Season 1, Mission 06: Lifeline

[Alexander Clarke]

Captain's Log, Stardate 66142.35

After several days of recovery in Sickbay, I have resumed command of Churchill. Despite my anticipation of some sort of debriefing or special medical examination after my ordeal with the pirates, Starfleet Command brushed aside my concerns of potentially not being fit for duty, instead insisting that I return to my duties as soon as possible. I have no idea why they were so intent on reinstating me, especially Admiral T'Por; Commander Cortez has handled the ship quite well in my absence and has in fact captained it for longer than I have. Their line of reasoning was something along the lines of "my doubts in my competence and ability to serve was a sign that I had not been tampered with by the pirates and thus should remain in command." They're also simply betting that I'll be removed from command either voluntarily or involuntarily if something does go wrong. I'm beginning to wonder just how short handed Starfleet is if someone in my position can retain their command without a more thorough vetting.

Clarke stared out the window of his dimly-lit ready room, watching as cargo ships, runabouts, and the occasional Starfleet ship passed by. The Churchill had been in dock at the Proxima Maintenance Yards for a couple of days now, just long enough for the ship to go through some long-delayed maintenance and for Clarke to get examined with equipment that was more heavy-duty than what was on board the ship. Somehow, in spite of the condition he was found in, Clarke had gotten a clean bill of health and was cleared to return to duty.

That didn't give Clarke any comfort. He was unable to account for several months of time and only had vague recollections of some half-forgotten dream involving Jo to show for it. He would have to somehow get his siblings delayed birthday presents. Starfleet Command seemed to have ignored his disappearance and was shrugging at his return. The research files recovered from Farok III sat undelivered in Cargo Bay One, though carefully hidden from prying eyes. They would somehow have to locate its intended recipient--

Clarke paused and backtracked his thoughts. Get his siblings birthday presents? He hadn't spoken with any of them for years now, much less sent them a gift. Yet it felt like a natural thought to Clarke; he wouldn't have caught the slip if it wasn't for the thoughts on how to deliver the research package.

Before Clarke could follow his train of thought through, his monitor began beeping. Clarke pivoted away from the window and moved quickly to sit at his desk. After settling himself in--for maybe the fifth time in his life--Clarke turned on the screen. Admiral Peterson appeared, looking rather disgruntled.

"Captain, I trust you've been briefed on the current state of affairs," Peterson said.

"Unfortunately, Admiral, I have not," Clarke said cautiously. "Is there something I should be aware of?"

A vein in Peterson's forehead seemed to bulge slightly at Clarke's reply. "The Federation is on the brink of famine and you, the captain of a Starfleet ship, haven't even heard about it?"

Clarke weighed how beneficial it might be to remind Peterson that he had been captured and held against his will for the past few months. Deciding that he didn't want to be responsible if the man burst a blood vessel, Clarke remained silent and waited for Peterson to continue.

After a few moments, the vein subsided a little and Peterson spoke. "I apologize. Starfleet Intelligence has been hounding me to send more ships to Procyon, insisting that the pirates will manage to strike shipping lanes in or near the system. The pirates are already picking off cargo ships and freighters in disturbingly high numbers near border worlds and colonies, pushing many to the point of near collapse. But Procyon? We're talking about the heart of the Federation. Nothing can get that far without us having knowing about it for days. But what do I know? I have direct orders from the Chief of Starfleet Intelligence herself to send a ship to patrol Procyon. I'm picking the Churchill since you'll be able to get to somewhere where you're needed the fastest once this delusion is over with."

Clarke refrained from commenting during Peterson's remarks, waiting until the end before speaking. "So my orders are to patrol Procyon's shipping lanes until further notice?"

Peterson gave Clarke a nod and said, "It shouldn't be too long, you only need to satisfy Intelligence and they're a fickle bunch. If you ask me, this is just their way of passing the buck on the pirate issue. Just because they still haven't figured out who's leading the pirates doesn't mean they get to make up fake threats to maintain their credibility. But you didn't hear that from me and you have your orders. Peterson out."

Once the monitor dimmed, Clarke sat back in his chair and let go of a breath he didn't realize he was holding. At the very least, patrolling a secured should be an easy transition back into command.

[ThomasRiker]

Masters stood in front of the mirror in his quarters, looking at the new pip on his uniform. He found it funny that while he had gained a rank promostion, he had once again gone back to being a non department head as Reece is no longer the acting XO. He could see his wife sitting in the living room looking at him and he gave her a brief smile. "Off to work again" he said to her with a bit of aprehention, it wasn't all that long ago that he had practically called Commander Cortez incompetant right on the bridge. He walked past her, hugging her for a moment and kissing the top of her head. He always loved the smell of her hair, and for a moment he contiplated skipping his dutyshift, but that wouldn't do.

Masters went to the smaller more compact office near Reece's which he no longer occupied. He was fine with it though, a smaller office took up less resources and he didn't have much that he needed in there, out side of the computer and a small weapons locker that held both standard and a few personal weapons. He took a moment to look over the duty logs from the previous shift and check his messages. He spent twenty minutes just doing his busy work, then headed for the bridge and relieved the ensign that was manning the tactical board.

With a few button pushes he took primary weapons and defensive systems offline to start running some comprehensive diognostics. One of the advantages of being at a spacedock, was he didn't need to worry about an attack. He set paremeters to do much more indepth checks than what was called for, but he didn't like the thought of going into battle with shields and weapons after the spacedock personell had been monkeying around with them. They were good at getting things done, but fine tuning and fine tunning, he would rather handle. They weren't the ones that could live or die from if they failed or were misaligned.

[cortez]

Captain's Log, Stardate 66142.35

After several days of recovery in Sickbay, I have resumed command of Churchill. Despite my anticipation of some sort of debriefing or special medical examination after my ordeal with the pirates, Starfleet Command brushed aside my concerns of potentially not being fit for duty, instead insisting that I return to my duties as soon as possible. I have no idea why they were so intent on reinstating me, especially Admiral T'Por; Commander Cortez has handled the ship quite well in my absence and has in fact captained it for longer than I have. Their line of reasoning was something along the lines of "my doubts in my competence and ability to serve was a sign that I had not been tampered with by the pirates and thus should remain in command." They're also simply betting that I'll be removed from command either voluntarily or involuntarily if something does go wrong. I'm beginning to wonder just how short handed Starfleet is if someone in my position can retain their command without a more thorough vetting.

Clarke stared out the window of his dimly-lit ready room, watching as cargo ships, runabouts, and the occasional Starfleet ship passed by. The Churchill had been in dock at the Proxima Maintenance Yards for a couple of days now, just long enough for the ship to go through some long-delayed maintenance and for Clarke to get examined with equipment that was more heavy-duty than what was on board the ship. Somehow, in spite of the condition he was found in, Clarke had gotten a clean bill of health and was cleared to return to duty.

That didn't give Clarke any comfort. He was unable to account for several months of time and only had vague recollections of some half-forgotten dream involving Jo to show for it. He would have to somehow get his siblings delayed birthday presents. Starfleet Command seemed to have ignored his disappearance and was shrugging at his return. The research files recovered from Farok III sat undelivered in Cargo Bay One, though carefully hidden from prying eyes. They would somehow have to locate its intended recipient--

Clarke paused and backtracked his thoughts. Get his siblings birthday presents? He hadn't spoken with any of them for years now, much less sent them a gift. Yet it felt like a natural thought to Clarke; he wouldn't have caught the slip if it wasn't for the thoughts on how to deliver the research package.

Before Clarke could follow his train of thought through, his monitor began beeping. Clarke pivoted away from the window and moved quickly to sit at his desk. After settling himself in--for maybe the fifth time in his life--Clarke turned on the screen. Admiral Peterson appeared, looking rather disgruntled.

"Captain, I trust you've been briefed on the current state of affairs," Peterson said.

"Unfortunately, Admiral, I have not," Clarke said cautiously. "Is there something I should be aware of?"

A vein in Peterson's forehead seemed to bulge slightly at Clarke's reply. "The Federation is on the brink of famine and you, the captain of a Starfleet ship, haven't even heard about it?"

Clarke weighed how beneficial it might be to remind Peterson that he had been captured and held against his will for the past few months. Deciding that he didn't want to be responsible if the man burst a blood vessel, Clarke remained silent and waited for Peterson to continue.

After a few moments, the vein subsided a little and Peterson spoke. "I apologize. Starfleet Intelligence has been hounding me to send more ships to Procyon, insisting that the pirates will manage to strike shipping lanes in or near the system. The pirates are already picking off cargo ships and freighters in disturbingly high numbers near border worlds and colonies, pushing many to the point of near collapse. But Procyon? We're talking about the heart of the Federation. Nothing can get that far without us having knowing about it for days. But what do I know? I have direct orders from the Chief of Starfleet Intelligence herself to send a ship to patrol Procyon. I'm picking the Churchill since you'll be able to get to somewhere where you're needed the fastest once this delusion is over with."

Clarke refrained from commenting during Peterson's remarks, waiting until the end before speaking. "So my orders are to patrol Procyon's shipping lanes until further notice?"

Peterson gave Clarke a nod and said, "It shouldn't be too long, you only need to satisfy Intelligence and they're a fickle bunch. If you ask me, this is just their way of passing the buck on the pirate issue. Just because they still haven't figured out who's leading the pirates doesn't mean they get to make up fake threats to maintain their credibility. But you didn't hear that from me and you have your orders. Peterson out."

Once the monitor dimmed, Clarke sat back in his chair and let go of a breath he didn't realize he was holding. At the very least, patrolling a secured should be an easy transition back into command.

Cortez was on the bridge, overseeing the repairs and general maintenance that had grounded the Churchill for the past two days. It was tedious, but important, work. Should anything go wrong in the heat of battle, he didn't want to be the one to blame because he overlooked an error.

"Thank you"  he said, as a young crewman handed him a data PADD.

The contents appeared to show the status of repairs to the ship, currently at eighty-nine percent of completion. By Cortez' estimation, they should be out of drydock within the next day or two. Deciding he would check in with the Commander, Cortez headed for the ready room and pressed the chime awaiting a response.

[Lance Krol]

Lance sat in a room made of pure checkered marble and played the piano. It wasn't a particularly original or even obscure piece ââ,¬â€œ Gymnopedie No.2 had been famous amongst music lovers for centuries. Slow, easy to play, soothing. It was easier than playing chess, his equivalent of a gentle run down a country lane. He kept his eyes closed and let the music flow, then stopped when he realized how stupid he looked. It was a common thing to do, but he preferred to see his hand rather than rely on muscle memory and cybernetics to work it. Slowly, he worked his way through the song, taking care to watch his cybernetic hand for any slips or bumps. He didn't really trust it, and he hadn't gotten used to it after six months of consciousness.

Playing instruments usually gave him time to think, but this time his head was buzzing too much for anything of note to pass through. His main thought was that he had been promoted. Again. What a day. Still, maybe he'd be able to finally meet his captain instead of reporting to a surrogate. Not that he even knew he was reporting to a surrogate. He wasn't aware until he was basically told that the man in cryo who was now running their ship was Alexander Clarke, their glorious leader.
He slowly ground to a halt and stood up. Walking with his slight limp out of the holodeck, the simulation dissolved around him and he stepped into the hallway, making his way towards the bridge. It was going to be another long day.

[Taras Cadenza]

The mind of Taras Cadenza was a fickle one. Often confused. Often lonely. Often as happy as a clam. But almost definitely relieved at this present moment in time. The ship's original captain was safe and sound, and everything was starting to look up.

Of course, everything still had its dangers. It would be foolish to even think that the journey was going to get any less difficult from here on out. Still, one could dream. That is, when one isn't battling insomnia once every three nights. This is still ONE DAY for me, inner monologue! One! Bloody! Long! Day!

Resisting the temptation the make a detour to the holodeck and simulate a warp core breach on a shuttle in an attempt to wake himself up, he eventually calmed down. It was time to head to the bridge anyway. He had yet to properly meet his new-ish Captain, so seemed like a good enough time to think about it. Maybe even do it.

Bah, I've got plenty of- oh.

His thought process snapped like a pencil as he found himself literally one centimetre away from bumping into the back of Lance Krol. He instantly jumped back, and walked alongside. "Ahh, Lance!" he smiled, a more put-on smile than usual. Understandable considering that he felt like he had gone a few rounds with a Klingon wrestler.

"Congratulations on your new, and rather speedy promotion... I guess I'm going to have to start calling you "sir"." he laughed.

It would be funny if it weren't so inspiring. lamented Cadenza, remembering that Lance was the only person in the entire ship to both underrank and and outrank him in the space of a few months. Something that he couldn't quite help not being in awe of.

[ThomasRiker]

Masters continued running his scans, fixing and tweaking every area that he could identify. He refused to give Cortez the satisfaction of finding any fault with his systems. He noticed a light flashing indicating a message from Starfleet. He opened it and found it to be a low-level report. One of the fleets communication grids showed some odd sensor reasons readings. As no ships were detected though, they weren't requesting assistance at this time, but something seemed of about it to him, almost familiar.

With no orders though, and no actual insight, he filled it into a report and gave it to Commander Cortez. He also took the time to pull the sensor logs and sent them to Inzjana. Perhaps she might be able to figure out what it might be. But then again, as a Vulcan she might not see logic in it. It was not that big of a deal though, it was worth a shot.

[T'Ra Jones]

T'Ra twirled a luscious green apple in her hand as she sat on her bed. She then tossed it a couple times, watching the apple intensely as it flew up and down. Finally, it landed with a thud on the floor. What goes up must come down, she thought. That had always been one of her favorite laws of physics. Physics was comforting. It was something that could be defined and easily applied once again.

Another thought entered uninvited to her normally disciplined mind.What comes in must go out. She glanced briefly at the door but quickly returned her focus to the apple, which still lay on the floor. Although this thought did not pertain to physics, it was never the less true. Nervous and not sure how to interact with the others, T'Ra had spent most of the day in her quarters. True, she'd have to go out there eventually, she just wasn't prepared.

You're a Vulcan, she thought to herself, get a grip! But it would be hard for her to get a grip on something that was just so... illogical. Unlike physics, emotions did not always follow a logical pattern, nor did the butterflies that fluttered hopelessly in her stomach. She wished that her friend Buehler was with her to help her get through her first few days on a starship. He had been such a great help to her while she was at the Academy, but alas, he had been assigned elsewhere. It was not the loneliness that she feared, it was the great unknown that awaited her outside the door.

Still moping, T'Ra picked up the apple and briskly rubbed it on her sleeve to wipe off the dirt. She held the apple about a hand's width from her face. The apple, she began to think, also represented the great unknown. Could you tell just by looking at it if it tasted pure and sweet? No, however, you should not let that stop you from trying, from taking the risk. How could you learn if you did not take a little risk every now and then. You learn from experience, which would be nonexistent if you were afraid to try.

T'Ra had mulled over all these thoughts in her mind, finally coming to she found to be a logical conclusion. She stood and intently walked toward the door, but she stopped midway. Petrified, she stared at the door and then spun around to sit back down on her bed. She knew it was only a matter of time before her shift started, but she hoped that someone would come save her from her solitude before then.

[Alexander Clarke]

Cortez was on the bridge, overseeing the repairs and general maintenance that had grounded the Churchill for the past two days. It was tedious, but important, work. Should anything go wrong in the heat of battle, he didn't want to be the one to blame because he overlooked an error.

"Thank you"  he said, as a young crewman handed him a data PADD.

The contents appeared to show the status of repairs to the ship, currently at eighty-nine percent of completion. By Cortez' estimation, they should be out of drydock within the next day or two. Deciding he would check in with the Commander, Cortez headed for the ready room and pressed the chime awaiting a response.

"Come in," said Clarke, putting aside a PADD containing the most up-to-date news on the Federation and Starfleet--that he had the security clearance for, anyway. There was quite a bit to catch up on, unsurprisingly, but what Clarke found the most interesting--and the most suspect--was how rapidly the pirate situation had escalated. Though kidnapping a Starfleet captain from the bridge of his own ship in full sight of his crew was a feat in and of itself, the scope of the attacks was far exceeding anything that had been done by the Maquis.

When Cortez walked in, Clarke gave him a grin and said, "I suppose it's a bit of a relief for you, not having to sit in this chair anymore. You didn't even put a single desk ornament on here or hang a painting off the walls. I'm not sure if that shows an incredible degree of self-restraint or a fanatical devotion to minimalism. Or maybe you were worried I would like something enough to keep it."

Clarke waved Cortez towards the couches by the window as he stood up and walked to the replicator by his desk. "Do you want anything before we start? I can't promise a short conversation."

[Zuriel Soreka]

The mind of Taras Cadenza was a fickle one. Often confused. Often lonely. Often as happy as a clam. But almost definitely relieved at this present moment in time. The ship's original captain was safe and sound, and everything was starting to look up.

Of course, everything still had its dangers. It would be foolish to even think that the journey was going to get any less difficult from here on out. Still, one could dream. That is, when one isn't battling insomnia once every three nights. This is still ONE DAY for me, inner monologue! One! Bloody! Long! Day!

Resisting the temptation the make a detour to the holodeck and simulate a warp core breach on a shuttle in an attempt to wake himself up, he eventually calmed down. It was time to head to the bridge anyway. He had yet to properly meet his new-ish Captain, so seemed like a good enough time to think about it. Maybe even do it.

Bah, I've got plenty of- oh.

His thought process snapped like a pencil as he found himself literally one centimetre away from bumping into the back of Lance Krol. He instantly jumped back, and walked alongside. "Ahh, Lance!" he smiled, a more put-on smile than usual. Understandable considering that he felt like he had gone a few rounds with a Klingon wrestler.

"Congratulations on your new, and rather speedy promotion... I guess I'm going to have to start calling you "sir"." he laughed.

It would be funny if it weren't so inspiring. lamented Cadenza, remembering that Lance was the only person in the entire ship to both underrank and and outrank him in the space of a few months. Something that he couldn't quite help not being in awe of.

It had been over three days, and at this point, if anyone mentioned anything about a warp coil or a dilithium chamber, he would have to stop himself from strangling them. Even Zuriel himself would admit he was overworking himself to make a good impression on his superiors, but this time he had gone a bit too far. Almost three full days without sleep, Zuriel lumbered to his quarters thanking the heavens that he could finally sleep, falling into his bed he didn't even bother to take off his uniform. His mind melting into the distant hum of the engines, Zuriel was soon fast asleep.
Much to his dismay, Zuriel found his dreams populated by equations and ghoulish images of Anti-matter chambers, i was if he would have to relive the past three days all over again., he awoke in a fright to find  his communicator going off. "Sorry to bother you sir but we are about to bring the anti matter field back online, you requested me to contact you?"
Zuriel rubbed hie eyes, rolling over he tapped his communicator on, "Yes....yes, thank you ill be right there..." He could have kicked himself for saying such a foolish thing, but  he just wanted to make sure everything went smoothly, and if there was a problem  he could help the team handle it.

Making his way  out of his quarters he continued to rub his eyes as he made his way to deck 15. "Computer how long was I asleep?"

"Five hours, thirty three minutes, 43 seconds." Zuriel shugged his shoulders, that was much more then he planned on having so he counted himself lucky. Once on deck fifteen Zuriel joined his team who  had congregated around the antimatter containment field, " There you are sir, we are ready to  stress test the  containment field, if all goes well we will be able to return the antimatter back in momentarily, "Very well proceed crewmen, ill man the emergency systems." Zuriel said nodding his head taking his place up the latter and on the antimatter ejection panel, a few minutes later the loud thump of the fields pressurization echoed through the area. From what Zureil or his team could see there was no leak, they had finally done it. 'Well done! well done all of you, let engineering  know we  have the antimatter containment field back online, and that they are free to flood the chamber once they have the power conduits patched up."

There was a moment of cheering and applause, Zuriel slid down the latter and shook hands with his more than capable team, he had nothing but good feeling since  he came aboard this ship and this would not change that a bit, the only thing that remain was to report in. " Flight Control to Lt. Candaza, The antimatter Containment field is back online, we should have warp capabilities back in a day or so." Zuriel decided to take this conversation the run to his next destination, "Sir where are you going?", Zuriel stopped and turned around with a happy grin on his face, "To sleep Mr. Marcin, I suggest you do the same,  that goes for all of you. While we still have the chance to." The turbo lift doors closed, Zuriel instructed  it to take him back to deck three, where he would hopefully get  another good chunk of sleep.

Entering his room Zuriel took the time to take off his uniform, he hoped it would make sleeping a bit easier, sinking into his bed, and closing his eyes Zuriel once again rewarded his hard work with the back of his eye lids.

[Lance Krol]

The mind of Taras Cadenza was a fickle one. Often confused. Often lonely. Often as happy as a clam. But almost definitely relieved at this present moment in time. The ship's original captain was safe and sound, and everything was starting to look up.

Of course, everything still had its dangers. It would be foolish to even think that the journey was going to get any less difficult from here on out. Still, one could dream. That is, when one isn't battling insomnia once every three nights. This is still ONE DAY for me, inner monologue! One! Bloody! Long! Day!

Resisting the temptation the make a detour to the holodeck and simulate a warp core breach on a shuttle in an attempt to wake himself up, he eventually calmed down. It was time to head to the bridge anyway. He had yet to properly meet his new-ish Captain, so seemed like a good enough time to think about it. Maybe even do it.

Bah, I've got plenty of- oh.

His thought process snapped like a pencil as he found himself literally one centimetre away from bumping into the back of Lance Krol. He instantly jumped back, and walked alongside. "Ahh, Lance!" he smiled, a more put-on smile than usual. Understandable considering that he felt like he had gone a few rounds with a Klingon wrestler.

"Congratulations on your new, and rather speedy promotion... I guess I'm going to have to start calling you "sir"." he laughed.

It would be funny if it weren't so inspiring. lamented Cadenza, remembering that Lance was the only person in the entire ship to both underrank and and outrank him in the space of a few months. Something that he couldn't quite help not being in awe of.

Lance looked up quickly, then smiled slightly and half-heartedly at Taras. "Yeah, I guess..." then he thought about it. Taras seemed like a good guy, and he had been friendly thus far. Maybe he'd finally found someone who would take his at face value. "Actually, no, don't. Call me Lance. You're the only one that does," and extended his hand to his new subordinate. He hoped he wasn't being weird, though that was usually an impossibility.

[cortez]

"Come in," said Clarke, putting aside a PADD containing the most up-to-date news on the Federation and Starfleet--that he had the security clearance for, anyway. There was quite a bit to catch up on, unsurprisingly, but what Clarke found the most interesting--and the most suspect--was how rapidly the pirate situation had escalated. Though kidnapping a Starfleet captain from the bridge of his own ship in full sight of his crew was a feat in and of itself, the scope of the attacks was far exceeding anything that had been done by the Maquis.

When Cortez walked in, Clarke gave him a grin and said, "I suppose it's a bit of a relief for you, not having to sit in this chair anymore. You didn't even put a single desk ornament on here or hang a painting off the walls. I'm not sure if that shows an incredible degree of self-restraint or a fanatical devotion to minimalism. Or maybe you were worried I would like something enough to keep it."

Clarke waved Cortez towards the couches by the window as he stood up and walked to the replicator by his desk. "Do you want anything before we start? I can't promise a short conversation."

Cortez smiled.

"A relief. Yes, sir. I'm just we have you back"  he replied, with a grin on his face.  "As for the replicator, I'm fine thank you. I just finished a mug of Albarian Cocoa.

Cortez stepped further into the room and extended his arm containing the data PADD that had been given to him just moments earlier.

"Repairs and maintenance are coming along well. Engineering estimates we should be ready to depart somewhere in the region of twenty-four to forty-eight hours time, sir."

[ThomasRiker]

Cortez smiled.

"A relief. Yes, sir. I'm just we have you back"  he replied, with a grin on his face.  "As for the replicator, I'm fine thank you. I just finished a mug of Albarian Cocoa.

Cortez stepped further into the room and extended his arm containing the data PADD that had been given to him just moments earlier.

"Repairs and maintenance are coming along well. Engineering estimates we should be ready to depart somewhere in the region of twenty-four to forty-eight hours time, sir."

Masters stood at his station looking over the readouts of the diagnostic. He began seeing a small surge in one of the phaser relays, and feared a feed back loop. He went through a couple routines in attempt to clear it, but had no success. =/Masters to lt. krol, could you have someone look at the forward phaser relay? I grieve there is some sort of malfunction with it.=\ he said to the head engineer.

[Dustin J. Guidry]

Dustin was in his quarters, sitting behind his desk. His eyes were glued to the monitor, which was displaying the outline and quickest routes to different points of the ship. He has just been assigned to the churchhill and was going over some security routes that he needed to memorize. But the fact that he wasn't set to go on duty for another six hours, he finished the routes rather quickly. The few years he spent in Intell/Spec Ops. unit, made it very easy to have a photo memory. He got up from his desk quickly, now that boredom he quickly driving him insane. He headed for the door, he had to get out of that room. He made his way to the turbo lift, he stepped inside and called for a deck."Deck five." he said then the turbo lift began to hum, as it moved along the route. Once the turbo lift came to s stop, the doors slid open and dustin steeped out.Dustin walked into holodeck two, he looked around and was about to speak but stopped himself. He forgot for only a minute that he was on a new ship, heed have to get used of it being the same class star ship but a totally different place.

"Computer has the holodeck program GuidryA6 been uploaded to the holodeck library?" asked dustin while standing in the middle of the room." There are no files are programs matching your description currently in the holodeck main frame." Came the computer with a quick reply."Computer Arc." with that being said a Arc, with data panels appeared just to the left of him.He hit in a few commands and waited, for the screen to show what he was looking for. But to his dismay the screen simply told him that the files that he was hoping to use, wasn't anywhere on the ships computer."Computer I need a better station, So I may be able to access larger amounts of information."With that being said the arc went away, A full size station took its place in the middle of the room. Dustin walked over to it, and stood next to the main display screen. He knew that the files that he is looking for are not on the ship, but perhaps they simply got sent to the wrong destination. He used the station to link up with the starbase's computer main frame, he did a library wide search for any of his programs. He didn't understand why his old team mates hadn't sent all of his belongings, they probably did this as some type of cruel punishment for him leaving the team."Computer begin random tactical hand to hand combat advanced level six". The computer gave a beep, the station faded out and the room turned into a empty common room. Then opponents from random races began to forum as the training got under way."Computer increase hologram's strength and speed by 15 percent after every completed round." The computer gave another chirp as the program got under way.

[Taras Cadenza]

Lance looked up quickly, then smiled slightly and half-heartedly at Taras. "Yeah, I guess..." then he thought about it. Taras seemed like a good guy, and he had been friendly thus far. Maybe he'd finally found someone who would take his at face value. "Actually, no, don't. Call me Lance. You're the only one that does," and extended his hand to his new subordinate. He hoped he wasn't being weird, though that was usually an impossibility.

Taras' face lit up slightly. Nice to see that the new-found power hasn't gone to his head.

He took the hand of his now-superior and shook it firmly. Ahh... I long for the day I can bare two golden pips on my collar.

"Now... perhaps we can finally meet our "new" captain." he stated, as he gestured in the direction of the Turbolift. "Mr. Soreka told me that Warp Drive will be back up in a day... so we'll have plenty of time."

[Lance Krol]

Taras' face lit up slightly. Nice to see that the new-found power hasn't gone to his head.

He took the hand of his now-superior and shook it firmly. Ahh... I long for the day I can bare two golden pips on my collar.

"Now... perhaps we can finally meet our "new" captain." he stated, as he gestured in the direction of the Turbolift. "Mr. Soreka told me that Warp Drive will be back up in a day... so we'll have plenty of time."

Lance looked puzzled slightly, then dismissed this Mr. Soreka as some irrelevant nobody for the time being. He kept walking, with Taras trailing slightly behind him, then beside him. He didn't feel like talking, but social rules seemed to demand it, so he enquired "So, how's life been?" in a flat voice.