Summary: As the Minoru prepares to depart for its first patrol following a refit, the new commander and crew come aboard and settle in.

ON: [Horizon Fleet DPA offices, Starbase 386 - Three weeks Ago]

For the third time in twenty minutes, Ash approached the outer door of the Department of Personnel and Awards. He had already passed by it twice, once by accident as he tried to find his way around the unfamiliar Cardassian-built station and a second time while trying to work his nerve up to go inside. Fortunately he had planned ahead and left his guest quarters early in anticipation of just those sort of delays. He knew that it was silly to act like an academy cadet facing his first bridge simulation or about to defend his senior thesis, but he couldn't help it. He had worked himself to the bone for two years in order become Mariner's chief engineer, first at the Academy for retraining and then during the ship's modernization refit, and now the rug had been yanked right out from under him. The ugly rumors flying about the reasons for the torrent of personnel transfers didn't help inspire confidence, either; for all he knew, he was about to get a pat on the head and a reassignment to a safe, boring outpost on some ice planet, out of sight and out of mind as far as the rest of Starfleet was concerned.

Still, wallowing in self-pity wasn't going to do Ash any good, nor change whatever was in store for him. Realistically the worst that would happen was reassignment as some ship's assistant chief engineer, and while it might bruise his ego he'd still be in space and in a position to eventually move up again.

Ash squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped inside the DPA offices. Cardassian architecture aside, it wasn't different than any other such office he'd ever been in. He nodded politely to the receptionist or PA sitting at a desk in front of him.

"Good morning," he said. "I'm Ashton Griffith. I have an appointment with Admiral Livian."

The young Betazoid gave him a welcoming smile, "Good morning, Mr. Griffith. Let me just contact the Admiral." Kaela pushed a small button on her console, "Admiral Livian, Mr. Griffith is here."

[Livian's Office]

"Send him in," Kailani said as she set aside the PADD she'd been working on and pulled out the one for Ashton. Folding her hands in front of her on the desk, she waited for him to come in.

Ash entered the office and stepped in front of the admiral's desk, settling into parade rest posture as he did. "Lieutenant Commander Ashton Griffith, reporting as ordered, ma'am."

Kailani gave him a brief smile, "Good morning, Commander. Have a seat."

"Thank you, ma'am," he replied.

"You've had a rather...unique history in StarFleet, Commander. I imagine it can't be easy to suddenly find yourself over a hundred years in the future," Kailani said. She kept her tone even so as to not sound like she pitied him, but with compassion. If she had been in the same situation, Kailani wasn't sure what how she would take it.

"No, ma'am, it hasn't been easy," Ash said with only a slight hesitation. It was a familiar statement by that point, and he'd long since moved on from the time where it would have automatically irritated him. "I like to remind myself that it could have been worse, though. For one thing, I'm not unique; there's four hundred of us, so at least I didn't go through it alone, and unlike some people I didn't leave a spouse or children behind. It helped that Starfleet's retraining programs kept me busy, too."

Kailani nodded silently. She didn't want the entire conversation to revolve around the past, but still, it was something important. "Where do you see your career going, Lieutenant? Are there any goals you have in particular?"

"In all honesty, ma'am, I was pretty happy where I was. Even on a small ship, chief engineer is a fairly good position for someone my age," Ash said, a frown flashing across his face for a moment before he schooled his expression. "Sure, I'd hoped to move on to a larger ship some day, and eventually even have a command of my own, but I had thought it'd be a while before that happened." He shrugged and then gave the admiral a wry smile. "I guess I actually have a better idea of where I might be in five years than I do about next week."

"You're not the only one," Kailani replied with a smile. "Overall, it seems to be much easier to have your end goal in sight than to imagine all the steps leading up to it. Some instead choose to simply remain in the present, so to speak - they don't worry about their future, just about what they're doing now. There's no right or wrong answer, and besides, one never knows when a good opportunity may arise that could alter your path."

"I suppose there's some truth to that, but I'm an engineer by trade, ma'am," Ash said. "We like to have plans and checklists to work with, even if we know we'll probably have to throw them all out at some point. Being adaptable is key even with machines, but I figure that you can't make the best of opportunities - or problems, for that matter - if you don't have any idea what course you're on when they come up."

Nodding, Kailani replied, "Very true, Commander." She paused, deciding how best to continue. "As an Engineer, I'm sure you're used to dealing with new situations and issues that arise and having to solve them, though. If a ship took damage, you would likely know what would have to be looked into, but there's always the chance that something unexpected would happen that you'd have to adapt to. One's career can be subject to that too."

"That's certainly true, ma'am." Ash mentally crossed his fingers and said, "What sort of unexpected career changes could I be looking at this time?"

Kailani simply smiled and slid a PADD across her desk to him. Rather than verbally telling him initially, she thought it best to let him read the actual orders. In many cases similar to this one, the officer refused to believe her until she showed them proof anyway.

Ash picked the PADD up and started skimming it, looking for the important keywords and phrases buried in with all the administrative minutiae. His name at the top, date transfer order issued... all the usual formalities, right until he got to, "requested and required to take command of USS Minoru NCC-64305", at which point his brain seemed to skip like a rotor with a broken bearing. He went back to the start and began rereading the entire thing, paying close attention this time.

"Well," he said after a minute, setting the PADD back down with a level of care usually reserved for explosive material. "How cliche would it be if I asked if this was a joke?"

After waiting patiently as Ashton read through the orders twice, Kailani chuckled at his response, "I hear that a lot. After the first hundred times, I started just handing the officer the transfer orders PADD. That didn't really help either..." Reminiscing for a moment, she then turned her attention back to him, "In any event, I can assure you it's no joke, Mr. Griffith. You've been assigned as Commanding Officer of the USS Minoru."

"Wow." Ash's eyes momentarily widened and he shook his head. "I'd thought I might hear a lot of things today, but that certainly wasn't one of them. I mean, I've been keeping my bridge officer credentials current and tried to fit in whatever command-oriented material I could into my professional development plan, but it's still a bit of a shock. I thought it'd be a few more years before I would be ready to apply for an executive officer position without being laughed at, let alone assigned an independent command." Realizing how that might sound, he hastily added, "Don't get me wrong, as shocks go, it's a nice one. It's just surprising."

Smiling, Kailani nodded, "I understand, Commander. You've shown a lot of promise and we think you have the necessary skills; believe me, we don't make decisions like this hastily. You'll be a fine Commanding Officer. Are there any questions I can answer for you?" In her time as Personnel and Awards Director, she knew that most did have questions...the problem was that they either blanked out on them or had so many swirling around that they didn't know where to start.

There were plenty of questions Ash had, some not suitable for polite company. On the one hand, he did have some field command experience and he had worked himself into the ground to get up to speed with modern technology and tactics. On the other hand, there was a small part of him that thought Starfleet Command had clearly gone insane and that there was no way he was ready for command of a starship just yet. On the gripping hand, most of his brain just kept hitting the phrase "starship command" and blanking out because of unadulterated glee. It was the last that won out.

"Not at the moment, ma'am," Ash said with a grin. "I'm sure that Starfleet knows how to choose its commanders and I'm honored to have been selected. I'll do my best to live up to expectations."

She returned the smile, "I'm sure you will, Mr. Griffith. Congratulations and good luck. You know where my office is if you need anything. Dismissed."

Ash stood and said, "Thank you, ma'am." He quickly exited the office and headed for his guest quarters with a bounce in his step. The assignment was an amazing - if also frightening - opportunity. There were a thousand things he had to do: arrange for transport, review Minoru's history and specifications, call his parents... well, no, not the last. He was sure they would be proud of him, though, and he'd try his hardest to make sure that neither they nor Starfleet would have reason to be disappointed.

[Main Engineering (Lower), Pre-MD 1, 0931]

"Mr. Morak'tal, please ensure that the plasma flow-regulators' apertures remain fixed at thirty-five percent. I'm going to slowly increase the intermix ratio, and I'd rather the process to proceed gradually rather than all at once to avoid any power overloads to the EPS manifolds." Lieutenant Arunjezeb Ameen ordered from behind the sizeable console station. His fingers danced lightly over the biometric control interface, the board's numerous displays reacting to a simple touch of finger to glass.

As the appropriate string of commands were entered, the LCARs adjusted its display to reflect a bar graph representation of the matter to anti-matter intermix ratio as the plasma flow was slowly, yet steadily increased. "Very good, steady ... reaching a fixed composition as per safety protocols." Although the tone of his voice was soft in volume, it was still quite discernible. "Excellent!" Arun exclaimed as the intermix ratio for, both, the matter and anti-matter matched at a constant fifty percent. "Ensign," he continued, once again addressing the Klingon behemoth that was known as Morak'tal, "please ensure the intermix remains at equal parts within a one to two percent variance." The Human Lieutenant concluded, casting a curt nod in the direction of the Ensign. Morak'tal responded with a like-minded gesture and went about the task at hand.

For the past two weeks, Arun had been on board the Akira-class USS Minoru overseeing the final stages of its recent refit-cycle. The upgrades and modifications to ninety-five percent of the ships systems had been more than warranted and long overdue. And, although the overall process had been a bit more time consuming than he would have liked, Arun appreciated all of the hard work completed thus far. As the actual refit-cycle was drawing to a close, the Engineering Department had dedicated a considerable amount of time to meticulously and repeatedly testing each system and its subsequent sub-systems. It was imperative that the Minoru was operating at peak efficiency prior to its departure from starbase. On a more personal note, however, Arun was well aware that, as it had inherited a new Chief Engineering Officer, the Minoru was inheriting a new Commanding Officer; and, like any Captain would do upon arrival to their new duty-station, they would inspect it from stem-to-stern. For Arun, it was imperative that this tour went without a hitch and that the work completed met and, hopefully, exceeded the Captain's expectations. As this was his first posting as the Chief Engineering Officer, Arun wanted to assure that the Captain that he and the Engineering Department were more than qualified and capable of ensuring the continued maintenance and upkeep of the vessel.

Arun had interviewed for this position on three different occasions and with each interview, the questions and clinical scenarios had become increasingly difficult. When he'd asked why three interviews were necessary to determine whether he was a qualified candidate for the position, the liaison for the Department of Personnel Management had indicated that his experience on board the Horatio had been, both, a blessing and a curse. The old Ambassador-class still employed technologies considered antiquated when compared to the advances employed on board an Akira-class; so, in a way, his experience with older systems technologies worked as a benefit. However, in tandem with its recent refit-cycle, the powers that be wanted to ensure that Arun was completely familiar and comfortable with troubleshooting old-age problems utilizing new-age technologies. In the end, however, all of his patience and hard work had paid off, as he'd been selected for the assignment due to a number of different variables.

"Alright Team, let's bring it in for a quick powwow." Arun called out. Those Engineer's and Technician's within earshot quickly completed the task at hand and then joined the rest in the center of Main Engineering's anti-chamber. "We've made some fantastic headway; however, there's still quite a bit of work that needs to be completed prior to our departure. Now, I received word that our new Commanding Officer will be arriving at some point today and, as we all know, they're most likely going to want to see how well this ship operates." Arun paused for a brief moment, his hazel-colored eyes shifting among the various and very unique faces of the Engineering Department. He continued, the thick inflections of his Indian accent somewhat captivating. "Before this new Captain arrives, I'd like for us to test the primary systems one last time. So, with that in mind, I'll be assigning each of you to a specific system; please, go through your respective assignment with the utmost scrutiny and detail oriented mindset. If any system and its respective backup seem to be off, make a note of it and compile a list. When you've finished, turn that list into me and I'll compose a final action request and assign accordingly. I'll have your respective duty assignments posted within the next five minutes, so complete whatever tasks you're working on now and then proceed with your new orders. Understood?"

There was a soft hum of acknowledgment from the sea of faces circling around the Lieutenant; he, himself, nodded in response. "Very good, keep up the fantastic work. Dismissed." Hey conveyed how pleased he was with their progress by casting a handsome smile that only seemed to better enhance the rugged features of his face. In truth, he was quite pleased with how well the various members of his team had worked together. Perhaps that was to be expected in the beginning; after all, everybody's so very business-like ... wanting to impress and showcase their respective talents and skills. The true testament to their abilities would come while working in the field and away from port. Then, well, then he was certain their true colors would shine through.

(Reply: Any)

On:
[North-West Departure Concourse, Spacedock (SB-1), MD-1]

"Your attention please. Starfleet Heavy 798 will be boarding in five minutes at Docking Port North-West 7. This is the daily transport to the Antares Shipyard, Bajor Sector. Again, Starfleet Heavy 798 will be boarding in five minutes at Tube North-West 7."

There was no change of activity inside the packed concourse following the computer's announcement, possibly because there was no way it could get more busy than it already was. This particular dock served only official Starfleet light and mid-range transports, but even still it was packed with hundreds, if not thousands, of Starfleet and attached civilian personnel heading for different ships. Spacedock was one of the busiest ports in the Federation, with departing ships heading for destinations ranging from major worlds like Vulcan and Andor to far-flung outposts like DS5 at the edge of Federation space. Dozens of ships departed and arrived every hour.

Not far from Port NW-7 was Ashton Griffith, waiting in line and leaning against a decorative pillar for lack of an open chair. Newly promoted starship captain or not, he wasn't so important that he warranted a personal shuttle to Antares when there were perfectly good ships leaving Earth daily. He didn't mind too much, since the main reason he had been on Earth in the first place was a chance for a brief leave between assignments. Chances were he wouldn't be anywhere near Earth again for a year or more, barring some unforeseeable event.

"Hey, listen, I need get going," he said to the cousin he was conversing with over a commlink. "I'll try to dig up some more information while I'm en route. Will Tuesday be soon enough for you?"

"That would be great, sir," Raymond (NPC) replied. "Thanks for the help."

"No problem. In the meantime, make sure you look into the differences in the power grid between ships produced at San Francisco and Andor in that period. The Flight II Loknar-class would be a perfect example - the ones at Andoria used the upgraded Mark XIV-b intermix regulators and had a higher efficiency rating because of it. It should give you something to start with and a little detail like that should impress your professor."

"I'll do that, sir. Mitchell out."

With the transmission terminated, Ash turned off his PADD and slipped it into his tote bag.

Standing two spots in line behind Griffith was an impatient Marcus Niveda who was struggling to maintain his composure in the throng. He had not experienced so large a crowd in such tight quarters before and the mental wall he had erected against the tide of emotions around him was quickly wearing thin. Desperate for a focus Marcus blurted out the first thing that came to his mind, "I hope that poor kid wasn't counting on your information for a grade..."

With his mind suddenly clear Marcus sighed a breath of relief but his anxiety quickly began to rise again once he noticed that the dozen or so people closest to him were staring, caught off guard by his outburst. With flushed cheeks Marcus brushed past the two officers in front of him and leaned closer to Griffith.

"I meant that the information you gave him was wrong," Marcus stated confidently. "Its commonly known that the XIV-b regulators were faulty and luckily recalled before any could be installed."

Ash was a bit startled by the sudden interjection, but after a moment he smiled. "You're almost right, but not quite. There was a serious problem with the manufacturing process for the XIV-b and they ended up scrapping pretty much the entire production run in favor of the newer C design. The contractor for Libration-5 Assembly at Andoria managed to create a work-around, though, and before production was cut off they made enough for a dozen Loknar-class frigates."

Marcus raised an eyebrow at the certainty with which Griffith spoke, the Loknar class was widely used in the early to mid twenty third century but only two remained and they were in poor condition. Marcus considered himself an expert on the ships of the period and yet the man standing before him contradicted the established history of the class.

"I know pretty much everything there is to know about the Loknar," Marcus stated plainly with narrowed eyes. "What you are telling me goes against well established reports from the period... Where are you getting your information?"

"I served on one during my senior training cruise at the Academy," Ash said, his amusement growing. "In that time, I think the chief engineer threatened my life about fifty times because the B regulator we had was pretty much irreplaceable and he thought the C model was substandard. I don't know if he would have really thrown someone out an airlock for breaking it, but no one in the department wanted to be the one to find out. Let me tell you, it was a very interesting introduction to practical engineering."

Marcus might have found the story amusing if he hadn't been stricken with shock, he had heard of the return of the USS Mariner but had never expected to come face to face with a member of its crew. Though his pride was bruised Marcus realized that he couldn't argue technical facts with a man who had first hand experience with what was admittedly a gray area in the technical records.

"Well I suppose you would know better than me then," Marcus muttered. "I meant no disrespect, my apologies."

Ash quickly shook his head, not wanting to give the other man the wrong impression. "There's nothing to apologize for. It's not like you can be blamed because no one recorded every last bit of minutiae about the class. I'm actually impressed that you know enough about ships from back then to notice something was wrong with what I said. Most people aren't that familiar with engineering history." Realizing they hadn't been introduced, he held out his hand. "Ashton Griffith, by the way."

Marcus cursed fate's twisted sense of humor as he accepted Griffith's greeting with a slightly weaker grip than he might usually have given, the man before him was the Captain of the Minoru, his new commander.

"Marcus Niveda, Sir," he paused briefly awaiting a look of recognition from Ashton's eyes. "I've been assigned as your Chief of Ops."

As soon as Ash heard the name he recognized it from the long list of officers aboard his ship, one of many things he'd been trying to cram into his head even while on leave. The coincidence was so extraordinary that he almost laughed aloud. "I thought you looked familiar somehow. It's nice to meet you. If you're half as good with modern technology as you are with trivia about older ships, I can see why you come so highly recommended."

Marcus forced himself to smile and shed some of the tension that gripped his body, he was relieved that Ashton had accepted the situation with good humor. The man had an air about him that almost seemed alien, a strength that was somehow unfamiliar and Marcus wondered if it was some kind of cultural difference between the humans of Ashton's century and those of his own. Whatever was the cause Marcus was certain that his Captain would be an easy man to work for and this put him at ease.

"I'm a Shipwright sir, as were my parents, I grew up hearing about starships and what made each model unique. My specialty is in reconstruction but I've been told that I have a way with numbers, logistics. Someone at Starfleet Command decided I'd make a bigger difference in the Ops division and here I am."

'A way with numbers' seemed to be a bit of an understatement, and it didn't quite explain being able to spout of details of a ship a hundred and twenty years out of date. Ash wasn't going to complain about someone with that kind of attention to detail being his ops officer, though.

"I was Fleet brat myself," Ash said. "My momma was an engineer and my daddy a science officer. I was an engineer myself before, as you said, some at Starfleet decided I was qualified for a command position, so I kind of know how you feel." He paused for a moment, thinking about whatever details he could remember about the other man, then said, "This is your first real starship assignment, right? You've been working at the yards except for the shipboard mandatory training tour?"

"That is correct," Marcus replied. "I've worked just about every position at the yards, my next step would have been to work myself onto the design team. In my first year I logged more hours in an EVA suit than most will in their entire career and I finished out as a Foreman managing drydock facilities. The farthest I've been aboard a starship is Betazed and that was before I was accepted to the Academy."

It sounded like a pretty respectable career, although not one Ash would have wanted. He'd had enough of a taste of sitting in one place to know that he definitely preferred shipboard assignments, even if it would have saved him quite a lot of personal trouble.

"I've done a fair bit of yard work myself over the last year as part of a refit project," Ash said. "It was interesting work, but I'm glad to be back on a ship, and better yet out on the frontier instead of inside settled Federation space. We'll be out past DS-5 and the Typhon Expanse, doing a little bit of everything - colony check-ins, border patrols, even some exploration and surveying. A classic deep space assignment, basically."

"Well, it will be a first for me," Marcus feigned a smile in an effort to conceal his discomfort. "The Typhon expanse... That will take us close to the Romulan border, a lot of unknowns out there."

"Oh, yeah," Ash said with obvious relish. "There's definitely Romulans out there, although they've been more concerned with internal matters lately. Personally, I'm hoping we get a chance to do a real first contact. I've never been part of one before." He paused, noticing something was amiss with the other man. "You don't seem too excited. Something wrong?"

"Oh, just a little nervous about it is all," Marcus under exaggerated. "A man who works in space uncomfortable with the idea of traveling through space. Pretty silly huh?"

Ash shrugged. "Well, it's understandable, I suppose. Who better than an engineer to understand just how many ways something could go wrong with a ship in deep space? I mean, sure, the transport's probably been flying without incident for twenty years, but all it takes is one little blip in the antimatter bottles or a coil blowout while entering warp and that's all she wrote."

"Right," he chuckled sourly and decided to change the subject. "Speaking of the transport..."
Marcus swallowed hard, if Griffith was attempting to be funny his sense of humor was definitely lacking, any more punch lines like the last and Marcus was certain he would need sedatives for the trip.

"We're too far inside Federation space to run into any Romulan warbirds, but there's always my personal favorite problem, spacial anomalies..." Ash was about to continue along the same lines, perhaps with a divergence into how dangerous even planets were, then stopped. It was clear that levity definitely wasn't helping Niveda's mood.

"I think you're right, we can start boarding," he said instead. "And seriously, I'm sure the trip's going to be fine, and you know it too if you'd think about it for a second. I bet you could quote the safety statistics of this class in your sleep."

"Thank you Commander," Marcus sighed, deciding to be candid. "I know I shouldn't concern myself with this so much and I have already faced the fact that I have to get over it. I'll just say that there's more to my hesitation than what I usually let on... But that's a conversation for another time and place."

"Fair enough," Ash said. It sounded like there was some kind of interesting story there, but it clearly wasn't the time or place to find out what it was. Instead, as they started for the boarding tube, he changed the subject. "So, where are you from? I'm a Carolina boy myself, although I moved off world a couple times when one of my parents had starbase duty."

"Mars," Marcus began. "My parents were career shipwrights at the fleet yards but I spent much of my childhood on Betazed. Another long story but I spent the later years of my childhood with an adoptive parent there, until the war anyway."

"The war. I see." Ash had learned enough about the Dominion War to remember that Betazed had been occupied, and he knew from his own personal experiences what that could be like even with invaders who mostly ignored the civilian population. Not wanting to dwell on what was almost certainly a sensitive topic, he said, "And after that, back to Mars or Earth for the Academy?"

"Not at first," Marcus explained, his voice carrying dire undertones. "I was only fourteen when the conflict ended but by that time what innocence I had before had been taken. I'm sure you understand. I helped with the reconstruction efforts until I was old enough to leave, my wife and I made the move to Earth together, not married at the time of course. It wasn't long after that I was accepted at the Academy."

"Yeah, I understand, as much as anyone can. I've been in a similar situation, although as an adult and not for as long," Ash said quietly. They were definitely drifting onto unpleasant territory and he made another attempt to change the conversation's direction. "So, you're married? Is she another engineer at the yard?"

"I am and no, she is a civilian. I've suggested to her more than once that she should give the academy a shot but its just not her place in the universe I guess." Marcus hefted his duffel bag back up over his shoulder as the line began flowing into the transport. "She will be joining me before we are due to depart, there were a few last things back home that required her attention."

"She'll be aboard the ship?" Ash said, surprised. It took him a moment to remember that like most modern ships, the Minoru carried civilians - less than many ships her size, but they were still there. He wasn't sure how he felt about that decision. His first instinct was that a starship was no place for families. There were a lot of dangers waiting for ships out in the black. Then again, there had been families at starbases and stations since the founding of Starfleet, and frontier colonies weren't exactly the safest places either. At least a ship could fight back or run away. Deep-space tours also meant long periods of time away from home and he'd certainly heard plenty of gripping, particularly from Andorians and similar cultures, about leaving families behind on other, far less spacious ships he'd served on. He couldn't deny the comfort of having a loved one around, either.

Still. Civilians - maybe even kids; he'd have to recheck the manifest - on his ship.

"You must be thrilled," Ash continued after a momentary pause, still unsure whether he liked the idea but willing to support their decision none the less.

Marcus caught Griffith's hesitation and after a moments consideration realized its cause, in his original time the vessels of Starfleet carried no civilians.

"Actually Sir, the idea of having Adara aboard scares the hell out of me but I really have no choice in the matter. Without her I would be unable to perform my duties, it should be noted in my service profile."

"There must be an interesting story behind that," Ash said, frowning for a moment but quickly concealing it. He would have to look into Niveda's profile a bit more closely when he had a chance and see exactly why that was the case. "I don't blame you for being scared, but being on the same ship can be a source of strength, too. It's all in how you approach it, just like anything else in life."

"It will be," Marcus nodded.

Ash would have liked to try to dig a little deeper into Niveda's remark about needing his remark, but given that they'd just met and the crowded setting, he decided to put it off until later, unless the other man brought it up first. Instead he settled on a safe topic: shop talk. "So, I heard a rumor that they've been running into some trouble with the new fusion reactant injectors on some of the mid-sized cruisers being refit. Any truth to it, and do you think it could affect us?"

Marcus eased himself into his seat with a sigh and looked across the isle at Griffith, "considering the Minoru is over a decade old and has proven its self time and again... I doubt we'll have any problems with that. Now, I think it would be wise for me to try and sleep some of this trip away, see you on the other side, sir?"

"Yeah, sure," Ash said, settling into his own chair and pulling his PADD once more to do some reading and research. "Sleep tight."

----
Off: a JP with
Lt Commander Marcus Niveda
Operations Officer, USS Minoru

ON: [[Simon Anderson’s Apartment, Earth, Prior to MD01]]

The salty breeze off the bay wafted across the porch as James (NPC) lay in his makeshift hammock. A large PADD rested across his chest as he looked straight up toward the darkening sky above. Bands of purple and orange streaked across the sky as the sun continued to sink slowly in the west. It was certainly a sight that one did not often see when aboard a starship.

At the sound of the patio door, James turned his head slightly to see his father stepping out onto the porch. “Hey dad,” he said as he went back to looking at the sky. The colors had already changed again so that a few darker shades had been blended into the mix.

“How did it go today,” Mark asked as he eased himself into a nearby chair.

“Not bad,” James replied, rocking back and forth slightly in the hammock, “Uncle Simon (NPC) said that Phoebe is feeling better. He thinks that she should be healthy enough to release by next week.”

“That’s good,” Mark said, remembering the late night run that Simon had made to the Cetacean Institute when Phoebe had been brought in. The eight year old humpback whale was one of the more recent releases from the institute’s repopulation program. Unfortunately, for some unknown reason, an observation craft had spotted Phoebe drifting a few miles north of the institute, dangerously close to beaching herself. It was an unusual and abrupt change for the whale, which is what had the scientists at the institute so concerned.

“How about you,” James asked, knowing that he would probably get the same answer he’d been getting for the past week. His father was serving on attached duty with Starfleet Academy, which meant that he did everything from presenting lectures, proctoring exams, or overseeing practical training. For the past week, his father had been proctoring exams for one of the flight training courses, which wasn’t all that interesting…except for the occasional funny story.

“Admiral Newman called today,” Mark said slowly.

“What did she want,” James asked, not entirely sure he had forgiven the woman for pulling his father off of the Endeavour. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy spending time with Uncle Simon and it wasn’t that he didn’t think being able to visit the Academy was an opportunity, but he had gotten so used to living on a starship with different opportunities available to him.

Keeping a straight face, Mark replied, “She’s found a new assignment for us.”

“Why would she…” James began with frustration, but he paused in mid-sentence. It took a few seconds for his father’s words to process. As he began to realize what his father was saying, a small smile started tugging at his mouth. “Do you mean…” he ventured, hoping he wasn’t getting too far ahead of himself.

Mark nodded. Admiral Newman was a woman of her word and she had promised that she would do all in her power to find him another field assignment as soon as possible. The posting to the Academy was supposed to be a temporary one. They had already found a more permanent replacement for the position that had created the need for Mark’s presence in the first place. “The USS Minoru is just finishing its refit at the Antares Fleet Yards,” Mark explained, seeing the excitement on his son’s face grow, “and she’s in need of a first officer.”

For a moment, James was speechless. When he was able to speak again, he could only manage to ask, “When do we leave?”

“The transport leaves McKinley Station in three days,” Mark replied. He’d already been working out the arrangements in his head, ever since he’d told Admiral Newman that he was going to take the position. It would be tight, but they would manage.

Thoroughly excited, James settled back into his hammock, letting his eyes drift back to the sky. His attention was elsewhere, though. Thoughts and ideas circled around in his head as he thought about what it was going to be like to be back aboard a starship. He didn’t even know what class of ship or who would be there, but he didn’t care. All he knew was that they were going to be out again.

OFF

Simon Anderson (NPC)
Supervisor
Cetacean Institute

James Anderson (PNPC)
Executive Officer's Son
USS Minoru

Played by:

[Shuttlecraft Setoka, Antares Fleet Yard, 0600 MD-2]

The Antares Fleet Yards weren't as nearly as big as Utopia Planetia, but they were impressive enough in their own right. Certainly to the human eye there wasn't a huge difference, with assembly frameworks, industrial platforms, and operations stations scattered as far as could be seen. There were ships of all sizes and stages of construction, from swarms of workbees to the skeleton of a Nebula to a recently-launched Sovereign. It all may as well have been invisible for all the attention Ash paid to any of it. It wasn't tiredness that blurred his sight, as he'd slept most of the flight to the yard hub where they'd transfered to this shuttle; no, he was entirely focused on the ship in front of them. Minoru's sleek shape stretched out before them, looming large in the windows as they came in closer. He'd served on a couple of ships with similar designs, but he was positive that none of them had the same kind of stunning grace and subtle (well, subtle-ish) power that this one had.

"You know," he offhandedly said to Niveda and their pilot, "I think that has to be the most beautiful starship I've ever seen."

Marcus, having just awoken as well rubbed his eyes and leaned forward to see what Griffith was talking about. The shuttle was approaching the Akira-class head on and as he watched the landing strobes within the ships forward shuttle bay began sweeping back, guiding them in.

He glanced at Griffith who appeared as a child that had just caught Santa sneaking toward the living room tree, with a firm pat on the shoulder Marcus added, "aye sir, that she is."

[USS Minoru, Forward Shuttlebay, 0610 MD-2]

The shuttle smoothly glided into the bay, landing in one corner where there was an empty space. There was a constant flow of traffic and the bay, as well as the hangar visible through a pair of large, open doors, was even more filled than normal with cargo and personnel shuttles from the yard as the ship prepared for its rapidly approaching departure. Even as the shuttle's rear door slid open, a Workbee with a train of cargo pods went floating past, bound for an elevator leading down to the lower cargo bays. Meanwhile numerous Officers and Ratings hurried about the bay.

Walking off of the ramp into the hanger bay Marcus turned to Griffith and stood at a loose attention, "reporting for duty seems a tad redundant at this point Sir but none-the-less ... With your permission I would like to get settled in and begin my assessment of the ship's status."

"I'm happy to report, Sir, that such an assessment won't be entirely necessary ... but most certainly appreciated." Lieutenant Arunjezeb Ameen remarked as he approached the pair disembarking from the Shuttlecraft. Ameen had been immediately notified of Lieutenant Commander Griffith's arrival moments after the shuttlecraft Setoka had contacted Antares Fleet Yards and transmitted the crew and cargo manifest as well as its flight plan. As Main Engineering and Shuttlebay 1 were located on the same deck, Ameen hadn't necessarily hurried to the flight deck but, in doing so, had arrived seconds after the Setoka had touched down and the offloading ramp had started to extend. "Welcome on board the Minoru, Commander." Ameen said excitedly, the broad, effervescent smile that relentlessly pulled up either corner of his enigmatic face was contagious. This was surely a most exciting time for the Commander as well as for Ameen. New beginnings, no less.

"I'm Chief Arunjezeb Ameen, Ships Engineer." Ameen extended a hand, first, to Griffith and then the Lieutenant Commander standing to his right. On top of preparing the Minoru for its not-to-distant departure and finalizing the last of the action items from the refit-cycle, Ameen had also taken the liberty of familiarizing himself with the Senior Staff selected for the Minoru's next tour of duty. He'd only managed to research Griffith and the vast majority of the Engineering Team, so he was rather unsure of whom the other man was.

"Ashton Griffith," Ash said, shaking Ameen's hand with a firm grip. "It's a pleasure to meet you, and I'm glad to here we're on-schedule. I'm hoping to get us underway as soon as possible."

"Marcus Niveda," Marcus introduced himself. "Chief of Ops. I've read most of the reports from the refit but I'd like to see first hand what your teams have done before checking in with my own department, if you have time to show a new arrival around."

"I wouldn't mind a quick look around myself," Ash said. "I spent the better part of three hours in a holosuite simulation of the original Akira, but no two ships identical and just looking at the schematics isn't the same thing as being here."

Ameen cast a polite nod towards Niveda, knowing that the pair would be working very closely with one another as Starship Operations and Engineering were often seen as being "hand-in-hand" co-op departments when it came to the daily operations. "Excellent! Well then, let's begin right here on Deck 10 with Main Engineering." Ameen replied courteously but with a small swelling of preemptive pride, gesturing a hand towards the large bay doors that would lead to the wide corridor beyond. "I'll have the Flight Assistant of the Setoka deliver your personal cargo to your quarters." He reported as the trio started to traverse the short distance from the Shuttlecraft to that of the bay doors. "I'm hoping you'll find everything in tip-top shape, Commander ... the refit crew and the Engineering staff have been working tirelessly to ensure that all systems, in tandem with their respective upgrades, are working at peak efficiency. I'm sure you both can understand, tests and simulations can only tell us so much; it'll be nice to finally test these systems for real once we disembark from drydock." He concluded, speaking to both gentlemen with equal interest, the thickness of his Indian accent inflected with hints of excitement.

"I know what you mean," Ash said as they started walking toward engineering. "My last assignment was bringing an older ship up to modern standards. You wouldn't believe the amount of trouble we had with systems that were compatible in simulation but required a lot of jerry-rigging to actually work together in practice."

"Yeah, exciting," Marcus spoke with unconvincing enthusiasm. "I'm sure you and your team have done an excellent job, I've worked on a few projects like this myself and I'm interested in seeing how our techniques might differ. There's always room to learn something new."

Ameen nodded in response to both comments; in truth, Niveda was correct, every engineer, technician and specialist had their own technique and way of accomplishing things, some had a flair for the dramatic, others were code and math hounds, while still others pulled from either pool in an attempt to co-mingle. Ameen was more or less from the latter of the three categories, yet he had difficulty truly defining his own methodologies as they were quite unique in-of-themselves. Unlike many of his fellow peers, Ameen wasn't apt at necessarily dismissing an idea or concept simply because the numbers didn't support its validity, rather he was one that enjoyed a wide-ranging variety of different and exceptionally unique ideas that he could pull from. Any idea was worth listening to, however it was his duty to pool those ideas and concepts together to formulate an overall plan of action that would prove ultimately successful in the end.

[USS Minoru, Main Engineering, 0617 MD-2]

"Attention on deck!" Ensign Morak'Tal bellowed this as the Chief entered the engineering compartment with the two Lieutenant Commander's in two. As if it were a synchronized ballet, the engineering staff present immediately stopped whatever project they were working on and pulled into two linear formations running along the starboard and port side console banks of the anti-chamber. Each stood to attention awaiting official inspection. At Ameen's request, the Alpha Shift personnel had reported in early and he had sent the Gamma Shift Team home early. He wanted fresh eyes and neat and clean appearances present at the time when the Captain would arrive. It also provided the opportunity for a thorough cleaning of the entire engineering bay, both upper and lower.

Standing at the head of the formation, Ameen gestured forward as invitation for the Captain and Chief Operations Officer to take their time inspecting. "As of 0530 hours this morning, I'm happy to report that all final tests and simulations have concluded on the upgraded and refit systems. At the moment, the Minoru is as ready as she'll ever be to leave drydock. I'm hoping once we've disembarked, we'll have a much better idea of how these systems are functioning in real time. I hope you'll find everything in order." Ameen concluded, drawing either hand behind his back and interlacing their fingers together.

Ash was almost embarrassed by the fact that this display was just for him, but he was careful not to show it. Instead he gave them the full attention and gravitas they were expecting, walking across the compartment with a measured pace and pausing occasionally to inspect displays. He came to a stop at the warp core itself, poking at the console built into the surrounding railing just to check a few settings and readouts; the core was probably the piece of equipment on the ship he was most knowledgeable about, after the transporters, as he'd written a paper about this particular design's evolution of the last hundred years while at the Academy's refresher course. Satisfied by what he found, he turned around.

"Well, I don't know about you, Commander Niveda," Ash said, "but I'm favorably impressed. My compliments to you and your staff, Lieutenant Ameen. And please, at ease."

As the Captain toured the room making his examinations Marcus approached the Master Systems Display and began a scan of the Minoru via its internal sensors. From the front of the ships docking bay to the end of its nacelles, Marcus watched as the readout slowly compiled data and finding nothing that looked out of place he nodded at Ash. "I'd say Lieutenant Ameen's assessment is accurate," he spoke somewhat absently while examining the readout. "The ship is, from an Engineering standpoint, complete."

There was a resounding echo of boot heals clicking as the Engineering Team went from rigid attention to an at ease posture. Ameen listened intently to Griffith and Niveda, nodding slowly and paying particularly close attention to their verbal and non-verbal statements; for Ameen, it was particularly important that his Team exceed the expectations of both Officers, but more-so that of Griffith, he was the Commanding Officer, after all. Outwardly, Ameen was a display of absolute neutrality, maintaining a rather stiff upper lip; however, inwardly, he was swelling with a contented pride. The latter of which he'd share with the Team upon his return from the tour.

"Thank you, Sir's." the Human Lieutenant replied for the whole of Engineering. "Your compliments and constructive feedback are greatly appreciated. There are a few more tasks that need completing, so, if you'd like, I believe the Bridge should be our next stop." Ameen indicated politely.

"By all means, on to the bridge," Ash said.

[USS Minoru, Main Bridge, 0630 MD-2]

It was a quick trip there, essentially just a straight shot up in the turbolift. Ash stepped out first, taking a few moments to survey his new domain. There were a number of technicians still working on open panels, although most of the consoles were functional. The design was oddly familiar, even if the controls were all modern LCARS interfaces, as it had a almost old-fashioned straightforwardness in line with its design as a quasi-warship. It wasn't as spartan as a Defiant or Prometheus bridge, but it also wasn't as big and luxurious as that of a Galaxy or Sovereign.

Ash paused beside the command chair, and then turned around. He took a small piece of old-fashioned notebook paper from a pocket. "I don't feel like standing on ceremony, so we may as well get this done with now. Lieutenant, I believe you're the officer in charge at the moment, correct?"

Ameen nodded, knowing quite well where this particular topic of conversation was headed. Speaking clearly and just loud enough for the computer to acknowledge his vocal command. "Computer, begin the process of transferring command registration and codes. Please acknowledge order, provided by the Officer in Charge, Lieutenant Arunjezeb Ameen, authorization code 359-Sigma-1."

=^= "Authorization code acknowledged. Command registration and code transfer initiated." =^=

Ameen then gestured to Captain Griffith.

Ash pressed a button on the captain's chair and looked at the paper in his hand. "All hands, this is the captain. Attention to orders. Lieutenant Commander Ashton Griffith, you are requested and required to proceed to the Antares Fleet Yard, there to take command of the United Star Ship Minoru NCC-64306. Orders effective immediately, signed, Vice Admiral Kailani Livian, 8th Fleet Director of Personnel and Awards, for Starfleet Command." He looked to Ameen. "Lieutenant Ameen, I relieve you."

"I stand relieved." Ameen replied, extending a hand towards Griffith before standing to absolute attention and saluting in the best maritime tradition.

Ash shook and nodded his thanks to Ameen. "I know everyone has work to do, so I'll save the speech for later and just say that look forward to serving with all of you. Griffith out."

He sat down in the chair that was now official his and swiveled back and forth a little. "Do I look any taller? Glowing with superhuman power? Because I don't feel any different."

Marcus grinned slightly and finally admitted to himself that he might actually enjoy serving aboard the Minoru, particularly under Griffith's command.

"Powers or not, its a perfect fit Captain," Marcus spoke sincerely. Turning toward the Ops console he decided that it was his turn to test the water. Relieving the Ensign manning the station he sat and began to examine its layout.

"Well, I suppose even Christopher Pike didn't start leaping tall buildings on his first day on the job," Ash said with a shrug.

Ameen cracked a smile that easily reached from ear to ear; "Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me, there are a few more items I'd like to tend to prior to our departure. It was a pleasure to meet you both and I certainly look forward to working very closely with each of you. Once again, welcome on board." Ameen concluded, awaiting the acceptance of being dismissed.

"Of course, Lieutenant. I know you're busy," Ash said easily. "I'll touch base with you for a more thorough report once I've settled in. Dismissed." He barely noticed the engineer leave or the technicians resuming their work, too preoccupied with turning about in his chair and committing every last detail of the bridge to memory. He supposed he would have to get up sooner or later - but for now he was just fine where he was.

----
a JP with:

Lt Commander Marcus Niveda
Chief Operations Officer, USS Minoru

and

Lieutenant Arunjezeb Ameen
Chief Engineer, USS Minoru

ON: [[Minerva Conway's hotel room, Golden, CO, Earth- 1 Week Prior to MD01]]
Minerva glanced around the room one last time, making sure she wasn't going to leave anything behind, idly fingering her long cotton skirt with one hand. It was weird to be staying in a hotel here, but she'd sold the house in a fit of determination when she'd graduated the Academy four years before. She'd spent the last week- her last week of Earthside leave for at least a year, in all likelihood- visiting old haunts. Strolling the campus quad one last time, visiting the graves of her mom, Erin, a few old friends. Drinking one last time at her favorite coffee shop, hiking the trail where she'd turned down that grad student's proposal of marriage forty years before. It had been a veritable feast of nostalgia, and she was getting just a little nauseated. Perfect timing, then.

She knew, intellectually, that she was going to be doing this a lot, in the years to come. A probable lifespan of at least three hundred years meant change was inevitable, no matter whether she spent nearly eighty years in the same small college town, in a desperate attempt to maintain some feeling of “home” she knew was doomed to failure in the end, thanks to the much shorter lifespans of those around her. There were times when she thrilled to think of the years spanning before her- all thanks to a sperm donor (she wouldn't think of him as a father, not ever) who didn't even know her name. The magnitude of the things she could learn, and the people she could help, lifted her up. But always that moment of possibility would be followed by the acknowledgment that the price for that extra time was losing everyone she loved, long before she was ready to go herself, barring some unforeseen disaster.

She was no stranger to the unexpected: she only had the vaguest of memories of her mom explaining why she didn't have a father around- but the memory of another moment, nearly two decades later, remained vivid: when she realized that the reasons her mom hadn't said for telling Minerva his name and showing her his picture. Minerva resembled Margaret very much, and he'd been the one to initiate the affair, using some ridiculous line about how she was just his type. Minerva had no interest whatsoever in an Electra complex.

Anyway, as Erin had always said, when the ship lifts, no regrets. She was going to start a new era of her life, and as much as she'd loved the college, and as much as she'd always claim the Rockies as her home, she was ready to go. Her coworkers at the Academy's Counseling Center had called her luggage “ludicrously small”- just the one large bag- but with easy access to the replicators onboard the Minoru, and the unusually large memory database on her favorite PADD, she couldn't imagine needing anything else. (The PADD was an older model, nowadays, she'd have to see about updating it- though she was used to the way this one fit in her hand.) She appreciated being able to have a few keepsakes around, but these days, her ongoing correspondence with her former students and classmates mattered more to her.

Counseling the crew members would, she desperately hoped, be very different from counseling the endless line of students she'd been working with- for the last four years at the Academy, and for decades before that here at the college. Listen to enough students pour out their deepest, innermost selves for long enough, and they all start to run together. Not that she didn't care for each of them, but students never really changed. And she was ready for a change. She was. Even if she had to give herself a healthy mental smack to get herself to stop pontificating and leave this room, already.

She picked up her bag, and walked out without looking back.

OFF

ON: [[Main Bridge, USS Minoru, MD02, 1305]]

James (NPC) shifted nervously as the lift continued its ascent through the core of the ship. He'd been reading up on the specifications for the Akira-class during the long trip from Earth to the Antares Yards, hoping to make himself as familiar with it as possible. Maybe, if he was lucky, he would be able to pitch his study program idea, with a few slight modifications, to the captain.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mark noticed his son's fidgeting. It was quite understandable, considering that they were moving to a new home aboard an unfamiliar ship with an unfamiliar crew. He knew that his son would soon become quite accustomed to the Minoru, but it would take a little while.

"I promise I'll ask him," Mark assured the boy, knowing full well what was on James' mind. This seemed to ease the boy's nerves a little bit, going so far as to elicit a smile from him. Before departing Earth, Mark had taken the liberty of looking up the captain's personnel record for point of reference. There had been a lot of material to cover, most of which Mark was able to read through on the journey to the Antares Yards.

The lift slowed to a halt and James did his best to keep his fidgeting under control. When the door hissed open, he peered around the doorframe at the room beyond. Although he had gone over the specifications, it still surprised him to see how differently the bridge was arranged from that of previous vessels he'd been on. He knew that he would have to wait for the go ahead before he could step out, though. Many commanding officers had a rather strict policy when it came to who could and could not be on the bridge.

Mark emerged from the lift and surveyed the activity with an experienced gaze. He took in the technicians, crewmen, and officers that were all working to prepare the ship for launch. There would be plenty of time to familiarize himself with the ship's crew later. First, he needed to find the commanding officer.

Ash was right in the middle of the bridge, sitting in the captain's chair and apparently oblivious to the activity around him as he read a PADD. He glanced over momentarily when the lift doors opened, then looked again as he realized the man there looked familiar. He put the PADD down, got up, and walked over.

"Lieutenant Commander Anderson?" he asked, extending his hand and smiling. "Lieutenant Commander Ashton Griffith, Minoru's CO. Welcome aboard."

"Thank you, sir," Mark said, giving the man's hand a firm shake while returning the smile, "It's a pleasure to be here...and to finally meet you in person."

"Likewise." Ash turned his attention to the young man accompanying the XO. It took him a second to dredge up a name - Jake? No, that was one of the junior conn officers. "I'm guessing you're... James, right?"

"Yes, sir," James replied sharply. He continued to look out from within the turbolift car. Even though the man was welcoming, it still didn't mean that he would be comfortable with having James on the bridge. Still, he had been living aboard ship long enough that he knew his way around senior officers, no matter what their demeanor. James stood up straight and tried to present his best image for the captain, hoping that he could make a good first impression.

"Nice to meet you too," Ash said, reaching out to shake the boy's hand as well. He glanced around the bridge. "Come on in. Although on second thought, it's bit busy out here, so how about we take this to my ready room."

Father and son fell into step with the Minoru's commanding officer as the man crossed the bridge. James continued to look around as they made their way across the room, trying to familiarize himself with the layout. He picked out the science station, operations, tactical, and even his father's old department, flight control. One thing that was noticeably missing, however, was a position for the first officer.

The ready room was off a door near the rear of the bridge. It wasn't that much different from any other ready room on a ship this size: a desk with two guest chairs, a couch that could fold out into a bed, a slim viewport, and a terrarium full of rocks and snow. Like the bridge, though, it still had a slight unfinished feel, with several boxes and a painting of an old starship sitting on the couch and the access panel to the replicator open.

"Sorry about the mess," Ash said as he sat down behind his desk and waved at the chairs across from him. "I only got here this morning myself and haven't had a chance to unpack by gear. Or make sure it's all mine, for that matter." He pointed at the terrarium. "There's some sort of horrible Andorian ice tarantula in there that belongs the captain of the Anchal and got somehow delivered here instead."

Mark smiled when he saw his son's reaction to the captain's description of what was inhabiting the tank. James had never been a fan of the eight-legged creatures, especially those not native to Earth. "Sounds like a nasty piece of work," Mark said, turning his eyes from the terrarium.

"The worst part is that it likes to hide under the snow until something goes past and then leap out. I'm just glad that it can't survive at standard room temperatures." Ash said. He leaned back a little in his chair. "Hopefully Captain Shret will pick it up before we depart, which shouldn't be too long from now. The ship herself is ready to go at any time, so we're just waiting for the remainder of the crew to come aboard. After that, it's off to the coreward frontier and unexplored space. Well, mostly unexplored, at any rate."

The 8th Fleet, Mark knew, operated on what could literally be viewed as the opposite end of the Federation from his previous assignment aboard the Endeavour. Whereas the 11th Fleet had been concerned with outward exploration toward the galactic rim, they would be interacting more with the Romulans and the Breen as they explored the frontier that was closer to the galactic core. Either way, it was exploration, which is what he'd signed up for in the first place. "From what I've been reading of our overall assignment, it looks like we'll be getting quite a bit of opportunity to explore," Mark commented.

"That's the plan. Starfleet does have some concerns about Romulan activity in the area and their internal stability," Ash momentarily glanced at James and left it at that, saving any further comments for later, "but with any luck we'll mostly be cruising the frontier and poking the unknown with a stick."

Nodding, Mark put a hand on his son's shoulder. "Thank you, sir," he said, "Is there anything you need from me right away?" He was pretty certain that Griffith would tell him to settle in first and worry about work later, but it was always better to ask. After all, there were some commanding officers who wanted their XO's to dive right in.

"Not really, no," Ash said. "I want to go over some personnel issues and start planning some drills for after launch, but that can all wait. Take your time."

"It shouldn't take too long," Mark replied, "James and I are old pros at settling in." He flashed a smile. Once one had transferred from one assignment to the next, each subsequent transfer got a little easier.

"Dad," James hissed, wondering if his father had forgotten already.

"Oh...there is one other thing," Mark said, gripping his son's shoulder a little more tightly to indicate that he hadn't forgotten.

"I'm all ears," Ash said, looking between the two Andersons curiously. Clearly there was something up between them.

"As I'm sure you are aware, living aboard a starship is very different from living aboard a station or planet," Mark said as he began to explain the situation, "It is especially different for the families that live aboard ship, as there are not always the same opportunities available, particularly when it comes to education. However, there are some unique opportunities to learn that can only be found aboard starships. My son has developed a study program on his own that would allow him to take advantage of those opportunities. We wanted to get your approval before going ahead with the matter, seeing as the Minoru is your ship, sir."

Ash nodded. He had some understanding himself, having spent parts of his childhood both in a 'normal' community on Earth and on a few starbases, although the closest he'd ever gotten to living on a starship was time on transport ships and the occasional Fleet Week family cruise. He looked at James and asked, "So what sets this apart from the usual shipboard and distance education programs?"

A little surprised at being addressed by the captain, James did not hesitate. He'd been practicing his response ever since he'd first come up with the idea while living aboard the Houston. "The difference is that most of it is centered on first-hand, practical experience based on the different areas of starship operations," James explained, "With your permission, and the consent of the department heads, I'd be working with people from the different departments. I understand that it would probably be limited, even if you did accept it, sir."

"Essentially a work study program. I see." Ash thought for a minute, considering the idea. It wouldn't be the first time a minor attached to a ship or station's crew had finagled their way into a position like that, and while technically it could be viewed as a drain on valuable man-hours and resources, he couldn't possibly be worse than the average crewman apprentice in that regard. If nothing else, it would keep him occupied; Ash knew from personal experience the kind of mischief an intelligent, bored young person could get up to. Just treating him like an adult and giving him a chance could save no end of trouble, particularly for the senior Anderson. "Well, I could hardly object to you broadening your horizons that way, and I doubt most of the department heads would have a problem with you at least observing from time to time. Is there any area you're particularly interested in?"

Without skipping a beat, James blurted out, "Flight control." He paused, exchanging a look with his father. It was something that he'd always thought was cool and had even been practicing, when he had the opportunity. Though he wasn't sure if his father knew it or not, James was seriously considering following in his father's footsteps.

Ash grinned at James' enthusiasm. "Complicated subject, that - you need to know quite a bit about engineering and physics to make a decent shuttle pilot, let alone fly a starship. I'm sure you'll be up to the challenge, though. Keep me appraised of your progress. If you do well it might be worth setting up similar programs for other young members of the crew."

Hoping the captain's words did not do too much to swell his son's pride, Mark decided that they had made enough of an introduction for the time being. "Thank you, sir," he said sincerely, "I'm sure James will have something on your desk soon with a bit more detail to it." That, perhaps, was an understatement, as Mark knew full well that James had already written up his study plan and was just itching to hand it in for review.

"I look forward to reading it," Ash said. "Commander, I'd like you to touch base with any other parents with minors aboard to see if they have any special needs or ideas themselves. There's no rush at all, it's just something to think about for the future."

"I will certainly look into it," Mark replied with a smile. It wouldn't take them long to unpack and start settling in, which meant that he'd be able to use some of the extra time to familiarize himself with the current status of the Minoru before he officially started working the next morning.

"Good. I'll see you in the morning, then. Dismissed."

OFF

A JP by:

Lt Commander Ashton Griffith
Commanding Officer, USS Minoru

James Anderson (PNPC)
Civilian - Executive Officer's Son
USS Minoru
Played by: LtCmdr Anderson

and

[Captain's Ready Room, 1400h, MD-2]

As Minerva walked the corridors of the Minoru, heading towards the Captain's Ready Room, she felt nearly all of the tension from the last several days slowly leave her body. She was finally here, where she belonged, after four years of fighting to get here. It felt right.

Still, no reason to pour on trouble. She passed by the bridge entrance and decided to enter the Ready Room from the corridor. She paused for a moment, and adjusted her collar with its brand-new second full pip one last time. She tapped the door chime.

Inside, Ash was taking some time to actually make his office halfway presentable by hanging up various trophies, plaques, and souvenirs he'd brought with him. Some of it he had already put up, such as the hand-made paintings of each of the ships he'd served on that hung over the couch, while other things he was debating where to stick or whether he should put up at all. Pictures were one thing, but the foot-long kzinti dagger or the warped piece of hull plating might give the wrong (or entirely accurate) impression if put up in the ready room. Then there was the matter of his new 'pet'...

In any case, upon hearing the chime, he set aside the frame holding one of his medals, flopped down into his chair, and called, "Come in!"

Minerva strode in, back perhaps a touch straighter than was strictly comfortable, and she quickly focused on her goal. "Lieutenant Minerva Conway, Ship's Counselor, sir. Reporting for duty."

The first necessity taken care of, she continued to stand at attention, and took a moment to observe her new commanding officer. A bit slouched, cuffs slightly disheveled and hair which had clearly been finger combed several times- plus, of course, the various open cartons- suggested that it had been a long morning already. She did not know him well enough, yet, to tell more from just a glance, but something in his relaxed, open face made her a little more comfortable than she'd been a moment ago, standing outside his door.

"Well, it seems to be the day for arrivals," Ash said with a slight smile. If he remembered correctly, this was Conway's first assignment away from Earth, and she seemed just as determined to present a perfect first impression as he had been in the same situation. Then again, it could be her normal demeanor. "Starfleet scheduling at its best, I suppose. At ease and take a seat, Lieutenant. Or do you prefer doctor?"

She sat carefully, her back away from the back of the chair out of long habit. "Lieutenant, please, Captain. I'm afraid 'Doctor' still reminds me of recalcitrant students." She returned his smile, and noted with relief that he hadn't tensed up at all at finding out who she was. A Counselor was never provided with a crewmate's full service record prior to reporting for duty, but the fact he'd skipped a century was common knowledge, and surely he'd spent plenty of time with Counselors as a result. At least he wasn't obviously uncomfortable in her presence.

"Fair enough." Ash reached for a PADD on his desk, which held the ship's crew manifest. 'Conway' was pretty high up the list, which actually meant he'd skimmed her file long enough ago that much of the details had half-melted in with those of all the rest of the officers. He hadn't paid her quite as much attention as his other senior officers, for that matter. "Well, you've certainly got plenty of experience. I see you're almost as old as I am."

"Yes, sir. I'm half El-Aurian. I've also inherited a little of the empathic ability, along with the lifespan, but not very much. I tend to test just a little better than humans with very good intuition." Glancing unobtrusively around the room, she took in a few of the more... esoteric decorations. Was that hull plating?

Noticing that Conway's gaze lingered on one spot longer than the rest, Ash said, "It's from the Khodarhampur. There wasn't a lot of her left, but our CO had the salvage team scoop up some of the less radioactive debris fragments as mementos. I'm thinking of hanging it in front of the terrarium, as added protection in case the glass breaks."

Minerva knew bait when she heard it, but she looked at the terrarium next anyway. 'Why would the glass break?' may have been the thought that crossed her mind, but years of experience meant it didn't pass her lips. "A plain glass terrarium? How unusual. Even hamster cages seem to be made out of reinforced transparent aluminum, these days."

"Oh, it probably is transparent aluminum, but still, better safe than sorry." Ash pulled a drawer open and pulled out a blank isolinear data chip, which he tossed toward the terrarium. It bounced off with a slight 'tink'. In response, something white, plate-sized, and many-legged leaped out from under the layer of snow covering the bottom. It reared up against the glass while making a chittering hiss, then scurried backwards and burrowed down again.

"I think you can see why I might want something extra between me and that," Ash said dryly.

Minerva took a breath, and decided it was high time that she start acting, rather than reacting, in this conversation. Professionalism was never bad. "Mmm. That reminds me, Captain," she said, as she turned to face him again, "If I remember my history, I don't believe you would be used to having a Counselor on board your ship? Do you have any questions for me?"

"No, we tended to leave our psych staff at home back then," Ash said. It came out harsher than he had intended. His personal experience with counselors had left him somewhat ambivalent about them. One or two good ones had been genuinely helpful, the rest... not so much. "I understand why Starfleet has counseling staff aboard starships now that it's a bit more practical, though. You're here to keep us sane and tell Starfleet Command whether we were genuinely inhabited by mind-control aliens or really just nuts when we blow something up that we shouldn't have. Do you have any particular skills that a layman might not spot in your personnel file?"

"My specialties include grief and trauma work, and the societal pressures of small-group environments, sir, though I've always been something of a 'general practitioner' when it comes to counseling. But there is one thing I have that wouldn't be in my file." She took a quick breath and prayed she'd read him right. "A backbone. I'm here to serve the Federation and this ship, sir, just like you." She carefully kept her voice dead even. "Though now that you mention it, I have a few mission reports involving first contact situations with telepathic races that I could move a few spaces up my reading queue."

"A backbone," Ash repeated slowly. He was a bit surprised by that statement, given her demeanor, but not unhappy. "I'd hope that all my officers would have one of those, or at least the vertebrates. It tends to be rather handy in this line of work."

"I excel at my job, sir- though my sense of my job description is a little different than yours. This will be my first tour on a ship, and I'm sure I'll have plenty of new things to get used to, but my job won't be one of them." She glanced at the cases holding his medals, stacked carefully nearby. "I suppose what I'm really trying to say, is that you can trust me to be a help to this crew- and that there is absolutely no shame in anyone's seeking my help."

"Of course," Ash said with a nod. He took a moment to choose his words a little more carefully this time. "While normal counseling methods aren't always... right for everyone, I know that for many people they're helpful and I recognize the value of having a professional aboard. As for trust, as a general rule I start with the assumption that my people are competent in their areas of expertise unless proven otherwise. I welcome anything you can do to make our voyage successful, whether through crew support or more directly with our missions."

"Thank you, sir." Minerva smiled a little. "I've been looking forward to a shipboard assignment for a long time. I won't give anything less than my best. But I can see you're busy, so unless you'd like a hand hanging your ?" She gestured to the large dagger nearby.

"No, I think I can handle things here myself, and I'm sure you have plenty to do yourself," Ash said. "My door's open if you need anything, particularly regarding the crew. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir." She rose, and was halfway to the door before she turned back for a moment. "And, so's mine." She smiled, and left.

OFF

A JP with

Lt Commander Ashton Griffith
Commanding Officer, USS Minoru

Lieutenant Minerva Conway
Ship's Counselor, USS Minoru

ON: [[XO's Quarters, USS Minoru, MD02, 2023]]

Mark let out a sigh as he lowered himself into the chair behind his desk. Reaching out, he tapped the activation panel and waited as the terminal rose smoothly from its hidden place within the surface of the desk. As the screen came to life, it showed the familiar Starfleet emblem before returning to Mark's usual working display. They’d only been aboard for less than twenty four hours, having just finished unpacking, and he already had a lot of work to catch up on before his meeting with the captain in the morning.

He looked over to where James was relaxing in one of the easy chairs. They young man was seated sideways, his legs draping over one of the chair's arms. It was a characteristic trait James had developed over the years he'd been living aboard the Houston with Mark. In his hand, he held a large PADD, which he was gazing at intently, no doubt reading, as he usually did.

Returning his attention to the terminal display, Mark immediately skipped over the more routine reports in search of anything that would immediately catch his eye. There were a few higher priority messages regarding materiel transfers and the arrival of more of the Minoru's personnel. There was even a personal message from his parents included amongst the paperwork. It didn't take him very long to read, but the thought behind the message was appreciated.

As Mark moved on to the more dismal, mundane parts of his job aboard the Minoru, he thought back to his first meeting with his new commanding officer. It hadn’t really been much of a meeting, now that he thought about it. They’d exchanged greetings and a few words, but both of them had decided to postpone the actual business and give themselves a little more time to settle in.

"Hey dad," James said, interrupting Mark's thoughts. The young man was looking over the back of the chair toward his father's desk, waiting to see if he would get a reply.

"Yes," Mark said, looking up from the terminal and focusing on his son, "What is it?"

"Do you think the captain’s going to like my proposal," James began, looking back down at his PADD, knowing he had his father's ear. Mark took this to mean he didn't need to focus his entire attention and returned to perusing the reports while still listening to his son.

"It sounded like he was open to the idea," he commented, flagging part of the report for later and opening another, "Starfleet Academy has already approved the course. It will work out, James. Really." Mark had read his son's proposal himself and, admittedly, had never seen better. Were it to be approved, which he had little doubt it would be, James might even find himself working alongside Starfleet officers on the bridge or in engineering.

James did not say anything more and Mark felt silence descend on the room again. In fact, it was a little too quite. "Computer, access musical selection Anderson-3, playback at 15%," he said as instrumental music began to play softly in the background. It was something to calm the mind and sooth the senses. It was one of the musical programs the two of them could agree on and was, consequently, the most often played in their quarters.

As the music played, Mark continued to wade through the numerous reports while James sat in his chair, reading through the Academy exam material for the tenth time. Already, things were starting to feel like home.

OFF

James Anderson (PNPC)
Civilian – Executive Officer’s Son
USS Minoru
Played by: LtCmdr Anderson

And

[Main Engineering (Lower), MD-2, 0812]

=^= “Communications to Lieutenant Ameen.” = ^= The soft, feminine voice interrupted the stilled silence that had enveloped the Chief Engineering Officer's alcove. Arunjezeb's right hand remained poised above the console interface, lingering as his other firmly gripped a data PADD; he'd been manually inputting several strings of extremely complex mathematical coding when the interruption had occurred. Hazel-colored eyes flickered from the data PADD's petite display screen to the more ample-sized panel now reflecting a mirror image of the series of coding. Gently tapping the arrowhead shaped communications device known as a combadge, he responded accordingly.

“This is Ameen; please, go ahead.”

=^= “Sir, this is Ensign Bailey. We're receiving a communique from Relay Station Gamma, routed from Agra, Earth. It's an active communication, would you like to accept the incoming request?” =^=

Arunjezeb sat in silence for a very long moment. The communique was from a member of his family, most likely his father Yamir. The entirety of the Ameen family, and its numerous incarnations, remained permanent residents in the city of Agra, India; well, with the exception of Arunjezeb. This communication was no doubt a final attempt made by his father to provide a final ultimatum prior to cutting off all ties with his son. Unlike his two older brothers, Arunjezeb had selected a vastly different career path that had carved a series of deep scars that radiated prominently within the Ameen family, but had been most adversely felt by Yamir. Interpreted by the patriarch of the family, Arunjezeb's decision to become a member of Starfleet was vastly different and certainly unacceptable; his place, of course, was on Earth with the rest of the vastly extended family where he would contribute to society by ensuring the legacy of the 'royal' family remained intact and timeless; not, if Yamir could possibly help it, gallivanting around the cosmos for who-knew how long.

As was the case with the four previous communiques, Arunjezeb had turned down each one. “Thank you, Ensign; however, I'll accept no further communications at this time unless they are official in nature.”

=^= “Acknowledged, Sir. Bailey, out.” =^= Was the simple reply.

As the internal communications channel was severed, Arunjezeb leaned back into the stiff curve of the chair's back. The data PADD was placed aside as eyes fixated, his mind a cloud of unpleasant memories that were an accumulation of many years of tryst and turmoil. Arunjezeb's parent's had never fully appreciated their youngest child's affinity for exploration and discovery, they understood and accepted the unique and fundamental differences he exhibited compared to his two older brothers, but refused to accept his eccentricities. Unbeknown to them, it was their very indifference that compelled Arunjezeb into pursing a more obtuse direction in life and when they confronted or attempted to mold and steer him in a way that would divert his attentions in a direction more attuned to their own wants and desires, the pursuit for his passion became even more prevalent. When this happened, of course his parents assumed a much more defensive and condescending role, one that showcased clear evidence of their inability and/or non-desire to support their son's affections. In the end, it was this posture that caused Arunjezeb to openly challenge his parents' authority and intelligence, forging a rift between them.

This relationship continued and became absolute and relentless during Arunjezeb's time at Starfleet Academy and during his field work. So unbearable had it become, that any further interaction with his parents he, himself, had severed. It wasn't that he didn't love and adore his mother and father … how could he not? As a child, he wanted not for anything except the unwavering respect and acceptance of his own parents; these however could no better be solicited from his parents than he would ever be of truly making them proud. It was a fruitless exploitation that he'd have absolutely no part in. And, because of this, he refused any interaction with any member of his family for the time being. Logically, to him, it made the most sense, when in truth, it was only delaying the inevitable disownment. This troubled Arunjezeb and as much as he would have liked to revel in such ignorance, he knew action was much more important and worthwhile. Sadly, though, he couldn't bring himself to face the burden so hindering … and he wouldn't, not for many years to come anyways.

Pushing these negative thoughts aside, attention was returned to the project at hand.

(Tag: Any)

ON: [[Ready Room, 0800, MD3]]

Ash started his day off with an impromptu tour of the ship, jogging around the corridors in lieu of a gym treadmill or holodeck. After a shower he headed for a working breakfast in his ready room. Whatever some people might claim about replicated food, he usually found it to be delicious, especially with simpler dishes like flapjacks and hash browns. Then again, his taste buds had been abused by years of food spat out by organic synthesizers, so his perspective might have been a little skewed. He finished just before his scheduled meeting with the XO and quickly cleaned up his desk, neatly stacking pre-loaded PADDs. The room was far tidier than it had been the previous afternoon, with all the boxes gone and their contents set up on the wall.

The doors to the turbolift slid open and Mark stepped out onto the bridge for the second time since coming aboard the day before. It seemed to be just as busy and active as it had when he had come up with James (NPC), which he assumed meant that everything was proceeding according to schedule. When he found no sign of the captain amongst those working on the bridge, he turned his attention toward the door that led to the ready room. As he approached the door, he reached out with one hand and tapped the door chime.

"Come in," Ash said upon hearing the chime.

Mark straightened his uniform jacket as the door slid open, revealing a much different room than the one that he had seen previously. From the look of things, the captain must have spent much of his afternoon unpacking and arranging his personal space to give it a more homely feel. "Good morning, sir," Mark said with a smile, "I see you've had a chance to settle in."

"Yeah, it's a bit more like an office instead of a pig sty," Ash replied. He waved to the replicator. "Get yourself some coffee if you want and take a seat. Are you settling in well yourself?"

Never having been one for coffee, Mark moved toward one of the seats in front of the captain's desk. He eased himself into the chair and replied, "Oh, I think so. When you've done it as many times as I have, you kinda get used to the whole thing. I think James and I have a pretty well-developed system for packing and unpacking now."

"I know what you mean. You learn pretty quickly how to decide what to keep, what to store, and what to donate," Ash said with a nod. He studied his XO for a few moments, trying to decide what the best way to approach his next question was. There were a number of possible approaches, including just ignoring it, but he decided to just lay it out and be straightforward.

"Listen, before we get to work, there's something personal I need to ask you first. I've read your file and you've got a lot of experience as an XO, but you've been passed over for your own command a couple of times. Now you're here under someone a lot younger than you. Is that going to cause any problems?"

The smile faded slightly from Mark's face at Griffith's words. He hadn't really been thinking about the assignment that way, considering that he was happy enough with just getting back into the field. At the same time, he certainly had plenty of experience as an executive officer and they still weren't considering him for command. "To be perfectly honest, sir, I signed up for Starfleet because I wanted to be an explorer," Mark replied, "I've flow everything from inspection pods to starships during my career before I started serving as an executive officer. I'm here because I am an explorer and I love what I do."

"That's more or less what I expected you to say, but I wanted to have things out in the open if that wasn't the case," Ash said. He relaxed a little since it appeared that Anderson wasn't going to take offense. "As long as you're happy, I'm perfectly happy to have someone with your experience aboard." He paused and grinned. "Unless you're actually a spy for Starfleet, here to make sure I don't pull a Kirk and threaten to bombard planets that offend me? One my nephews suggested that as an explanation, but it seemed a tad bit paranoid."


Mark paused. He had already given a lot of thought to the matter, wondering for himself whether there had been some deeper meaning behind his assignment to the Minoru. Admiral Newman (NPC) had not said anything, directly or indirectly, that would have indicated that he was to be anything other than the captain's right hand man. If she had, he would certainly have done something about it. "I can assure you, sir, that is not the case," Mark said, knowing just how easily it could be perceived that his job was to keep an eye on a man out-of-time, "I am here to serve as the Minoru's first officer, and that is what I intend to do."

"Your word's good enough for me," Ash said, completely sincere. Even if Anderson was lying, Ash was confident that he'd have nothing to worry about. Either he could justify his actions or not, and it wasn't as if Anderson would try to actively cause Ash trouble. Even if he was given to that sort bureaucratic back-stabbing, he wasn't going to do it with his own son aboard. "I have complete confidence that you'll do your best."

"Thank you, sir," Mark replied. He was pleased to see that their brief conversation had not made any negative impact on their impression of one another. The last thing he wanted to do was to cast suspicion or doubt on either one of them. A division between a vessel's commanding officer and its executive officer spelled almost certain death for crew efficiency.

"Getting down to business, I will say that I'm going to be relying heavily on your administrative expertise, especially in these first few months," Ash continued. "Outside of running an engineering department, I don't have a lot of experience in that area and it may take me a while to get up to speed."

Mark chuckled a little bit. He had a feeling that his "administrative skills" were probably just as good or bad as the next person. The only difference, in all likelihood, was that he had experience in a position of command that exceeded that of a department head. If there was one thing he had learned, moving up the chain wasn't all fun and games. It also meant more paperwork for and about more people.

"I wouldn't laugh if I were you," Ash said dryly. "If my yeoman snaps and goes on a killing spree, you'll be target number two."

"Hmm...that could be quite a sticking point," Mark said, as if considering the possibility of such an event occurring, "I do hope you do not intend to push your yeoman quite that far...it would undoubtedly be bad for your health."

"Believe me, I'll be doing my best to keep her happy," Ash said. He had been warned from a young age that good yeomen and NCOs were worth their weight in latinum, and that unduly angering them could lead to no end to trouble. He'd have to be sure to keep on his toes until he had firm grip on his admin duties - and learn to pronounce "Anna's" real name correctly while he was at it. "The rest of the crew, though... well, let's just say that I'll be pleasantly surprised if they don't hate me a little by the end of our first week out of dock. And by 'me' I mean 'we' or possibly 'you'."

"What exactly did you have in mind," Mark asked.

"We currently have about four hundred and fifty officers and ratings aboard, plus a little over two hundred marines and other passengers," Ash explained. "All of them are well qualified and undoubtedly very good at their jobs. What we don't have yet is a single crew. Instead we have people from a dozen different ships or straight out of the academies and training schools, a marine company last assigned to a starbase, and a gaggle of civilians, only a handful of whom have spent a serious amount of time on a starship. We need to get them welded into a coherent whole in the time it takes for us to get from here to our assigned exploration and patrol zone. In my mind, that means drills. Lots and lots of drills, for every possible situation."

Mark could easily see where this was going. The captain was concerned about the ability of the crew to work efficiently as one unit, despite the broad range of diversity that they represented. It was, in fact, quite an appropriate goal to strive for, in his mind. The methods, however...

"Would we just be looking at security drills," Mark asked, "or would you be looking for other things like tactical scenarios, biohazard containment leaks, systems failure..." He could go on to list the many scenarios that might occur aboard a starship, but not all of them could be totally prepared for with drills. Some could never be prepared for. There was also the concern of holding too many drills, such that the crew no longer took anything of value from them.

"I want to run at least a few shipwide alert drills," Ash replied. "We'll start with the most common - red alerts, hull breaches, that sort of thing - so that we can at least get reaction times to within acceptable margins. I'm also thinking there should be some that are more specific to different departments or divisions. We don't necessarily need medical to be more than passingly familiar with counter-boarding procedures or security with biohazard containment, at least at this point."

Mark nodded slowly. What the captain was suggesting made perfect sense and really wasn't all that out of the ordinary. Even he hadn't had any experience participating in a practical drill aboard the Minoru yet, which meant that the best he was operating on was the theory of the written procedures, not that those weren't extremely similar to the procedures on every ship he'd served on so far. Still, there was something about being familiar with one's own ship that made the assignment a bit more personal.

"I can come up with a few possible scenarios, if you'd like," Mark offered, wondering if Griffith didn't already have some ideas in mind.

"That would be helpful," Ash said. "Battle drills are easy enough, but I want some of these drills to test creativity more than just reaction times and standard combat procedures. I'm sure you know how often a starship can find itself in unusual situations out in unexplored space, and even if we can't know exactly what we'll run into, we can at least make sure our people can adapt to strange events and learn each other's strengths and weaknesses. I've started looking through some of the more interesting mission reports in the Fleet archives, but I'd welcome any suggestions you might have about turning ideas into practical scenarios."

"What did you have in mind," Mark asked, wondering just what 'interesting' mission reports the captain had been referring to.

Ash picked up one of the PADDs on his desk and started scrolling through a list. "USS Enterprise-D: biological contaminant causes entire crew to mutate into random humanoid-animal hybrids. USS Kittyhawk: Ferengi "pirates" use a cloaked ship to dock, release a hallucinogen into the ship's air that makes it difficult to tell friend from foe, and attempt to steal quantum and tricobalt warheads. USS Enterprise-B: a slime mold that eats veterium cordinide gets into the warp nacelles, causing coil degradation that only becomes apparent after entering warp and requiring in-flight removal. USS Currie: a geneticist creates a breed of tribble that becomes carnivorous if fed at the wrong time of day. I could probably keep going for hours just with ships named "Enterprise", but I think you can see the sort of thing I'm hoping to simulate."

"I'd be lying if I said that some of these weren't out of the ordinary, sir," Mark said slowly, mulling over the few examples that the captain had just given him, "I understand what we're trying to get at here, though, and I think we can certainly come up with a few drills that might help the crew to come up with more 'creative' solutions."

"Excellent. I know the chances of us encountering something out of these reports is slim - if they weren't, they'd be part of standard training - but it's inevitable that we'll run into something that's just as unexpected. I just want our people to be used to working together under unusual circumstances before we have to pop open the main deflector housing while sleep-deprived due to inter-dimensional alien brain-rays."

"Understood," Mark replied, relatively certain that they were both on the same page now as far as the drills were concerned. It would take a little more creativity than most commanding officers expected from their drills, but Mark could see that it was for the best. If the crew could come together for situations like the ones the captain was proposing, they'd certainly be able to handle most, if not all, of the routine stuff that they would encounter along the way.

Ash was glad that Anderson wasn't raising any objections. He hadn't been entirely sure whether or not he was overreaching, given that his ideas departed a fair bit from the usual drills and simulations most of the fleet worked on. He didn't blame the people in charge of Starfleet training programs for focusing on more generic and typical situations, since that was what 98% of all dangerous problems ended up being, but when that remaining 2% included starship-eating space amoebas and illusion-creating salt vampires a little extra practice seemed like a good idea.

"I have a few general ideas that we can go over," he said. "First, though, is there anything you'd like to discuss? Suggestions, concerns, comments on the carpet?"

The fact that the captain was being so open to comments and questions was already giving Mark a really good feeling about his assignment aboard the Minoru. He would have done his best to have a positive attitude about his position, regardless of whether the captain was strict or a bit more open, but knowing that he could approach the man made his job a whole lot easier.

"I took the liberty of reviewing a few of the preliminary assessments and, as I'm sure you're already aware, we seem to be in a really good place as far as physical readiness is concerned," Mark said, "I'm sure that these drills will definitely help create a more cooperative working environment for the crew. Is there anything you are looking for from me?"

Ash took a few seconds to give that question the thought it deserved. "We all have our strengths and weaknesses, and I'll admit that mine is my inexperience with command at this level. I'm probably going to screw up at some point, and I'll be counting on you to call me on it if I do something stupid. I won't promise that I'll always take advice you give, but I will promise to consider it." After another momentary pause, he added ruefully, "Also, my lowest grade at the Academy was Intro to Interstellar Diplomacy. I can be a bit... too forthright for my own good sometimes - say, for example, asking outright suggesting people are spies. Try not to let me accidentally start any galactic wars."

Given the age in which the captain was born and raised, Mark was not the least bit surprised that he had a more "cowboy-like" attitude toward Starfleet and the frontier. It was one of the characteristics that had been romanticized about that era along with names like James T. Kirk, Hikaru Sulu, or John Harriman. To Griffith, the galaxy had to seem much smaller in the 24th Century than it had in his own time period. The Federation was allies with the Klingons and the Romulans, they'd made contact with hundreds of new races and expanded the borders of Federation space several-fold. Starships were bigger, faster, and crammed with technology that was much more advanced than what had been available to those early five-year missions.

"I'll see what I can do, sir," Mark replied with a small smile.

Ash returned the smile with one of his own. As the two of them began plan out more details, he relaxed a little. It appeared that he and his XO would be able to work together well, despite the differences that could have potentially set them apart. Only time would tell whether that would stay true once they were underweigh, but Ash had a good feeling that it would.

-----
[Off] - A JP with:
Lt Commander Mark Anderson
Executive Officer, USS Minoru

[ON]

[COO's office, MD03-09:30]

Marcus Niveda sipped at the last of his orange spiced tea after completing his initial Operations report and his finger hovered over the send option on his LCARS terminal but he hesitated as he eyed Commander Anderson's name. The Commander was likely still in his meeting with the Captain but Marcus decided that a face to face meeting with his direct superior would be more appropriate than an impersonal electronic report. After uploading the contents of the report to a PADD he stood from his desk and exited his office, if he moved slow and checked in with his deck masters then the Executive Officer would likely be available by the time he made it to his office.

[XO's office, MD03-10:25]

After receiving an invitation Marcus straightened his uniform one last time and strode into the XO's office with confidence, stopping just inside he stood at attention.

"Chief Operations Officer Marcus Niveda," he introduced himself formally.

Mark turned from where he had just been placing an order with the replicator and leveled a gaze in the direction of the doorway. "Good morning, commander," Mark said, "Can I get you anything?"

Marcus stood at ease and smiled slightly, "I appreciate the offer sir but I am fine just now. I was about to send you my initial readiness report but decided that a more formal introduction might be in order. I hope I am not intruding."

"Not at all," Mark replied with a smile, "Please, have a seat. I'll be with you in a moment." He turned back to the replicator console to complete his order. A moment later, a steaming mug shimmered into existence in the slot below the replicator's interface terminal. Mark reached out and carefully lifted the mug from the replicator before turning back toward his guest.

"I appreciate you taking the time to come and deliver your report in person," Mark said, "I'd hate to have gotten all the way through our first mission without ever getting to know your face." He chuckled a little at the irony of the statement, seeing as how it would have been extremely difficult to nearly impossible for them to have made it through an entire mission without him ever even seeing the Minoru's chief operations officer.

Marcus chuckled a little himself as he realized the humor in his own words, striding forward he delivered the PADD into the Commanders hand and coupled his own behind his back. "Is there anything that you would like to go over or that you would have me know while I am here sir?"

Looking up from the PADD he had just received, Mark considered the inquiry for a moment. He hadn't had much time to sit down and go over the staff assignments since he'd only just officially started duty that morning, so he didn't really have anything to give Niveda at the moment. "We're scheduled to launch soon," Mark said, hoping to get a feel for the commander's assessment of their status, "how close do you think we are to being ready for that launch?"

"Well," Marcus sighed contemplatively. "Lieutenant Ameen and his team have done admirable work getting the ship set on the Engineering side of the table and as I have detailed in my report we are near fully loaded. The last of the torpedo compliment is being transferred this afternoon and all departments have indicated that their supplies are fully stocked. Both of the computer cores are operating at expected performance levels though I intend to take a closer look at them over the coming days. We have a few dozen crew members and civilians still due to arrive but aside from that my professional opinion is that we are as ready as we can be, sir."

"Sounds pretty confident," Mark observed. He knew that there had been many people working hard to make sure that the ship would be ready to launch on schedule and it would be his job, as executive officer, to make sure all that work came to fruition. Setting the PADD aside, Mark continued, "and I'm glad to hear that everything is going according to schedule. All that aside, I know that being a department head can get a little rough sometimes, especially when preparing a ship for its first launch. Is there anything you'll be needing from me?"

Marcus stood silently for a moment and thought on the Commanders question, he had busied himself to such an extent since he arrived aboard that he hadn't given any thought to the needs of his family. "Not that I can think of immediately sir," Marcus responded thoughtfully. "I have my department fairly well in order and feel as though I have a good grasp on the needs of the crew but if you have any particular areas of interest that you would like me to address for you I would not mind the extra work."

"Well, as you can see, I've not been around very long myself," Mark said, motioning to the relatively bare decor of his office, "and other than the few reports I peeked at last night, I don't really know of anything that I need at the moment." Besides, in his experience, Mark knew that preparations for a launch left plenty of work for everyone without needing to go looking for more. If this were an opportunity for those people to take a break, he wouldn't think any less of them if they took it.

"I understand," Marcus relinquished the thought. "I'm sure I'll find something to keep me occupied. I'm sure you are busy and I don't want to take up too much of your time, it was a pleasure meeting you sir."

"Likewise, commander," Mark replied, watching the operations officer, "I'm sure we will be working together more as our launch approaches."

"I look forward to it," Marcus replied with a nod and waited for a dismissal.

It took Mark a moment to realize what it was that Niveda was waiting for. Most of the time, when someone came to him for something, he had never seen the need to hold them to the formality of a dismissal. He'd certainly used it in situations of discipline or more formal meetings, but for something as informal as this, it had almost escaped his attention. "Thank you, commander," Mark said by way of dismissal. To him, at least, it sounded a bit more friendly that way.

With a nod Marcus turned to exit Anderson's office and headed a deck up to check in with his subordinate at the Ops console on the bridge before continuing with his day. He thought the encounter had gone well but as always he was plagued by the all too familiar pangs of self doubt, as always he ignored it.

[OFF]

A Joint post featuring:

Lieutenant Commander Mark Anderson
Executive Officer - USS Minoru

and

ON: [[Shuttlecraft Satsuma, USS Minoru, MD03, 1720]]

Activity in the Minoru's cavernous shuttlebay had been rather subdued for most of the afternoon and Mark felt no hesitation as he made his way across the polished surface of the flight deck. James (NPC) was only a few steps behind his father, trying to take everything in as they walked. With there being a lull in the flight schedule, Mark had no trouble convincing the officer on watch to allow him a little flight time with one of the Minoru's shuttles.

As the two of them approached the sleek form of the Satsuma, the shuttle's boarding ramp lowered gently to the flight deck. Mark led the way into the shuttle, triggering the computer's automatic activation subroutines. Interior lights rose to standard levels as the console interfaces came to life around them. Sliding into the pilot's chair, Mark's hands immediately fell into the familiar positions on the console before him. There were system diagnostics to run and pre-flight procedures to perform before they would be ready to launch.

James slipped into the co-pilot's chair and set his hands on his own interface. Although he didn't have as much experience as his father, James had run enough flight simulations that he knew his way around the Type-11 flight systems. "Maintenance reports confirm we are spaceworthy," James reported from the readout on his console.

"I should hope so," Mark replied with a slight chuckle, "She is brand new, afterall." Not every shuttle aboard the Minoru would have been constructed specifically for her compliment, but a good portion of the embarked craft were fresh from the production line, including the Satsuma. It was unlikely that they would encounter any difficulties with her maintenance record or performance ability, but this little excursion would certainly let them know if there was anything to be concerned about. "Diagnostics clear," Mark asked.

"Green across the board," James replied, doublechecking the display to confirm the accuracy of his report.

"Pre-flight systems checks look good," Mark observed from his own station as he finished up the last of the system checks, "Initiate pre-launch sequence." His hands danced across the console as he input the command sequence to bring the shuttle's systems to full power in preparation for launch. As he worked, he kept an eye out for any unexpected changes in power flow, but everything seemed to be working normally. "Satsuma to flight control, requesting permission to launch," Mark said over the shuttle's comm system.

"Flight control to Satsuma, you are clear for launch," the voice of the deck officer replied, "Take it easy out there."

The Satsuma rose gently into the air and eased slowly around so that she was facing the aft shuttlebay door. Through the shuttle's viewport, James could see only the faint blue of the atmospheric forcefield that separated them from the cold exterior of the open space beyond. Unlike the Houston or the Endeavour, the view outside of the aft shuttlebay did not open up onto endless stars. Instead, James could see the twin catameran hull of the Minoru as it curved up toward what he knew to be the weapons pod. He could see the skeletal structure of the drydock that encompassed the ship beyond that.

As the shuttle slipped through the atmospheric forcefield, Mark angled their trajectory slightly so that they passed directly beneath the weapons pod before continuing out toward the area just beyond the drydock structure. He could remember the first time he'd ended up at the helm of a Type-11 and how strange it had been. Most of his practical flight training during the Academy had been aboard the older Type-6's and the smaller Type-9's. It had been a bit of a change to find himself at the controls of a larger craft that seemed to have a much smoother response. He could see why the Type-11's were slowly becoming the new workhorse of most vessels' shuttle compliments. They were reliable, durable, and could perform a wide variety of mission operations.

Mark waited until they were clear of the Minoru's slip before bringing the shuttle around to pass above the drydock toward the ship's bow. Up ahead, he could see several other structures where vessels were being repaired, refit, or constructed. It wasn't as large a facility as he remembered Utopia Planetia being, but they certainly worked with equal diligence at Antares.

On the other side of the cockpit, James was equally transfixed by the view outside the shuttle's forward viewport. He could see the familiar outlines of another Akira-class some distance away as well as a nearby Sabre-class. It seemed strange to see so many vessels 'tied-up' in dock, given that he usually imagined starships streaking across space to explore new worlds. Even when he'd been growing up aboard ship, they'd never spent much time in drydock. When they did have to stop for resupply, it was usually at a starbase or station facility and only for a couple of days.

"Hey dad," James said after a few moments, "Can I give it a go?"

Keeping his hands on the console, Mark turned to glance over at his son. "You want to give it a shot," he asked, remembering how James had gotten a little shaken up during their last actual flight together.

"I've been practicing," James reminded him.

"Fine by me," Mark said, taking his hands off the controls.

James smiled and made a few adjustments to his station so that he would be able to work with the interface a little easier. They were already out past the more densely traffic areas, which meant that he didn't have too much to keep an eye out for. He felt a small thrill of excitement at taking the helm of a real shuttle that was different than what he felt when he was on the holodeck. Already, he could tell that he was a lot less nervous than he had been last time when they'd nearly been clipped by worker bee in the San Fransico Yards. All those hours in the holodeck must have been paying off.

A smile spread slowly across Mark's face as he watched his son concentrate on piloting the shuttle. There were some who said that being a pilot was a learned ability that took hours of flight training and experience. Others argued that, for some, piloting was an innate ability that was based on intuition and natural skill. Mark had met hundreds of pilots in his time with Starfleet and he'd seen individuals that spanned the entire spectrum. He was pleased to see that his own son had found something of interest to him, even if it did mean that James was following in his own footsteps.

If there was one thing that Mark wanted for James, it was that his son would have the opportunity to pursue whatever he wanted to. He had made an effort to see that James was exposed to different ways of thinking and different ways of living, both within and outside of the Federation. So long as James made an informed decision about his own future, Mark knew that he would support him no matter what he chose.

[[Ninety Minutes Later]]

A small chrip from one of the auxilliary consoles caught Mark's attention, reminding him that their flight time was almost up. He'd been letting James fly the shuttle for a little over an hour now while they'd been making several passes around the Antares yards. So far, James had been doing quite well, which was a testament to the number of hours he'd been putting in with holodeck flight simulations.

"What's that, dad," James asked, making a quick survey of his readouts to see if anything was wrong.

"Just a reminder," Mark said, looking out the viewport as they passed a tug headed in the opposite direction, "We should be getting back to the Minoru."

"Ten more minutes," James pleaded, hoping that they would have had a little more time for him to practice. Most of what he'd been doing up to that point had been rather basic and he had hoped that his father would've been able to teach him something a little more than routine flying.

Mark looked over at his son, knowing how much he'd been looking forward to the trip. "I'm afraid not," he replied,”I was only able to get us a few hours today. Maybe, if we can find some time before the launch, we can try to come out again."

James knew enough to know that it would do him no good to argue. The afternoon's flight had not only given him the opportunity to get some practical flight time, but he'd been able to spend time with his father. With the Minoru's launch coming up soon, James knew that it was quite probable that his father would be very busy with helping to get the ship ready. "Alright," James replied with a smile, "Let's take her in."

Placing his hands on the helm, Mark took a moment to locate the Minoru based on their current location before feeding the coordinates to James. His son had been doing so well up to that point that he was inclined to see just how far James was willing to go. "Line her up," Mark said kindly, "nice and easy on the approach."

Nodding, James adjusted the Satsuma's heading so that the shuttle banked slightly to the left. He looked up at the viewport to see the outline of the Minoru directly ahead and growing larger as they approached. With one hand, he eased back on the impulse power, causing the shuttle to slow ever so slightly. It was probably over-compensating a little, but he didn't really want to mess this up at all. James noticed a workerbee out of the corner of his eye and moved his hand so that it was poised over the thruster control. He watched the smaller craft for a moment and, when he realized that it wouldn't be coming as close as he thought, he relaxed a little.

"Good," Mark said softly as he watched James' hand withdraw from the thruster control. Keeping one's cool while conducting an approach was important, not only for the safety of those in the shuttle, but also for the simple fact that it was easier when one was focused.

The Satsuma passed under the outer structure of the drydock as it continued toward the large shuttlebay door located at the bow of the Minoru. Mark kept a steady eye on his son as they continued toward the ship. They were going to need to pass over the saucer and come about so as to approach the aft bay door that they had departed from. Just as he was about to say something, James made a slight adjustment at the shuttle rose over the curvature of the hull, passing over the forward doors and continuing toward the weapons pod at the stern. The shuttle was going a little slower than Mark would have normally taken the approach, but that was the difference between a seasoned veteran and a pilot-in-training.

Mark watched as the weapons pod grew larger through the forward viewport. He could see that they were going to drift a little too close for what would probably be comfortable. A glance toward his son and he could see that James was concentrating heavily on the readouts in front of him. It was possible that he was already aware of the situation and would be correcting it. Mark waited as the seconds ticked by and they drew closer and closer to the weapons pod. Suddenly, the proximity alarm began to sound shrilly, startling James so that he jumped a little.

"It's alright," Mark said calmly, noticing the nervous look on his son's face, "Just ease her down a little...down..."

Hearing his father's instruction, James reached for the thruster control and fired a quick burst. The shuttle dropped down a little, but it didn't look like enough to James. He pressed the button again and another burst pushed the shuttle down even further.

"Easy," Mark said, watching as the shuttle dropped under the weapons pod, "Nice and easy..."

Another thruster burst and the shuttle stopped its descent so that it passed less than twenty feet underneath the weapons pod. James moved his hands to bring the shuttle around in a lateral turn. He kept a close eye on the readout as the nose swung back around toward the aft bay doors. As it came into alignment, James fired the thrusters to start forward momentum, but the nose continued to drift slightly to the left. He was starting to feel a little nervous, but he didn't want his father to think that he wasn't up to the task. This was something he'd done at least a half dozen times on the holodeck and there was no reason he couldn't do it now.

The shuttle approached the bay and slipped through the blue shimmer of the atmospheric forcefield. James glanced through the viewport where he could see the position that the shuttle had been in prior to their departure. Bringing the shuttle into the bay was one thing, but he'd never practiced 'parking' a shuttle. While he considered the situation, the shuttle continued to hover in the middle of the bay. No doubt, the deck officer would be wondering what the delay was, but James was having a hard time making up his mind.

"Just put her down here," Mark said, "they'll need to give her a once over anyway."

James nodded once, relieved that the decision had been made for him. Carefully, he reduced the thrust power and began easing the shuttle down toward the deck. There was a slight jolt as the shuttle made contact with the deck. Relieved, James cut power to the thrusters completely and began securing the shuttle's systems from flight mode. Next to him, Mark was doing the same and, within moments, the Satsuma had powered down. Her boarding ramp lowered to the deck with a metallic clang and it was over.

Rising to his feet, Mark put a hand on James' shoulder. "Well done," he said with a reassuring smile, "there's a few things we could probably work on, but overall, well done."

"Thanks dad," James replied, sliding out of his seat.

Together, the two of them walked down the ramp and across the flight deck. The deck officer stepped out of the flight operations booth as they approached with a smile on his face. "So, how did it go," the woman asked, looking to Mark for a reply.

"I think it went well," Mark replied, looking over at James, "What do you think?"

"It was great," James answered with a broad grin.

"Glad to hear it," the deck officer replied, "Don't worry about the shuttle. We'll have her ready to fly again in no time."

"Thank you," Mark said with sincere appreciation.

"Don't mention it," she said, heading back into the booth. Mark turned and started for the double doors that led to the ship's corridor, his son only a few steps behind. As the doors slid open, James looked back over his shoulder at the Satsuma. A few technicians were already starting the post-flight service assessments and another engineer was hooking up a transfer conduit for power and deuterium. Only now did he realize that he had just nearly completed his first actual flight at the helm of an actual shuttlecraft. With a smile, he turned and followed his father out into the ship's corridor.

OFF

A JP by:

James Anderson (PNPC)
Civilian - Executive Officer's Son
USS Minoru
Played by: LtCdr Anderson

and

[ON]
[Shuttlecraft Victoria, USS Minoru, MD03, 1730 Hours]

The shuttlecraft touched down steadily onto the deck of the Minoru's shuttlebay, the intertial dampeners completely nullifying any motion inside the cabin. Jaime powered down the shuttlecraft in tandem with her co-pilot, who would be taking a short rest aboard the Minoru before leaving in the shuttlecraft. Jaime swiveled her chair around and stood up, stretching. She nodded to her companion as she exited and stepped onto the deck. She looked around the inside of the shuttlebay. The diagrams she had studied before coming aboard didn't do it justice. It may only be a shuttlecraft, but seeing as this is her first assignment in Starfleet, the image of the nicely-furnished shuttlebay was firmly burned into her mind. She reached into the shuttlecraft and hauled out a duffel bag with her name written on the side in plain black lettering.

She slung the bag over her right shoulder, her hair bobbing with the motion. She smiled to herself as she thought of all the things to come. She remembered that she was due to report to the Captain after she unpacked her bag in her personal quarters. She took long strides into the corridor and quickly worked her way to the turbolift. She ordered the turbolift, with confidence, to take her to her quarters on deck four. Her quarters were definitely smaller than what she had on Earth, but smaller is by no means worse. She tossed her bag onto her bed, and tugged down at her uniform tunic, which had bunched up sometime between when she had left the shuttlebay and when she entered her quarters.

Her room may be small, but her position as a department head afforded her more privacy than most Ensigns in Starfleet would get. Her quarters were her own. One by one, she pulled every item, every article of clothing out of her bag and positioned them on shelves and in drawers, respectively. After she had completely finished unpacking, she straghtened out.

"Computer, time," she ordered.

"The time is 1756 hours," the computer replied. Just enough time to get to the Captain and report in. On her way out of her quarters, she stopped in front of the mirror and admired her commbadge and her rank pips. This was the moment she had been looking forward to for most of her life.

[OFF]

Ensign Jaime Penderson
Chief Flight Control Officer
USS Minoru, NCC-64306