared enter close combat, Rex dismantled them with cruel efficiency. Otherwise he shot with as much precision his phaser gatling gun allowed. Sweeping entire corridors with phaser bolts. Each time they advanced with caution, Rex grew more impatient. He did not register the disruptor wound on his shoulder slowly leaking copper colored blood. He was only mildly aware of his decision to tear off the remnants of his battle armor when it became non functional due to the amount of fire he had taken. Rex's body was engineered to withstand stun settings. Thus he shrugged off many of the early less potent bolts. After the KDF switched to more lethal methods in desperation, Rex showed little more caution.
At the entrance to engineering, the team became bogged down with resistance. Rex fired and fired but he began to see his comrades fall. Unacceptable. Rex would not fail again. Rex would not let more be hurt.
Rex let out a shattering warcry and rushed the doorway, taking several disruptor bolts full on. He continued, seeming in the red light something of nightmares unleashed from the underworld itself.
He moved with swiftness that belied his size, using huge clawed hands and stone hard strikes to systematically dissect the first few poor souls in his way.
The distraction allowed the team to finally push through in the chaos. Phasers and disruptors flashing everywhere.
Rex was lost in battle fury. he stunned, disarmed, maimed and killed personnel firing on the away team. Bathed in red, purple and copper liquids like war paint.
Then he saw the commander fall........ Rex snapped back. Became aware of himself again. He hoisted Commander Dae up into an upright position and rounded the corner where he heard the away team confronting a large gorn near a console. Dae motioned he could stand on his own and joined the others on the ramp. Rex didnt care much for what they were saying as he surveyed the injured star fleet near the base of the ramp. The cowardly Gorn hiding behind his protective field, and the dark colored cat person facing him.
Before he had completely recovered his faculties, the cat was upon commander Dae, but was quickly dispatched. However the Commander and several others were badly wounded. Somewhere in the din, Rex heard someone order him to get the wounded to safety. He complied, calling for an emergency beam out of himself and the others.
Rex materialized in sickbay. Medical staff already reacting and seeing to the Commander and others. Then it registered. Rex was standing in a pool of copper liquid. His chest, shoulder, arms and back were covered in the same thing. As he began to lose consciousness, it occurred to Rex he was bleeding to death from all the holes in himself.
"Rex get you home ok commander. No trouble now."
Rex fell to the floor, medical staff scrambling to get the behemoth onto a comically small medbay.
Humiliating was the word dinAlt repeated to himself. As if the crisis was not enough, it was for him a professional disaster to boot. There were reasons; his own endurance had already been stretched during the grueling negotiations on Tarrokeen. And the Corvinus had already been en route at the time of the assassination attempt, but he had arrived on Outpost Argo hours after the investigation wrapped up. The chaos was passed, the President had been relocated, and the immediate investigation concluded.
As he walked off the lift, every step sent tendrils of pain through his legs, as his body still dealt with yesterday’s blood-fever. An evolutionary trick of Saurians to let their cold-blooded biology deal with crisis situations, it could backfire when the stress wasn’t caused by a physical danger.
He had only seen the aftermath of the assassination. Wanting information, he had sought gossip and found little. He had maintained his professionalism while a Romulan of the 26th used it as an excuse to say mean things about Klingons, but this had brought his stress levels to the breaking point. Once left alone with a Vahkur, getting more information, he had descended into a near-panic state, his fight-or-flight instinct misapplying itself in a social setting. Paranoid, he had floated theories that it wasn’t the Klingons, that it was a setup, to someone who had done the investigation. Even at the time he knew with certainty that these were unsupported and saw the contempt, but could not keep quiet.
The President was the one shot, and he didn’t act like that, dinAlt thought. Under control and gracious even after the attack; it’s not like he's at the mercy of his Saurian biology. Did I need another piece of evidence that I’m a journeyman not suited for a crisis?
And he had dragged his poor body as far as the Captain’s Office. Zyme was there with a worried look; he was sure she had volunteered to check on him on behalf of the rest of the senior staff. “Are you OK?” she asked.
“No.” He saw the concern deepen on her face. Concern, he noted, not contempt. There was no mutiny pending, apparently, no petition winding through Starfleet to move him back to a technician's job. So whatever happened, he was going to have to play at captain for at least a few days longer.
He couldn’t do anything to remove his humiliation, no great act of leadership in him. So he went with the mundane. “Three of the freighter scans from last night don’t have the officer’s comments appended. I want to see them. And I will be on the bridge in 30 minutes; inform Dessol I want her ready to review patrol pathfinding in detail.”
Zyme saluted silently and left, but dinAlt saw her face relax. He still didn’t understand his crew, not really. But apparently, for today, for them, handling the mundane was enough.
As he walked off the lift, every step sent tendrils of pain through his legs, as his body still dealt with yesterday’s blood-fever. An evolutionary trick of Saurians to let their cold-blooded biology deal with crisis situations, it could backfire when the stress wasn’t caused by a physical danger.
He had only seen the aftermath of the assassination. Wanting information, he had sought gossip and found little. He had maintained his professionalism while a Romulan of the 26th used it as an excuse to say mean things about Klingons, but this had brought his stress levels to the breaking point. Once left alone with a Vahkur, getting more information, he had descended into a near-panic state, his fight-or-flight instinct misapplying itself in a social setting. Paranoid, he had floated theories that it wasn’t the Klingons, that it was a setup, to someone who had done the investigation. Even at the time he knew with certainty that these were unsupported and saw the contempt, but could not keep quiet.
The President was the one shot, and he didn’t act like that, dinAlt thought. Under control and gracious even after the attack; it’s not like he's at the mercy of his Saurian biology. Did I need another piece of evidence that I’m a journeyman not suited for a crisis?
And he had dragged his poor body as far as the Captain’s Office. Zyme was there with a worried look; he was sure she had volunteered to check on him on behalf of the rest of the senior staff. “Are you OK?” she asked.
“No.” He saw the concern deepen on her face. Concern, he noted, not contempt. There was no mutiny pending, apparently, no petition winding through Starfleet to move him back to a technician's job. So whatever happened, he was going to have to play at captain for at least a few days longer.
He couldn’t do anything to remove his humiliation, no great act of leadership in him. So he went with the mundane. “Three of the freighter scans from last night don’t have the officer’s comments appended. I want to see them. And I will be on the bridge in 30 minutes; inform Dessol I want her ready to review patrol pathfinding in detail.”
Zyme saluted silently and left, but dinAlt saw her face relax. He still didn’t understand his crew, not really. But apparently, for today, for them, handling the mundane was enough.
"Thank you, Commodore. As usual your report is as thorough as it is concise."
Ashworth acknowledged the praise with a slight tip of his head and a flat "Sir." A moment passed in silence between him and the projection of Admiral Yanishev, then, and it gave him the creeping suspicion that the conversation was about to take a turn. When the admiral drew a deep breath through his nose and clenched his jaw, suspicion became certainty. He remained firm in parade rest, however, his dispassionate expression chiseled in stone.
"As you may have expected, the Klingon High Council has not responded well to the news of the M'Wur's destruction. Captain P'tor has been vocal in his defense of Starfleet, however the hardliners in J'mpok's court are unlikely to acquiesce on the matter based on the testimony of a handful of Starfleet officers."
"Do you believe the Empire will pull support from Battlegroup Omega?"
"No, even the staunchest detractors of the Federation in the High Council will concede that Omega remains the only thing standing between us and a full-scale Borg invasion, however they are demanding military retaliation, as well as the extradition of all the officers who participated in the boarding action on the M'Wur -- don't worry, our negotiators have been adamant in their refusal."
Ashworth realized his eyebrow had risen unbidden, prompting the Admiral's hasty addition to his explanation, and he smoothed it back down with little more than a nod.
"Regardless, however," Yanishev went on, "this incident has once again raised concerns that Task Force Argo has made enemies within the Klingon Defense Force. Powerful ones."
The statement was left hanging for a time, long enough to compel him to prompt the admiral to continue.
"Sir?"
Yanishev kept him waiting longer still, again drawing a breath and setting his jaw, but finally he continued, "In light of these events, Starfleet Command has elected to decline your petition to elevate Task Force Argo to fleet status."
"I see." His eyes broke away from the admiral's momentarily, and as he met Yanishev's gaze again he straightened his shoulders and pursed his lips to assure himself the rest of his expression had not slipped as well before he added, "Reasonable, under the circumstances. It would undoubtedly sour negotiations with the Empire to elevate the status of our task force while the High Council is still lobbing accusations of sabotage."
"There's more."
He felt a sudden pit form in the depths of his stomach, though to his relief it manifested externally as little more than an incline of his chin and raised eyebrows.
"There are elements in Command -and- the Federation Council who believe that your task force should be disbanded, and they've latched onto this situation to press for a joint session to debate the matter. They haven't succeeded in securing a date yet, but I don't think this is going to go away."
"No, I suspect not. I trust you'll keep me apprised of the situation, sir?"
"I will. I expect you'll be hearing from me again soon."
"Understood."
The image of Admiral Yanishev flickered out and the holo-communicator grid went dark, leaving Ashworth alone in his office, still at parade rest, staring at the wall, expression unchanged. Finally his index and middle fingers found their way to his badge to place a single tap upon it.
"Ashworth to Lieutenant Jal'shan: my meeting with Admiral Yanishev has concluded. Please see the representatives from the Nerrak Mining Conglomerate to my office now."
Ashworth acknowledged the praise with a slight tip of his head and a flat "Sir." A moment passed in silence between him and the projection of Admiral Yanishev, then, and it gave him the creeping suspicion that the conversation was about to take a turn. When the admiral drew a deep breath through his nose and clenched his jaw, suspicion became certainty. He remained firm in parade rest, however, his dispassionate expression chiseled in stone.
"As you may have expected, the Klingon High Council has not responded well to the news of the M'Wur's destruction. Captain P'tor has been vocal in his defense of Starfleet, however the hardliners in J'mpok's court are unlikely to acquiesce on the matter based on the testimony of a handful of Starfleet officers."
"Do you believe the Empire will pull support from Battlegroup Omega?"
"No, even the staunchest detractors of the Federation in the High Council will concede that Omega remains the only thing standing between us and a full-scale Borg invasion, however they are demanding military retaliation, as well as the extradition of all the officers who participated in the boarding action on the M'Wur -- don't worry, our negotiators have been adamant in their refusal."
Ashworth realized his eyebrow had risen unbidden, prompting the Admiral's hasty addition to his explanation, and he smoothed it back down with little more than a nod.
"Regardless, however," Yanishev went on, "this incident has once again raised concerns that Task Force Argo has made enemies within the Klingon Defense Force. Powerful ones."
The statement was left hanging for a time, long enough to compel him to prompt the admiral to continue.
"Sir?"
Yanishev kept him waiting longer still, again drawing a breath and setting his jaw, but finally he continued, "In light of these events, Starfleet Command has elected to decline your petition to elevate Task Force Argo to fleet status."
"I see." His eyes broke away from the admiral's momentarily, and as he met Yanishev's gaze again he straightened his shoulders and pursed his lips to assure himself the rest of his expression had not slipped as well before he added, "Reasonable, under the circumstances. It would undoubtedly sour negotiations with the Empire to elevate the status of our task force while the High Council is still lobbing accusations of sabotage."
"There's more."
He felt a sudden pit form in the depths of his stomach, though to his relief it manifested externally as little more than an incline of his chin and raised eyebrows.
"There are elements in Command -and- the Federation Council who believe that your task force should be disbanded, and they've latched onto this situation to press for a joint session to debate the matter. They haven't succeeded in securing a date yet, but I don't think this is going to go away."
"No, I suspect not. I trust you'll keep me apprised of the situation, sir?"
"I will. I expect you'll be hearing from me again soon."
"Understood."
The image of Admiral Yanishev flickered out and the holo-communicator grid went dark, leaving Ashworth alone in his office, still at parade rest, staring at the wall, expression unchanged. Finally his index and middle fingers found their way to his badge to place a single tap upon it.
"Ashworth to Lieutenant Jal'shan: my meeting with Admiral Yanishev has concluded. Please see the representatives from the Nerrak Mining Conglomerate to my office now."