Space used to be a lot larger.

Or at least it had felt that way until the day came when the Dominion was pressing upon Federation boarders. There wasn't one Starfleet vessel that wasn't engaged in the overwhelming war effort. The only ones who were not participating were in for repairs or reduced to floating clusters of scrap metal, lost among the distant stars. All except for one ship anyways, one ship that was not holding Federation lines or making counter strikes against enemy blockades. This one ship was none other than the USS Orion.

During a time when morale amongst the Federation and its allies couldn't be lower, it seemed a fool hardy choice. After all, they were losing the war, badly. Wasn't it folly to not use every resource available? Even some of the crew onboard the Orion herself mirrored that line of thought as they went about their daily duties.

Tensions ran high on board as the orders were given to leave for the Vulcan system. While this might have been considered good news, many of the crew even considered it a chance to get a piece of the action. Knowing full well that the Vulcan system was heavily contested by the Dominion. However their hopes were dashed when it was announced the ship would still not be joining the war effort. Instead the Orion would be acting as an escort, one which had been ordered to stay out of conflict and avoid the Dominion if at all possible.

The orders resulted in displeasure settling in the crew's thoughts. Everyone had lost someone in the war and being told not to get involved? But they were Starfleet officers and did as they were told. After all they had heard of Ambassador Spock. No one could make it through the Academy without hearing about Captain James T. Kirk and Ambassador Spock.

The Ambassador's near deflection to Romulus nearly six years ago was infamous, as was the threats of war that had been carried as a consequence of his actions. In the end however, it had instead resulted in unprecedented cooperation that had waned and ebbed over the years. Though in recent years it had ebbed further than past as the Romulans had thrown their cards in with the Dominion.

To say tensions were running high was to say water was wet. The USS Orion was no exception as it was currently docked near Earth. The retrofitted Miranda Class Starship was battle worthy but her mission was to be something else. As soon as Captain Vaella walked out of her meeting with the head of Starfleet everyone in the campus had known. The Orion was going to Vulcan. Those not currently assigned to a ship eagerly checked their orders to see if there would be any last minute changes. The chance to possibly aid the Federation in any way was too strong to resist.

However all assignments to the Orion had been made. A few minor adjustments had been made to the crew. A one Lt. Illyria “Lyra” Jadan Kan’Dosha had replaced the old Chief of Security who had decided to retire. Along with a few other new faces. The Orion was scheduled to leave the Sol system by 1800 and arrive at Vulcan as swift as the little ship could safely go. The Federation had impressed upon the Captain the importance of Ambassador Spock's work. Time was ripe to sway the Romulans away from the Dominion. Already cracks were forming in their relationship. With the Romulans on their side they might be able to turn the tide and pull out a victory.

Without? The losses would be unthinkable.

---

Ensign Kayla Moss, a young earth woman, watched yet another load of crew and cargo materialize in transporter room 5. She stifled a yawn as the men and women grabbed said cargo and removed it from the transporter pad. When they were clear she put a call through to Earth.

"Ready for the next set." This was going to be a boring two more hours.

He was wearing his uniform. The young man looked down at the red and black and decided that, if had to wear something that made him look silly, dammit he'd be silly. Not that...he...wasn't usually. But that wasn't the point! Neil Edwards lounged near the docking entrance of the ship, biting into an apple and chewing it nonchalantly. Two female cargo movers sauntered passed him. He gave them a wink, and they scoffed and turned away from him.

Well then...

In all honesty that was the exact reaction he was expecting. He just felt it was funny to play the part of some down on his luck casanova. This time, a male cargo hauler strode passed him, and he walked up to the guy. "Hey fella" he said, his tone upbeat and comical. "Hey, you know when this ship leaves the base?" The guy looked at him like he was crazy, though he might have heard of Ensign Edwards and knew that fact was already established. "Two hours." Neil answered before the man finished 'hours' "Two hours? What am I supposed to do for two hours?"

"Why are you asking me?"
Neil sputtered for a moment, making odd gestures with his hands before spewing out air through his mouth as if to say 'I dunno.'

Sta'l took a sip from his cup of Iced Raktajino as he continued to look over the latest issue of Technology Today on his Padd. What I wouldn't give to dig around the engine room of the Sovereign class, even if it was only for a day. , he thought wistfully as he looked over the technical specifications of the massive ship. He looked up and around the mess hall with a small smile. The Sovereign class might be one of the most advanced class of ships in Starfleet, but the Orion was his home. He was more familiar with the Miranda class vessel then with any other ship and he knew the engine room like the back of his hand.

His thoughts turned to the upcoming mission and the smile faded after a moment. He had nothing but respect and admiration for Ambassador Spock and all that he had done but the Romulan senate...that was a different matter. Despite being a Romulan himself, he knew nothing of the Romulan way of life and he blamed the Romulan senate. All he knew was that the Romulan senate had unjustly exiled his parents after they had failed a mission and they had taken their lives with their own honor blades after being rescued by the Gorkon. Figures the Senate would decide to sit this out. Let the Dominion wage war against Starfleet and the Klingons, leave it to the senate to kiss up to the Dominion. He thought to himself as he shook his head and returned to his reading. His thoughts suddenly switched tracks again as he turned to look at the Replicator.

I wonder if I can tweak this enough to make the Denevan plum pudding taste like Mom's. He thought as he looked at the Padd and saw that he had around another hour before his duty shift began. Maybe I can see if I can get it to make some Rokeg Blood pie. That would most likely make Jovar's day and it's something new to eat.

Sta'l grinned widely for a moment, got to his feet and began tinkering with the Replicator.

Nick was on the Bridge. He liked being on the bridge, if engineering was his first home then the bridge was his second. Since his promotion he had not been in engineering nearly as much as he would have liked but the thrill of command was too good to pass up. He was checking over last minute status updates and making sure everything they needed for the voyage was onboard. It looked like everything was going to plan so he sat back in his chair and looked out the viewport where he saw that there were still a few 'bees' floating around outside.

'bees' was a term used to refer to Cargo Management Units, a one man worker pod used to move cargo and carry out external maintenance on starships. Most Federations starships carried one and starbases and drydocks had many. He wondered if Orion's was out there, checking his PADD. It was. He checked the time.

"Open a channel to CMU 067." He said to the Comm officer on the bridge.

"Personal Log; Stardate... um... something. I think it's winter down here on earth, if that helps?

Today will be my first aboard the Starship Orion - it will be the largest ship I've served on so far, and also my first day as Chief of Security. I have some feelings of tension about it - I'm more than aware there are individuals aboard the ship who would have liked my new rank; particularly older people than myself. However, I doubt anyone will be unprofessional about it.

I'm particularly looking forward to seeing my old friend Jovar again; it's been a few years since we've seen each other, aboard the USS Cochrane. That had been a considerably smaller vessel than the Orion, but I won't let myself be daunted by it. Bigger ship means more people, after all. And I love meeting new people!

As for meetings, those aboard the Bridge will have to wait. A few weeks ago - while aboard my previous assignment of the USS Centaur - I contracted Andro-... Andro-nesian Encef. Ence- ugh. I contracted something contagious and annoyingly debilitating, so I have to report to the sickbay first for a check-up. Just in case it managed to sneak back on board with me. I do not want to go through that again - not on this mission."

---

---

Deciding that was quite enough time spent on logs, Lyra switched off her small recording device, and tapped it lightly against her open palm thoughtfully. She had yet to leave her temporary quarters at Starfleet Headquarters - helpfully supplied after her leaving the USS Centaur. Lyra had been serving there for the past two years, and it had been a good enough run. However, once the job became available about the Orion, she couldn't resist applying for it. There were several people aboard the Centaur that had encouraged her to put herself forward for the job - although she was slightly unsure whether they actually wanted her to get a promotion, or just wanted to get rid of her altogether. The thought didn't bother her - Lyra knew that not everyone was comfortable with her somewhat loud personality, and she wasn't going to blame those people for it. Unless of course, they became mean about it.

Then she'd be bothered.

Putting those thoughts aside with a sigh, Lyra left her quarters, making her way to the transporter room with a slight bounce in her step. This wasn't the time for questioning people she wouldn't be working with anymore; better to think about the prospect of the new people! According to what Lyra had heard, there was a pleasant mish-mash of different species aboard the ship she would soon be boarding - including ones she had never met before. Still... as she had mentioned in her personal log, all of this would have to wait until after her medical exam.

"Oh, I hope they don't take a lot of blood samples this time." She murmured under her breath in a worried sort of tone, brow furrowing slightly. She was hardly one to be squeamish of blood and needles, but it was annoying when they took too much. Surely, the doctor's didn't need an entire pint of blood just to check for diseases? The last one had, at least.

Deciding - once again - that negative thoughts shouldn't be around her at this somewhat pivotal moment in her career, Lyra avoided further thought into her coming medical exam and joined a group of others at the transporter - the journey always bothered some people, but for her, it was fast and painless. Well, unless something went wrong and you had your atoms scattered across the void of space, but Lyra never really considered that as a big risk. It wasn't a fun thought, really.

While the rest of the people milled out of the transporter room aboard the Orion, Lyra paused as she spotted the young woman at the controls - an ensign, by the look of her uniform. Taking a moment to introduce herself with her token smile and handshake (Lyra had to be careful with things like this in the past; most species were happy with handshakes, but there was a rather embarrassing moment with a Vulcan that one time...), she chatted a while with Kayla; asking various questions about the ship, it's crew, and of course, the Captain. Who, interestingly enough, could be considered rather young for the race she belonged to, and was still considered to be extremely talented in varied fields. This was a soothing thought to Lyra, what with her own appointment being premature in the eyes of some.

After bidding a farewell to the young Ensign - who seemed a bit less bored now that she'd met an Avalian for apparently the first time - Lyra soon found herself wandering the corridors of the Orion, smiling to herself as she went. One could tell even in just the corridors that the ship was bigger than both the Oberth and Centaur class starships; but a full exploration would have to wait until she'd visited the sickbay.

"I wonder if someone will give me a tour?" Lyra thought to herself as she made her to the sickbay - she didn't want to keep the CMO waiting, after all.

"It's been open for the past five minutes sir... I haven't figured out how to turn it off yet and there's no instruction manual in this little plastic wallet." Henry admits. Every button on the console is unfamiliar to the poor old commander as he's used to an older version of a completely different design of console. The only good thing about Henry's new console is that the lights are almost identical to his old console's lights, that and there is a compartment that fits a packet of biscuits nicely off to the right of the console. Why no one stopped an old man from carrying a cushion, a packet of biscuits and a copy of War of the Worlds up to the bridge is something as puzzling as the buttons to Henry.

"Let me know when you need anything else sir, that or when someone's found the instruction booklet." Henry happily chirps before starting off the book and the first biscuit with the swivel chair's back facing the console. It's what the old commander is accustomed to; a calm environment where he only needs to look at the console every ten minutes while enjoying a book during the peaceful and uneventful duties. The Orion hopefully isn't too different to the old outpost for Henry.

A few years ago, when Lieutenant Jovar first came aboard the USS Orion, just as he had done aboard the USS Cochrane and the USS Lantree, Jovar set up a few exercise programs on the ship’s Holodeck. Program one simply resembled a gym with weights, cardio equipment and mats to stretch and perform other exercises not requiring weights like Push-ups and sit-ups. Program two resembled a cage with a matted floor for two people to spar against one another. Program three establishes various scenarios for hand to hand combat armed or unarmed, against computer generated opponents. Program four has the option of choosing several different terrain settings and consists of engaging targets at various ranges uses laser weapons. Today, the tactical department chief Lieutenant Commander Poxx and the ship’s Tactical Officer were exercising on the Holodeck using Jovar’s exercise program one.

“Interesting.” Xiril said through a grunt. He and Jovar held themselves up in tense push-up positions across from one another on the ship’s holodeck, having spent the past few minutes discussing their respective planet’s courtship rituals as the conversation for that morning’s workout -- Namely, their unspoken superiority to the contrived, confusing rituals of their human crewmates. Xiril was now fifty pushups behind Jovar, though this was not entirely out of the norm. He was, after all, more of a swimmer in physique.

“In the Klingon culture, it involves a lot of grunting, scratching and biting.” Jovar got caught up in the moment. His push-ups slowed as he stared into the distance, obviously imagining the Klingon mating session.

Xiril furrowed a hairless brow, before tilting his head into his own more reserved recollections. “On Cepha, we typically,” He paused, bringing himself up from the ground with a moment of exertion. “Create a mating nest out of soft seaweed,” He pushed himself up once more, slower than the last pushup. “And a mating drum from the skin of a fish.” Finishing his remark, he sat up and rolled onto his backside to sit on the holodeck’s simulated gym’s floor with a grunt. “I have been told the Vulcans have a similar ritual.”

“Honestly Commander, I do not know about Vulcan mating rituals or whether or not they create nests of seaweed.” Jovar illuminated to his section leader.

Xiril nodded, standing up to stretch. “I know little of the people, and have only ever briefly encountered their kind. Have you ever encountered a Vulcan Captain?”

“I find the people to be plain and boring. They all have black hair and brown eyes. They have their pointed ears and speak only of logic. There is no color, animation or anything interesting in their lives. They are very different from the Klingons and I must also state, very different from humans. Enough about that,” Jovar stated. “Have you been to Vulcan before the Orion? I was there with the Cochrane about six years ago.

“The Highlander once stopped at Vulcan during my tenure as helmsman, but my rebreather was not properly calibrated for the planet’s environment at the time.” He tapped the metal device on his neck and sucked in a lungful of air as if to emphasize his point. “I look forward to meeting one, however. It seems the Vulcan philosophy mirrors Cephanian instinct.” He walked over to one of the gym’s many treadmills and began pressing a few buttons on the screen. “Ambassador Spock is a Half-Vulcan, I hear. He will be the first Half-Vulcan I have met, though I will likely be the first Cephanian he has met.” He chuckled dryly to himself three times and no further, cracking his lips into the faintest of smiles.

Jovar stood up, slipped on a pair of sparring gloves; the light gloves that provide padding to the back of the hand, yet the tips of each finger are exposed. A heavy bag hung from the wall in one area of the gym. Jovar assumed a solid fighting stance with his arms up to his face. He tapped the bag with a left jab. Then repeated the jab twenty more times, increasing the intensity with each strike. He then rotated his right shoulder forward, throwing a succession of crosses. Then he alternated Jab cross in rapid succession for one hundred strikes. After completing the jabs and crosses, he dropped into the push-up position, executed one push up then jumped back up to his feet and struck the heavy bag with an additional two hundred successive jabs and crosses. He continued in this manner, until he had hit the bag five hundred times and executed five burpees.

“Commander, I should check the port side phased energy emitter on the lower hull. It has been acting oddly lately. I will check with Engineering to see if they have fixed it at all.” Jovar was ready to leave the holodeck and begin his duties, but he had one more thing he wanted to do before he left. He removed his gloves and picked up a towel. “Unless of course, you would like to go for a few rounds?” Lieutenant Jovar smiled at his supervisor; intentionally baring his teeth.

Xiril gave him the closest thing a Cephanian could to a smile -- A nod warmer than his usual. “I am still recovering from our last bout of sparring, Lieutenant, but I feel I have lost a finer degree of skill during this absence.” He paused for a moment, grasping faintly in a gesture for “I don’t know”, trying to bring the right words to mind. “I fear I am growing, as one might say, rusted?”

“OK, Commander. I’ll see you on the bridge in an hour or so. I’ll check with Engineering about that phased energy emitter. Thank you for the work out.” Jovar nodded at Commander Poxx and left. Within the hour, Lieutenant Jovar was standing at his station to the rear of the bridge behind the Captain’s chair.

Caelum slept better than he usually did with the promise of active service looming once more on the horizon. Space was comforting, like a blanket––a dark, empty blanket with pinpricks of stars and certain death by asphyxiation. By the time the Orion was set to depart Earth, the customary dark circles under his eyes were nowhere to be found, and there was a certain lightness in his step as he swanned past the various new medical personnel, forgetting faces and names almost instantly.

In the space of two and a half hours, he had reorganized his old notes from Plagueship: Infectious Diseases On Board––a textbook he swore by since the CMO on his first residency off-world recommended it––and skipped through an alphabetical list of important medicines in his head before double-checking with the inventory list. Such work was for the staff, and he could have delegated, but there was nothing wrong with doing something twice, especially not if in six months it could be the difference between life and death-by-brain-eating-parasite.

But in the end, there was only so much tedium he could take, and it was the sixth minute of stroking the sharp spines of his pet cactus (the only exception he made to the spick and span medical lab; a slight untidiness on otherwise clinically clean surfaces) and the eighth jag that almost drew blood that had him realise he really ought to find something else to do.

Break involved a walk: a chat with an engineer on terms that Caelum only had the vaguest familiarity with (because he was never one for that), two minutes of dietary recommendations to a panicked girl in a red shirt whose first voyage began in about two hours, and ending up at Science for ‘business’.

William, on the other hand, was, as his mother always put after hot, summer day, ‘Rode hard and put away wet.’ Preparations took a toll on William, enough that he wandered most of Orion’s science division sneering and almost literally snarling. Only thirty minutes in and he’d already sent a kid to his bunk red faced and puffy eyed. He’d apologize later; having one’s ideas shot down never was pleasant.

The rest of his hours, he’d spent inside one of the ship’s labs - dubbed, his lab purely because that’s where he logged most of his hours. Those thirty minutes wandering had been the only thirty minutes inside the ship not working. Sensors had to read accurately, anything and everything that could go wrong had to be closely monitored, and not only that but his own theoretical research had gone upend and blown up in his face (not literally, this time). At least his lab remained pristine.

That’s likely the thing about William. On the surface, he seemed loud and raucous. Just that fact brought on various (wrong) assumptions of his own intellect. Beneath, William had very precise ways of looking at things, taking in information, and observing practically anything that could prove useful to him and his research later. That meant William kept a tidiness not usually akin to what people thought of him. It’s the number one reason why only a select few, likely senior, science officers even stepped into the same lab. What better way not to piss off the supervisor, boss-man than refusing to even be in the same vicinity as him.

That hard disconnect, between work and play, drove a deep wedge between William and his younger, newer subordinates. It didn’t help that his accent got incredibly thick when he found himself livid; anger filled his words with nonsense idioms that sprang to mind. Of course, there were a select few that found William tolerable, endearing even. Caelum was hardly one of them, but they were fast friends regardless. It helped that a lot of their work intersected: Caelum epidemiology put him in William’s realm of study. Somewhat. If there was any science officer that could aid the CMO to the greatest effect, it was likely William.

The moment Caelum even so much as walked past William’s lab, the door sprang open, a hand reached out, and it forcibly pulled the man inside. “I need some assistance,” William drew, tacking on a clumsy “pardner,” at the end. He had about as much aplomb as an elephant, at the moment. “My damnable ex-cadets decided they’d have some great fun genetically splicing some of the ship’s rations,” he started almost immediately, moving away from Caelum toward a petri dish of sliced something, “they’ve irradiated a few boxes, though I made sure to order double the replacements. Now I just gotta clean their mess.”

William paused, his head swiveled to stare at Caelum. He eyed the officer, once, twice over before sighing. “My ma woulda killed me for my incredible lack of manners.” After setting some of his equipment down, William walked over toward his long time friend and braced Caelum by his shoulders. “Would ya kindly help me out, darlin’?” he said, a slow, deliberate, thick draw of an exhausted tone leaving his lips, “I just need some of your medical officers to scan any of the old shipment of foodstuffs in order to make sure I ain’t missin’ a few irradiated bananas. I’ve got all the ones I found in this lab’s hazard room and am testin’ a few decontaminated ones to make sure they ain’t got no viruses or any other contaminatin’ contagions. Whaddya say, bud?”

Long since accustomed to a lack of small talk (and the strangeness of being called ‘pardner’ by a modern day cowboy-turned-Chief Science Officer), Caelum took only thirty seconds to translate. The cogs could be seen turning behind a momentarily furrowed brow. “Before I agree, what on Earth did they splice it with? And––no, never mind, I don’t need to know why. Cadets.”

They were all the same, but then again, a younger Caelum hadn’t tried genetically modifying fruit.

He leaned back against the wall beside the closed door, crossing his arms. “I’m guessing you scared ‘em off. Why make them fix up their own mistakes if you can make them cry, right?” It was sarcastic––the exact sort of sarcasm that Caelum let slip around Hackett most of the time. Serving on the same ship for more than a year gave him free reign to pick on the officer’s deplorable people skills. The concept of ‘Southern Charm’ was clearly a lie.

William gave a tight lipped smile - the kind of sneer only a Southern man could achieve. “Absolutely. Better to be feared than loved, my ma always used to say.” Clearly a lie and Caelum would likely see right through it. It tended to happen when one prefaced everything with, ‘My mama always used to say,’ and then some garbage that no mother would tell their son.

The camaraderie felt nearly palpable, or at least in a sarcastic sense. Regardless, William waved off the jab for a moment to gesture toward the petri dish. “They thought, ‘Why would we need replicators if we could make food replicate itself?’ Amateurish,” William scoffed, “They tampered with a replicator, spliced whatever element they deemed appropriate with this here banana and thought it’d just suddenly work. Bless their hearts.” Faulty science. Well, not faulty. It was sound logic, just the methods used were seen as deplorable. A few experiments - lousy ones - didn’t suddenly mean full success. Failure, in science, was a necessary application. Both William and Caelum knew that well enough, though Will assumed Dr. Cassidy’s failures had a more immediate impact.

“Contaminated a nice section of our emergency supply with a great, big ol’ dose of radiation.” William finished with a pause, and then, “By the way, how was your day, good Doc? Nah, I don’t really care. Come help me ‘fore I scalp myself.”

“This is grunt work. Friends don’t ask friends to do grunt work,” Caelum noted, as if Hackett didn’t already know, but took the necessary steps to the nearest free lab space, rolling up his sleeves. “You’ve got me for thirty minutes before I have to go do, you know, medical duties. Check-ups. And, in return for this––” Caelum, since it seemed to be the done thing, gestured at the petri dish. He didn’t even know what mysterious splicing it contained yet, but he could only assume it to be bad. “First: you owe me help in the medical lab; I’m doing some research and I need a half-decent lab partner. Grunt work for grunt work.”

He paused, then offered a fleeting grin. “Second: cards when you’re free? It’s weird being back after shore leave; I could use something to keep me busy.”

After the recent years, the parents’ death, the return to Starfleet, the coming onto the Orion, it felt nice having something familiar to fall back to. Of course, William refused to acknowledge that out of some dumb masculine pride - or rather, he’d rather not feed Caelum’s non-existent ego. He smiled still and dug into work, letting the triviality lull him into a relaxed state. “You got yourself a deal, pardner,” William nodded, “I can’t deny any chance of takin’ all your hard earned spirits. And I mean both: your competitive spirit and that whiskey I know you got hidin’ in your quarters.”

At that, Caelum could only marvel. “You really are a stereotype.”

“I do make my mama proud. Did. I did. Whatever. Shut up, yer Euro slang’s trippin’ me up.”

---

Neil had gotten quite bored outside, letting out a breath as he stepped onto the ship. He wondered if he could meet anyone new on the ship, heading past the main shuttle bay and found himself just at the entrance of the observation lounge. He blinked, his head tilted as he beheld an alien girl he'd never seen before. "Hi." he said amiably, giving her a wave and his signature smile. "New to the building or is it just that big?" he joked.

As it happened, Lyra has become slightly more distracted along her path to the sickbay. Partly because in asking someone where it was, they gave both vauge directions, and informed her that their CMO wasn't currently in there; the other reason was the Observation Lounge she had happened upon. It was by chance, really; as she had walked by, someone had walked out - and there she saw the view of Earth.

It was a breath-taking sight; well, to her, most things in space were. But there was just something special about Earth - so much different to her own planet, and yet, so much similar. Lyra had found that typical of many planets and species she had happened across, and it was an exceptionally intriguing fact to consider. Despite the lightyears in distance and difference in cultures, there were still common concepts to be found across the stars. And as she gazed out of the lounge window, admiring the blue beauty of Earth, Lyra found herself thinking once more of home.

It wasn't really the best time to be feeling homesick... and thankfully, the arrival of a human distracted her from those somewhat sombre thoughts. Returning his smile, Lyra's warm, friendly exterior returned in full.

"Your Orion is certainly big; one of the largest ships I've yet to serve on." She began, walking over to him. He had a pleasnt smile; warm eyes. Good attributes in all species, in her opinion. "But yes, I am also new. Your new Chief of Security, in fact; Lieutenant Illyria Kan'Dosha." Thinking she was safe with a handshake with a human, she extended one in welcome, smile not withholding. "But you can call me Lyra - I'm not on duty just yet, after all."

His dark eyes brightened, and his smile grew warmer as he shook her hand. She seemed genuinely nice, and as much of a troublemaker as he was, he wasn't going to do anything that would potentially make misfortune on a legitimately kind individual. Especially a cute girl. He found her small scars kind of endearing. It showed she'd been places in her life. "Well, allow me to welcome you on the ship." he said. "I'm Ensign Edwards, one of the Engineers. Call me Neil though. And allow me to apologize in advance upon hearing about your new position. I have a tendancy to get on the bad side of the security crew just because I tend to...what's the word...let's just say I get eccentric."

He shrugged as if to say 'it's me, what can you do?' and grinned, before looking past her and getting a very lovely view of Earth. "Have you ever been before?" he asked, nodding toward the big blue planet below them. "To Earth."

Chuckling at Neil's premature apology, Lyra wasn't particularly bothered. She knew the type; caution was sometimes thrown to the wind in order to get a job done - usually involving improvising of some sort. The sort were definitely common among engineers, but then, the job demanded ingenuity at times. Besides, she could hardly complain - she herself sometimes had bouts of... "eccentric" behaviour too.

Following Neil's gaze to the view of Earth, Lyra nodded, curls bouncing as she did - she hadn't found the time nor patience to tame them today, so for now, they hung loose. However, something would have to be done before meeting with the Captain; Lyra had to look as professional as possible for her first impression, despite the fact said first impression would be dashed to pieces the second her true, bouncy nature came out on the Bridge.

"Uhuh - I just came from there, my last ship dropped me off a week or so ago. It's a very beautiful planet. If I didn't enjoy my job so much, I'd stay there."

Neil looked at her for a moment as she gazed at earth, before joining her in looking at his home planet. "I am glad I grew up there." he admitted. "Made me what I am, which some might say that it's a bad thing but-" he shrugged. "I like it. Earth too. Though I gotta be honest, one of the reasons I'm here is to get away from it. New worlds and experiences sound like something that's too good to pass up, even if we are stuck in endless regulations on the ship."

Miraculiously, Neil seemed to pull an apple out of nowhere from some fold in his pants, which was very odd considering the very plain, easily recognizeably flat pants the crew members were tasked with wearing had very little room to carry things in. He rolled it down his shoulder and spun it on his finger for a moment. "Hungry?" he asked. Sometimes from the scheduling, people tended to miss meals and she seemed to be preoccupied in her head over something. Perhaps it was food?

A slight frown appeared on Lyra's face as she looked at the fruit, trying to remember which one it was. Banana? No, that was the odd yellow one.

"Oh - an apple, yes?" Finally remembering, she shook her head with a smile. "Not so hungry - besides, I can't eat much in the way of fruit. Different digestive system, and all that. I remember trying cherries for the same time, and ate a whole bowl becuase I liked them so much." Now laughing, Lyra probably considered the situation a lot more humorous than her previous CMO aboard the USS Cochrane. "I was in bed for two days with stomach cramps - didn't stop me liking them though."

Neil chuckled, then bit into the apple. "Well I'll be sure to share some beef jerky next time." he joked. Actually, thinking on that now he really wanted some too. "And yes it's an apple." He tilted his head and regarded her. "Not that I am complaining but you seem very personable for Chief Security. Either that or I have been extremely unlikely in running into security in the past. How'd you come by the job, Lyra? You don't mind me calling you Lyra?"

"Lyra's fine." She began with a companionable smile - she was asked this question a lot. She couldn't understand why Security Officer's had to be solemn and stoic all the time - she had found people were generally more cooperative if you treated them nicely. Why use shackles when you can just smile? "I suppose I just preferred this route out of all the others. I mean, Starfleet was an obvious choice for me - I'd left home and wanted to see the Universe. This was the best place to do that." She paused then, looking back out of the window; not towards Earth, but to the glittering void of space and stars in the distance.
"I'm stern when I need to be, and obviously impressed enough people over the years to get this job. It's my first time in a commanding role, but I think I'll do alright. Well... hope so, anyway. Everyone else will be the judge of that." Pausing, another confused frown settled on her face as she looked back to Neil.

"What's beef jerky?"

He regarded her a moment, and then nodded. For once, his face was genuine. Well...it was often genuine. But for once his face was purely genuine without mischief. "I believe you'll do grand." he said. "Just because every security officer has been a hard ass doesn't mean it necessarily works. Hell I still have a job and that alone means they haven't done their's in some respects. I-...what."

Neil was taken aback. "Are you telling me...that you have a carnivorous diet and you've never tasted the best piece of meat in the galaxy?" Once he realized what he had said, it took his full willpower not to burst into laughter from the innuendo he had inadvertently made. But this was too important for him to mess up. "Beef jerky is...well it's incredible. Especially Teriyaki. Beef Jerky is beef, meat from a cow, salted and seasoned and....ooooo it's just good."

Ears perking up in understanding, Lyra recalled what "beef" tasted like. It was one of the most popular meats for humans, as she believed. Chicken was a common one too.
"It certainly sounds delicious - I'll have to try some for dinner." She replied with a grin; that was yet another thing to add to her list of foods to try. Among them was "sushi", "lasagne", and something called a "corndog".

"And thank you for having faith in me - a possibily risky action, but I am grateful for it anyway." Chuckling softly, Lyra had a somewhat mischievous look in her eye. She had hopes that other people on the ship would be as welcoming as Neil, but even now, she knew it wasn't likely. Some sorts just never got along with her type of personality. Hopefully the CMO she had yet to meet would be pleasant enough; it would make for an awkward examamination otherwise.

"Oh, would you happen to know the way to the sickbay? I have a date to keep."

There it was... that glint in her eye. He could tell he was quite lucky to have her aboard. He'd seen that look in his own eye far too much by his reflection on the ship's reflective walls. Most people who saw it thought of trouble, but to him it meant the promise of fun and adventure.

Neil was an odd one. He took so much pleasure in the simplest, silliest things that it had unintended side effects, such as making him a convincing actor. With a practiced but subtle bow, he held out his arm for her to take. "I would be delighted to escort you, m'lady." he said, his Kentish accent surprisingly well polished. His smile showed it was both a jest, but also an honest proposal simultaneously.

Although not fully understanding the purpose of his switched accent and jovial manner, Lyra smiled in amusement anyway as she took his arm. Neil seemed to be a good balance between kind and humourous - she had hopes they could be friends. Well, by the way he was describing himself, she'd likely be spending lots of time with anyway - just to get him out of trouble.

The Ensign currently sat at the operations station on the bridge of Orion was a young woman called Grace Beck and while the ship was in drydock and the tactical station was not yet occupied comm duty fell to her. By the time the Commander had said "Open A channel to..." she had already accessed the list of likely recipients generated by the computer and was quick to select CMU 067 when the order was complete

"Channel open, Sir." she replied quickly

Nick was impressed by the efficiency of the Ensign at ops and made a mental note to keep an eye on her.

"Work bee sixty seven, please complete your task and return to the shuttle bay promply and prepare for departure." He closed the channel from the console on his arm rest. "New channel Ensign, to all shuttles and shuttle bays"

Ensign Beck tapped at her console. This command tool a little longer but it was not long before she called again "Channel open, Sir"

"All shuttles should be on thier final aproaches from the surface, all bays be ready to depart A.S.A.P." He tapped the close channel command again. "Ok helm, when the shuttles are ready and the Captain is on the bridge we will be departing with all haste to Vulcan. Please prepare 'warp acceleration curve Vulcan Alpha' and make sure engineering knows you plan to be flying fast"

He tapped a few more controls to and seen the Conn. Officer's confusion pass as the flight plan Nick had worked out arrived at the helm console. It was designed to get the most out of the engines by accelerating up to the ship's max warp of 9.6 for 15 hours and then gradually decearating at the slowest rate posible for the engines not fail. It would get them to vulcan in the fastest posible time and would have to be handled by the computer for the most part. Most ships traveled at whole numbered warp factors or common fractions of them, this flight plan required more fine deceleration than that. He knew it would work, he had done the maths. ((I however have not done the maths yet but will edit in the flight time when I do get it done.))

Sta'l wiped the side of his face with a napkin and sat back in his chair as he looked down at the remains of the Rokeg blood pie that he had found surprisingly good and at the remains of the Denevan plum pudding which while good, simply wasn't as good as his mother's recipe. Note to self: Continue tweaking the replicator. Eventually I'll get it right. Should see if I can get some other klingon recipes programmed in this thing. Maybe Heart of targ. He thought to himself as he looked at the time and saw that he was due to be in engineering in a few minutes.

The Romulan rose to his feet and headed for the door and a few moments later found himself in the turbo-lift. "Main Engineering." He said simply. The lift began to move and Sta'l began to think about his duty shift even as the lift made an odd whistling noise that subsided after a few moments. Note to self: Find out what that was. He thought as he stepped out of the turbo-lift and headed down the corridor and into main engineering.

Ahhhh...my home away from home, He thought with a smile as he took a quick look at the nearby terminals and saw nothing amiss.

Jovar stopped at Main Engineering before heading up to the Bridge. He found Lieutenant Haliv there. "Could you run a diagnostic check on the port side ventral phaser emitter?"Jovar asked, then stated, "It has been acting strange. I'll be on the bridge. Let me know what you find, thank you."

Jovar left engineering and headed for the turbo-lift. He stepped aboard with a Petty Officer who worked in Engineering. "Bridge," Lieutenant Jovar announced, then looked at the crewman. Their eyes met briefly, then Jovar looked away.

The doors opened with a swoosh and the Lieutenant strode onto the bridge to take his position at Tactical, behind the Commander's chair. The Engineering crewman took a seat at Engineering behind Lieutenant Jovar. Once in position, he checked his displays for weapon status, sensors and communications. Then he looked down at Commander Tylin. "Commander, the port side ventral phaser emitter has been acting strange. I have asked Lieutenant Haliv in Engineering to run a diagnostics check on it. All other systems are working within normal parameters."

She remembered hoping the transporter didn't put her molecules back together the right way. That maybe it would get caught in some space/time anomaly and instead of showing up on the USS Orion, on this day, she'd show up...a day earlier. A week earlier. A war earlier. Whenever just so long as it wasn't today, and her father was still alive. That's all she wanted. That's all she hoped for, as she waited for the Orion's transporters to reach out, identify, and deconstruct her. Call it a last prayer for this exact version of her, molecularly speaking.

It was a prayer that, like all other prayers before it in her life, went unanswered--her eyes opened and there she was. Standing on the transporter pad, numb, hurt, and desperately losing herself in every ounce of Vulcan logic and the proper channeling of emotions. She hadn't shown up at Starfleet Command in uniform, and so she wasn't in it now: she wore light gray slacks that were low waisted and tight fitting, the top was Vulcan sand silk and likewise light gray with a shimmer of sparkle when in direct light, cut sleeveless and with a neck that tumbled. Her dark hair fell to her shoulders in tumbles that shined with softness almost as much as the sand silk.

When she stepped off and transporter officer stood to greet her, she heard the Vulcan respond with a simple, detatched, "Ensign." Everyone else along the way to the bridge simply got nods. Even when the turbolift doors hissed and the bridge opened up before her, she felt little and less. She had been on the bridge just hours before the meeting at Command interrupted her originally planned meeting. But somehow those hours had become lifetimes.

At least, a single lifetime. Her father's.

FIB was waiting for her outside Starfleet Command, to tell her what very little they could tell her. They knew where she was; they knew where the Orion was. The two were not separate--where she was, the Orion was, where the Orion was, she was. It had been that way since the very day she was named it's Commanding Officer. She found herself stepping onto the bridge in grey high heeled boots that were noiseless on the soft floor of the bridge, suddenly glad of the Orion and it's mission in a brand new way.

Vulcan was where she had to go. For the Orion and it's mission, and now, for personal reasons. Void as her outward image was of any visible hint of emotion, there was the barest, slightest, hint of a tone when she finally spoke, approaching the command chair: "Get us going, CONN." A hint of determination, and maybe if you listened hard enough, a hint of darkness.

The V'Shar had the answers she needed. They would give them to her. Or else. She could do so within the bounds of her duty to the Orion, she was certain of it. Even if that meant furiously working the private comm channels--and no one had better access to external communications than Captain Vaella. Let alone the tall task of even trying to decrypt her ingoing and outgoing private comms even if you did want to peek. She was a tech whiz combined with Intelligence training and experience; best of luck.

The only security weakness there was the person she corresponded with, and Charlie was a better bet for a secure encryption than even she was. The nerd. The message she had sent was simple, it was text, and it was three characters:

SOS

When the XO moved to lift himself from her seat, she lifted her hand, palm out. "I need to change. Alert me if anything happens. Keep a sharp eye on all sensor readings." There is no safe space. There hadn't been since the start of the war. San Francisco had done a beautiful job getting itself up and running after the Breen attack, but it was still hurting. Inside, and out.

She could relate with one of those. Without another word she turned on her heel and made for her Ready Room. Inside was her uniform, laid out on the couch. On the desk was her console--and it was blinking.

"Could you run a diagnostic check on the port side ventral phaser emitter?"Jovar asked, then stated, "It has been acting strange. I'll be on the bridge. Let me know what you find, thank you."

Sta'l saluted Lieutenant Jovar as he made made the request and then left Main Engineering. "Yes sir." He said loudly enough so that hopefully Jovar would hear him before he was out of range. Sta'l immediately walked over to a console and began running the diagnostic check on the phaser emitter. After a few moments, he saw what the problem was.

What the...how did this happen?!

The phaser emitter had somehow overheated and caused the covering on it to melt slightly while also damaging the emitter itself. From the information he was getting from the diagnostic it looked as if it had happened a day or two ago. It should be easy enough to repair.

"Haliv to Lieutenant Jovar. I think I've found the problem. Somehow the emitter overheated and it ended up damaging the covering of the emitter and the emitter itself. Still trying to figure out why it overheated but it shouldn't take too long to repair."