AT/D13 - Security Complex

[Tyra Crawford]

== The Security Complex is an extensive facility that houses all the needs for the ship’s Security personnel. Training Areas, Shooting Range, and Armory are some of the larger features. The Chief of Security’s Office is located along with a few other small offices and interview rooms. There is a sizable Lounge and Rest Area that is permeated with the aroma of coffee, even in emergencies. There is also a Locker Room with refreshment facilities, a Briefing Room, and an area for communications exchange usually referred to as ‘Dispatch’. Finally, the Brig area features several holding cells, with most designed for multiple occupancy with bunk beds, refreshment stations, and an ever-present forcefield when in use. A couple cells are designated for single occupancy only, when isolated or protective custody is needed. The brig area is overwatched by a few desk terminals occupied by security personnel at all times when detainees are present. ==

[Mara Calleja]

== Morning of the launch ==

Historically, Mara was very much not a morning person. Her natural rhythm ran much later than others and she was normally still active long after dark. But after all of yesterday’s drama, she just flat hadn’t been able to sleep. Having snatched a couple of hours in amongst constant tossing and turning, she’d given up. That was why, as the ship chronometer ticked past 0600, she was hard at work dealing with her department’s admin having already powered through her morning workout and showered. Her tunic hung from the back of her chair as she cooled off a little in the black tank top she normally wore underneath.

There had been a few changes to the way Security ran under Calleja’s nascent leadership. She’d stepped up the drills dramatically. Pretty much everyone was going through 2 sims daily, 1 on the offensive on a variety of enemy vessels and hostile planets, and 1 on the defensive holding Artemis against attackers. It had caused a lot of grumbling but the COS had been relentless in her attempts to increase tactical awareness, physical fitness and the ability to work in teams. She had put herself through the same simulations both as a leader for the Artemis crew and taking charge of the efforts to test them, earning respect for her sharp tactical mind just as much as her prodigious physical fitness.

It wouldn’t have surprised anyone to know that Mara was also trying to build a culture of openness. Questions were encouraged, new ideas welcomed and honest feedback given. Her department were still getting used to this. Freedom to speak was not freedom from consequences for point-scoring or trying to grandstand. There had been a couple of incidents where officers had tried to change a plan at the last minute and torpedoed a drill, earning themselves Mara’s wrath. And whilst she had been happy to discuss most things, so far nobody had had the courage to bring up ‘fight night’. Her hostile views on martial arts, boxing and sparring were very well known and there hadn’t yet been anyone willing to try and champion the ship’s boxing tradition.

Mara had also put her own stamp on the Chief of Security's office. Most noticeable was the jacked up desk, set to be comfortable for her 6’2” height, and high-end coffee machine set up on a table just outside that she had procured and provisioned with Support’s help and paid for out of her own pocket.

One of the office’s walls was given over to lauding the department. Every time one of her crew earned a promotion, medal, citation or anything else, a copy went up on the office wall. There were also scoreboards showing the best scores and times in drills, and team photos of the best performers. It was becoming a badge of honour to have your name up there in lights.

The wall opposite was given over to reminders of what Mara and the others fought for. There were pictures of Bandar City back home, showing both its dirty underbelly and the brutalist magnificence of the governmental Spire building at night. Her parents featured in others, along with a collage of the sparse few images she had of her sister from before her untimely death. She’d let the shift leaders add their own images, places they found special and beautiful, some with loved ones in. It was an eclectic collection but the COS found the effect inspiring.

Sending off her feedback on the recent round of performance reviews, Calleja levered herself to her feet and moved to the coffee machine, a used mug in her hand. She loaded in a particularly strong Colombian blend that she had started to enjoy and set the fire engine red device going. There were some faint cracks and pops as she stretched out her back and shoulders, and then she leant against the office door frame as her cup was filled.

I’m still not used to my name bein’ over that door she thought with a faint smile. Never thought I’d ever actually make it. An’ I probably came really really close to losin’ it yesterday. But here I am. Bandaran street trash to Chief of Security, USS Artemis. Kuik was right. I need to let myself enjoy that more than I do.

A faint chime indicated that her coffee was ready, and Mara wandered back to her desk cradling the freshly brewed drink like it was an elixir of life. She settled back down in the chair and leant back, boots on the desktop as she took a sip.

== As for whom the bell will toll… ==

[Tyra Crawford]

== 0615 ==

Tyra's steps, solid and sure in her early morning journeying, faltered ever so slightly as she caught sight of the doors to Artemis' security office. Truth be told, Tyra wasn't exactly certain she had the time or emotional fortitude for this particular task but it felt necessary, something that needed to be righted before it slipped through her fingers.

She let herself waver for a second under the guise of taking a hearty sip of coffee, the warm notes of cinnamon and nutmeg causing her shoulders to relax just a fraction. It seemed that her trek into DS9 for real coffee had been worth it, even if it had spurred her out of her quarters earlier than necessary.

Not that it had impacted her sleep any, what little she'd gotten. She didn't think falling asleep at her desk while talking to Thomas counted as restful sleep but the fact that her husband had managed to settle her nerves enough for even that little nap to be possible should have qualified him for sainthood, among numerous other qualities.

Regardless of the lack of sleep, she felt more in control and certainly looked more like a decorated captain now than a haggard traveler stumbling in from an unfortunate journey. Her hair was woven nearly into a braid that hung over her shoulder easily at it's current length; her uniform was perfectly pressed, even if the jacket was currently hanging open for comfort. Her skin was back to it's sunkissed hue with faint freckles peaking out instead of dominating her pale skin and her eyes, previously the window to her conflict, easily hid the turmoil under a sharpness that was familiar and steady.

There was still plenty of conflict and turmoil to hide from view. Her conversation with Bill, while enlightening and insightful, hadn't fixed anything, other than temper her anger with the older man. She was still angry that the choice had been taken from her but she understood the lay of the board, what he had seen that she hadn't and how that had pushed him to make the moves that he had. She understood that he had acted in the best interest of Artemis and in his mind the Fleet, trying to protect Artemis from vultures when it became apparent that Coleman was on a sinking ship, and she knew he had felt that was a conclusion she wouldn't have been capable of abiding. He was probably right and fortunately, it was theory that wouldn't need to be tested ... yet.

And that was partly what had her walking into the security office at the crack of dawn. If there was any hope of keeping Artemis intact come what may, she needed everyone's cooperation and she needed everyone on the same page. That included headstrong and overly opinionated Chiefs. Having been one at one time, she was hopeful she could make some headway before the launch began in earnest.

Fortunately, the office was quiet with most personnel not due back for another 45 minutes but she didn't miss the look the watch officer sent her, though whether it was due to her presence aboard Artemis after her removal or the mere fact the captain was visiting the department this early was anyone's guess.

She made note of the changes to the space between Miller's departure and Calleja's promotion, nodding her approval to the new chief making it her own place, before she hit the chime to the Chief's office. She could still feel the watch officer's eyes on her as she waited so she busied herself with another sip of coffee.

Did I forget my scythe? He's staring at me like I'm the Grim Reaper...

== Tag ! ==

[Mara Calleja]

Mara’s head swung across to the door as the chime sounded.

“Come,” she called, idly wondering who was after her at this hour. When Tyra Crawford was framed in the doorway, the Security chief smiled wryly.

“Ah. That time. I was wonderin’ when retribution was gonna catch up to me, and whether it was gonna be you or Givens,” Calleja said with a good-natured grin, swinging her boots off the desk and gesturing to the visitor chairs. “You’re lookin’ much more like you today, I gotta say. Please, sit. Mi casa su casa and all that.” She could easily have passed for Hispanic, but the only Spanish she knew was the odd phrase she liked that she’d picked up from others.

“Look, I’ll save you the pain of havin’ to take me to task,” Mara said, fronting up to what she knew was coming. “I know I fucked up yesterday. Counsellor Kuik already kicked my arse hard about it. And I know I owe Givens an apology. When it sticks less in my throat, I’ll go find her and give it. It was friendly fire. I wasn’t even angry with her, she caught someone else’s grief that they had comin’.”

She sighed. She’d thought about what she was going to say when one of the Captains did come to speak to her, but this wasn’t a prepared speech. The Bandaran wore her heart on her sleeve.

“And I’m sorry to you as well,” Mara added. “You gave me this job, this chance, and in the very first briefin’, I go shootin’ from the lip and let you down. All I can say in my defence is, I’m not great at handlin’ change. Little stuff, sure. Work that shift instead of that one, cover this, run a drill, I can deal with that. But the big overarchin’ stuff, not so much. Took me a while to adjust to bein’ on Artemis. And it took me pretty much the whole leave period to adjust to bein’ COS. Then, bam, you were gone, and it threw me for a loop. And then you were back. It felt like… No, it still feels like, we’re bein’ played with. And I know I don’t have any right to be that angry about somethin’ that wasn’t even happenin’ to me. But that’s not how it works in my warped excuse of a brain. If someone is comin’ for a crewmate or a friend, they’re comin’ for me.”

Mara shook her head.

“There was a lot to deal with in that briefin’ and I didn’t deal with it well. Honestly, I don’t regret speakin’ out. What happened to you was shockin’ and it still bugs me a little that nobody else sat around that table felt strongly enough to stick their head up and say so. But there’s a middle ground between bein’ silent and gobbin’ off. I will find it. I will do better next time.”

Having said her piece, Calleja lapsed into silence and leant back in her chair. Most others probably would have let Crawford go first and taken the consequences. But that wasn’t her way. She wasn’t the type of person to sit meekly and await her fate, especially when she already knew why the CO was here.

I hope it makes things a little less awkward. I hate when people fumble around tryin’ to find a way to say things that won’t set me off. Much easier if I do it for them.

== Tags! ==

[Tyra Crawford]

The wry smile Mara shot her upon her entry eased some of the tension from Tyra's shoulders, her own lips curving into a matching smile as she stepped into the office. It seemed Starfleet's design team hadnt strayed far in the last fifteen years as the office easily could have been her own from the Gettysburg or Nova.

“Ah. That time. I was wonderin’ when retribution was gonna catch up to me, and whether it was gonna be you or Givens,” Calleja said with a good-natured grin, swinging her boots off the desk and gesturing to the visitor chairs. “You’re lookin’ much more like you today, I gotta say. Please, sit. Mi casa su casa and all that.”

"Oddly enough, I like to swing my own execution axe when the opportunity presents itself," she replied wryly with a grin of her own as she took the offered seat and settled in.

“Look, I’ll save you the pain of havin’ to take me to task,” Mara began, causing Tyra's eyebrow to arch ever so slightly as the Chief of Security laid out a mea culpa that was both honest and concise. Either she had paid close attention to the counselor or Tyra's previous lectures hadn't fallen on deaf ears after all.

All the same, Tyra let her speak, hiding a slightly amused smile behind her coffee cup as the Chief laid out many of the redhead's own thoughts and echoed some things that had been pointed out the night before. Mara's words seemed to mingle with whisps of memory for a moment.

"I don't suppose you would appreciate it if I pointed out that sounds like the sort of headstrong opinion a young security chief I knew might have held?"

Tyra had chuckled dryly. "Yes, well, I wouldn't have voiced that opinion in the middle of the briefing. I would have just worn a trail in the ready room carpet afterwards..."

Her husband's smile was clearly amused and maybe a tad indulgent, his eyebrows waggling just a little as if he didn't believe that to be necessarily the truth. "Oh, I don't know. Everyone has a limit to what they'll tolerate and I have definitely witnessed yours... And not always discreetly."

She hummed slightly as she picked up her cup of tea and sipped from it, having given up on coffee at this ungodly hour. "That's the exception for me, not the rule. If she doesn't watch out, her exception will be managing to get through a briefly without exploding."

Now, he nodded with a chuckle before his blue eyes, the slightest twinkle still present, latched onto hers like a searchlight. "Just remember, not everyone bleeds that uniform. You were practically born wearing it with all of the expectations and rules that come with it. The rest of us have a learning curve, some steeper than others."

"Everest, Thomas. Hers is freaking Mount Everest," she reminded her husband and not for the first time, she suspected he enjoyed watching her struggle through personnel issues. Better her than him, she was certain he believed.

She hadn't completely lost the thread of Mara's words, having caught a promise to apologize to Givens and then, an apology directed her own way before the younger woman began to try to explain why it had happened. From anyone else, it might have come off as excuses but the self-deprecating and pointed way Mara delivered her words made it seem more like needed context.

"--Then, bam, you were gone, and it threw me for a loop. And then you were back. It felt like… No, it still feels like, we’re bein’ played with. And I know I don’t have any right to be that angry about somethin’ that wasn’t even happenin’ to me. But that’s not how it works in my warped excuse of a brain. If someone is comin’ for a crewmate or a friend, they’re comin’ for me.”

“There was a lot to deal with in that briefin’ and I didn’t deal with it well. Honestly, I don’t regret speakin’ out. What happened to you was shockin’ and it still bugs me a little that nobody else sat around that table felt strongly enough to stick their head up and say so. But there’s a middle ground between bein’ silent and gobbin’ off. I will find it. I will do better next time.”

"Just because they didn't say anything doesn't mean they didn't feel strongly about what happened. The difference is they allowed themselves the time to digest and assess a complicated situation before reacting," Tyra corrected with a gentleness that likely didn't fit with the nature of her visit.

"Think of this like a tactical situation: there are times, as a security officer, where you have to act immediately and rely on your instincts to get you through without a full assessment and there are times where you have the time and capability to assess and weigh all the options. You chose the former in a situation where the urgency wasn't there, not for the first time either. And if you did that in a controlled environment like a briefing, I feel quite confident in saying eventually your emotions, or more accurately, your inability to control them, will lead you to do the same thing in a situation that will not be as forgiving."

Tyra paused, lifting her cup to her lips as she watched Mara for a moment. Her body language clearly stated she wasn't done, even if it still seemed relaxed by her standards.

"For the record, I don't regret giving you that jacket but you're narrowing your margin for error before we're even out of space dock. Change is part of wearing this uniform and you need to learn to roll with the punches or get your world rocked regularly. As a partially reformed hot head myself, I'm not asking for the sage calmness of a damn Vulcan. I'm asking that you learn when and where to unleash it and when to just let it simmer until it can be addressed somewhere else."

Tyra could admit Thomas was right though. Despite her fiery temper and sharp tongue, she'd known before ever putting the uniform on officially how to wield it and how not to. She was what most considered a legacy officer, one born to bleed for the Fleet and indoctrinated into its customs well before she entered the Academy. In fact, she could only think of one time she'd erupted during a briefing and the situation had been such to grant her excellent company in her dissent.

"Because all you're doing with these meeting stunts is making your fellow officers doubt whether they can trust you to remain calm under pressure. I believe you can but that's a hard sell when I can't even get you through a briefing without a spiral."

"And Captain Givens isn't wrong; I'm expending most of my capitol on my own survival and likely Coleman's now... I can't save you if you massively **** this up," Tyra added, the admission seemingly a painful one based on the slight grimace she masked with another sip of coffee.

"So find a way to make it through a meeting without fighting someone. You've already tried with myself, and now, both Givens and Coleman in the same meeting. I'm a little worried you'll be fighting a flag officer in our next briefing."

== Tag! ==

== Tag! ==

[Mara Calleja]

"Just because they didn't say anything doesn't mean they didn't feel strongly about what happened. The difference is they allowed themselves the time to digest and assess a complicated situation before reacting."

The correction from Tyra was far more tactful than Mara thought she deserved as the Security chief took a sip from her own coffee. The comparison to a tactical simulation was one that she rolled around in her head briefly, before returning her full attention to what the CO was saying.

"Because all you're doing with these meeting stunts is making your fellow officers doubt whether they can trust you to remain calm under pressure. I believe you can but that's a hard sell when I can't even get you through a briefing without a spiral. And Captain Givens isn't wrong; I'm expending most of my capitol on my own survival and likely Coleman's now... I can't save you if you massively **** this up."

Tyra’s grimace didn’t pass unnoticed. It seemed she was having to adjust to her own new reality as well, one with much higher stakes than Mara’s.

"So find a way to make it through a meeting without fighting someone. You've already tried with myself, and now, both Givens and Coleman in the same meeting. I'm a little worried you'll be fighting a flag officer in our next briefing."

The Bandaran nodded. She gave it a moment’s pause to make sure the CO was finished before she spoke up.

“I deserved both barrels. I appreciate not gettin’ ‘em. Thanks for understandin’. And I get it. I’m not exactly screamin’, give me all the responsibility ‘cause I can handle it,” she replied. “Honestly, I didn’t sleep much last night ‘cause I was really thinkin’ if I’m right for a DH job. I’m supposed to be part of the solution, not another problem. But I can’t walk away. You believed in me. Still do. That means I gotta believe as well. I gotta show you, and Givens, and even Coleman when he gets back, why that was. It ain’t been a smooth start, but it’s time for me to stop talkin’ and start deliverin’.”

Wide shoulders rose and fell as Mara drew in a deep breath and let it out. She wasn’t completely oblivious - she had seen some of the same parallels between herself and Tyra that the CO had. That they were both throwbacks in their own way had earned the Security chief some goodwill but as Crawford had just made clear, that was all but exhausted. It was time for Calleja to adapt.

I’ve made bigger jumps than this, and I’ve never been better set up to make a good job of it. I just gotta stop gettin’ in my own way.

“Is there anythin’ you need me to take care of before we launch?” Mara asked. “Aside from the obvious learnin’ to shut the hell up,” she added with a faint self-deprecating smile.

== Back atcha! ==

[Mara Calleja]

== Jumping ahead a little from prior posts ==

Mara was quiet as she did her rounds of the department, her mind turning over Tyra’s words even as they were still ringing in her ears. The CO had certainly given her plenty to think about.

I really gotta stop gettin’ in my own way. I got this job off the back of what I can do when the shit starts flyin’. And if I’m not careful I’m gonna lose it ‘cause of what I do when it ain’t.

The Security Chief’s wandering took her past the training area. She watched the sparring sessions dispassionately, noting who was holding their own and who wasn’t, until she got to one of the mats with an increasing number crowded around it. The gathered crew saw her coming and parted to let her through, and she ended up stood next to Leman Yordan. The burly Trill Lieutenant was the de-facto second in command, at least until Calleja got around to actually naming her deputy.

“So. You wanna tell me why so many are watchin’ this kid here?” Mara asked. There was a young male, dark-skinned and part-Vulcan by the look of him, training with one of the instructors. As the COS watched, he bullrushed the instructor and knocked him flying.

“That is Ensign Ryon,” Yordan replied. “Freshly transferred, as Command felt he could use some tough love. He’s also refusing to listen to any of the instructors until one of them can beat him. And therein lies the problem. He’s wiped the floor with pretty much all of us. Don’t know how much Vulcan is in there but it’s enough that we’ve not been able to rattle him.”

Mara sighed.

“Seriously? The kid won’t listen until someone decks him?” she asked.

“Nope. I’m half-tempted to herd him out of the nearest airlock but I figured I’d try and put him back in his box first.”

“Fuck me. This is what they pump out of the Academy these days?” The Chief smiled wryly. “They wouldn’t let me away with that, so this guy’s family must have dirt on the AIs.”

Ryon evidently heard her, as he put the instructor on the floor again and strode over. He was a little taller than Mara and he had confidence to burn, judging by the swagger and the way he easily met her unflinching eye.

“I have proved myself superior to those who wish to instruct me. It is not remotely logical for me to take that instruction,” he said.

Calleja looked at him coolly.

“OK. Your timin’ sucks kid, ‘cause I just got chewed out by the Cap’n and I’m willin’ to share that pain with you.” The COS unbuckled her holster from her belt and handed it to Yordan. “Sparrin’ fields are on, right?” she asked. “I found you someone with a box.”

“Oh yeah. Fields are on. Go nuts,” Yordan replied, a smile curling his lip as Mara nodded. The burly Trill was one of the very small number of officers who had seen the Chief fight and he knew what was coming.

The noise around the mat increased sharply as Mara stepped out to face down Ryon. She had never sparred openly with anyone since she had arrived. Her opinions on the practice were well-documented and very hostile, so to see her engage with anyone was a surprise.

I need to stop this kinda shit right here and right now. No more of this. Which means this guy is goin’ down as hard as possible. Sucks to be him.

There was a part of Mara that recoiled at the very idea of what she was about to do. The slightest glorification of violence appalled her, and now here she was, on a sparring mat with a junior officer with the full intention of literally beating some sense into him. But the Chief was nothing if not a pragmatist. She wasn’t one for debates and logical answers. That was shaky ground for her. Close quarters combat, on the other hand, was how she’d built such a fearsome reputation. It was the quickest and most emphatic way she could make her point.

“So if I’m gonna take you to school. Let’s talk logic,” Mara said, glaring at Ryon as she spoke to him and the rapidly-growing crowd of Security crew. “You’re a part-Vulcan male. I’m human female. You’re taller than me, and safe to say you’re both stronger and faster than I am. Logically, this should be a mismatch. Am I right so far?”

“Yes, Chief Calleja.” Ryon started to bounce on the balls of his feet.

“And it is a mismatch. Just not in the way you think it is,” Mara said calmly. “You’re outgunned. Physically, yeah, you got the edge. But I’ve been doin’ this way longer than you have, and this lesson is gonna hurt. So I’m gonna give you one last chance to step down from the cliff edge you’ve just decided to do a handstand on.”

“Your arrogance is misplaced,” Ryon replied.

“Your funeral. And it ain’t arrogance if I’m right,” Calleja said, and set herself.

Ryon leapt at her and Mara saw him coming. Her experienced eye read the set of his hips, the way he planted his feet and the movement in his shoulders. She knew exactly where the attack was coming from and leaned out of the way of the punch. She stepped past Ryon and hooked his back leg out from under him, sending him sprawling face-first onto the mat. It was made to look easy but that punch had been tenths of an inch off connecting – the Ensign really was fast.

“You’re gonna have to do a lot better than that,” the COS said, setting herself again as her opponent leapt to his feet.

“Oh I will,” he answered.

This time Ryon launched a flurry of short punches, as fast as he could. Calleja dodged where she could and deflected the rest, taking hits on her arms and shoulders that stung but didn’t do any real damage. The last punch was more of a swipe to fend her off and buy himself space to launch a kick, but his leg had barely left the ground before Mara had stepped right in close, grabbed hold of his supporting leg and bodily lifted him off the mat, letting him crash down on his back.

“How are you doing this?” Ryon snarled, jumping up again. “Are you in my head?”

“I can read you like a book,” Mara replied. “And I don’t mean anythin’ long and complicated. You’re one of those books with cloth pages and lift up flaps for the kids.”

The barb had the intended result and Ryon flew at her. This time she countered, letting the wild swing whistle past her head so she could slam a meaty uppercut into his gut. Even through the sparring field, the force of the blow knocked the breath from his lungs, before an absolutely savage left hook smashed into his jaw and made his eyes cross. He staggered away but Mara followed him, quickly tying him up in a textbook perfect arm lock and driving him to the mat, her knee in the small of his back.

“Submit,” the Chief said calmly.

“I will not…” The Ensign was trying to struggle. He was strong, but the hold was secure and he wasn’t going anywhere. Mara increased the pressure of the arm lock - she wasn’t going to let him go until he acknowledged his defeat. When the pressure was such that the bones were practically creaking, Ryon finally saw sense and tapped out with his free hand.

Calleja let him go. She rose and then hauled him up as well.

“There is always a bigger dog than you. Always,” she said, holding eye contact. “The instructors here might not be able to beat you hand to hand. But they’ll be able to tell you how to make yourself better. They can refine that technique so you’re not telegraphin’ every blow, and they can definitely help you keep your cool when your opponent is blatantly baitin’ you.”

There was the ghost of a smile on Mara’s lips as she saw Ryon nod and look away.

“Now go get a concussion check,” she added. “And if you’re cleared, get back here. I’m runnin’ the entire shift through a stress test holosim, and you’re not gettin’ away with it.”

That one drew a loud chorus of groans from everyone nearby.

“Oh you better groan, ‘cause I’ve done this sim myself and it’s nasty,” Calleja said, looking around with a wicked grin. “Gear up, ‘cause we’re goin’ in in 30 minutes!”

== TBC ==

[Aeryn Miller]

== Ensign Ardanna Svenson - Security NRC ==

Having spent some time in the armory at the beginning of her shift, Ardanna was ready to see what else was needed of her, but not before being told about the Chief taking Ryon down a peg or two. So, naturally, the half Betazoid was keen to find out more and not necessarily rely on gossip. Besides, it wasn't as if she hadn't already completed her task, because she didn't want to be on the receiving end of Chief Calleja's ire, for not doing her job properly.

Although by the time she arrived, it appeared as though Ardanna had missed all the fun, but not before catching the Chief informing the crowd that had gathered about being put through a stress test sim. Not her favourite training sims, however, the raven-haired Ensign knew better than to voice her thoughts regarding whatever the Chief had planned.

While the others groaned in response, Ardanna kept quiet before they were told that they had thirty minutes in which to gear up. Aware of how pleased the Chief seemed to be, Ardanna saw no reason to give her any ammunition as she acknowledged the order, commiserated with her comrades, and moved off to get ready.

== Tag ==

[Tyra Crawford]

[Crawford to Security. We're encountering a potential smuggling vessel. Please have a small boarding party ready in case an inspection is needed.]

[Mara Calleja]

As Mara led the Security teams towards the holodecks, she wasn’t entirely sure who she’d first picked up the program from. Her bet would have been old Hendon back on the Penticton. He was plenty spiteful enough to have come up with something this nasty.

“So the way outta this is fire discipline,” Calleja said. She was keeping up a fierce pace even in full armour and had called the squad leaders up so she could brief them as they walked. “It’s gonna be uncomfortable and people aren’t gonna be able to settle into autopilot. That’s the whole point. I think we could all use some more time bein’ wrenched out of our comfort zones.”

“I don’t like the sound of this,” Yordan replied with a deep sigh.

“You shouldn’t. And you won’t,” came the answer with a feral smile.

The Chief got to the door and keyed the program commands into the access panel. When the door swung open, the Security teams found themselves deploying onto a mountainside. The air was breathable but carried a decidedly acrid tang to it. The sky above them was all grey and black clouds, and it was warm enough that some found themselves starting to bead with sweat already. A deafening blast off to the east was revealed to be a distant volcano letting go, followed quickly by another. Up the mountain was a Federation base, the neutral metal walls scorched and burned but still intact.

“Listen in” Mara bellowed. “Welcome to Aiyacon 3. A scientific installation has sent out a distress signal after coming under attack. There are hostiles present but we don’t yet know who or where. Orders are to secure and hold the base until everyone can be safely evacuated. Base personnel are non-combatants. It’s on us. Clear?”

A ragged murmur went around the assembled officers. Some were clearly unsettled already as the environment made them flinch, others pulling at their armour as the temperature climbed around them.

“Right. Move out by squad. Svenson, your mob has point. Deegan, you get me for company,” the Chief ordered.

The base was secured with relatively little drama. There were a few scientists hiding in a secure panic room right at its heart, and whoever had attacked the base hadn’t yet managed to penetrate through its walls, but as the teams converged on the roof they saw that the damage was extensive. Whole sections of guardrail had melted and the walls were charred, especially up here. The ladder up to the observation tower was still glowing in places.

“All clear Chief.” Yordan reported in.

“Good. Set a defensive perimeter, let’s keep an eye out…” Mara started to say, when she was completely drowned out by a series of screeches like fingernails on a blackboard.

Rifles were raised and the teams were instantly scanning for anything amiss when they spotted one of the ominous black clouds changing direction and bearing down on them.

“Contact! Coming from the north west!” someone shouted.

“Defensive positions!” Mara shouted, unslinging her own rifle. “Hold fire until ordered!”

She knew what was coming, so she was watching the Security teams as they saw the indistinct shape turn into a swarm of flying reptilian creatures. They were ashen grey in colour with flickers of burning yellow and orange across their bodies, and the disconcerting shrieking was making the Star Fleeters jumpy. A couple of shots were fired but the range was far too great.

“I said hold!” Mara yelled again. “You’re just wastin’ shots until they get closer!”

She looked around, and wasn’t happy at what she saw.

“Tighten up these formations! Novak, you’re supposed to be at the front! Svenson, get your squad in line!” The Chief grabbed the nearest man and bodily hauled him into place. “Get it together, all of you!”

There was a pronounced shuffling as the teams checked their positions, enough for Mara to raise her rifle and watch through her sight. The red markings started to shift to green as the flying lizards closed, and when she was satisfied the Chief called out the order.

“Fire!”

Most responded instantly, and a barrage of phaser bolts stabbed out at the incoming hostiles. Several combusted as they were hit and the wave circled back out of range again.

“Cease fire!” Mara shouted again, lowering her rifle and trying to encourage the teams. “Good discipline, keep it up!”

She raised the weapon again as the swarm came back. This time a significant number of people jumped and the firing started before the order was given, a sporadic wave of shots rolling out from the Star Fleet line. Mara swore under her breath as the incoming creatures didn’t even slow.

As they got close, the attackers seemed to glow in the gloom. Then they were spitting fireballs at the base. The heat was suddenly searing as the roof devolved into a literal firefight. Calleja vented her fury with tight, controlled bursts from her rifle. She shouted orders as she fired, pulling the squads back to back and finally driving the enemy off.

“What was that?” she shouted. The assembled suits of armour were blackened from close range fire and soot in the air. “Get back into the firing lines! And wait for the order!”

The environment and the enemy were really having an effect on morale. Calleja got the distinct impression she wasn’t helping at all either. She was an unfamiliar sight calling the shots and she was obviously fuming as the squads took up positions, her intimidating presence compounding the unsettling effect of the scenario instead of inspiring.

I got work to do on so many levels Mara thought to herself.

In the skies above the teams, the enemy formed another wave and started to hurtle towards them. But there was going to be an intervention.

[Okehampton to Calleja. Chief, the ship’s gone to yellow alert.]

Mara swore viciously under her breath as the message came in from the office.

“Received,” she replied tersely. “Computer, end program.”

The base faded away rapidly and the air started to cool at the command. The Chief beckoned everyone in, and once the squads had gathered around she started to speak.

“The ship’s gone to yellow alert so we’re done here. But that was not good,” Mara said. “I’m disappointed in all of us. We’ve all been trained better than that. Now yeah, I set the scenario to make us uncomfortable, but that’s not an excuse. No encounter with an enemy is ever comfortable. That’s why I want us to be able to react to those and keep a clear head. I’m not doin’ it just to be a bitch. I’m doin’ it to make us better. Now double-time back to the office, get cleaned up, and get out on duty. I’ll find out what’s goin’ on. Let’s move.”

The disappointment hung in the air as the squads filed out of the holodeck. Calleja cut a frustrated figure at the back of the group as she made her way back to the Security complex. After a few minutes in the washroom and a fresh uniform, she thumped down into her chair to catch up with what was going on.

No sooner had she started going through the feeds than a message came through.

[Crawford to Security. We're encountering a potential smuggling vessel. Please have a small boarding party ready in case an inspection is needed.]

Mara actually laughed and shook her head. No sooner had they all managed to shed their armour than one lucky squad was going to have to gear up again immediately.

And that includes me, ‘cause I ain’t lettin’ anyone else lead a boardin’ party. That’s my area of expertise right there.

She tapped her commbadge.

“Calleja to Svenson. Get your squad geared up and report to transporter room 2. We have a potential boardin’ action. If we need to go I’ll be joinin’ you there.”

With a sigh she pulled herself to her feet and went right back to the armoury. Having suited up and armed herself, she made sure to start the cascade of information out to the squad leaders about the unfolding situation as she headed up to the Bridge.

== Tag Svenson!

>> Bridge >> ==

[Aeryn Miller]

== Ensign Ardanna Svenson - Security NRC ==

The minute the Chief abruptly ended the training exercise, Ardanna knew she hadn't done her best. Disappointment surged through her entire body before Calleja even spoke about their performance. While the brunette could easily punish herself for it, the hybrid decided to learn from it instead, giving her something to strive for and be better the next time when they were given another opportunity to be put through the scenario again.

Determination replaced the disappointment, knowing it wouldn't do her any good to dwell on it, as Calleja gave them instructions and dismissed them. Keen to get cleaned up, returning to duty spurred the brunette forward, keeping quiet out of reflection rather than embarrassment, until they reached the complex. As the others jostled about, and immediately started talking about what had happened, as well as wondering what had caused the yellow alert, Ardanna focused on getting clean and into a fresh uniform.

However, it seemed as though she wouldn't be armour free for long as the call came in from the Chief, with new orders.

" Acknowledged Chief".

Not wanting to delay, Ardanna called her team over and explained what they were about to do. She also made it clear that they weren't about to let the Chief or the Captain down as they suited back up again, grabbed all the essential kit that they would need for a boarding action, and headed for the designated transporter room.

== Tag ==

>> Transporter Room 2 >>

[Mara Calleja]

[Calleja to Security Office. Get me the duty team over here on the qoH please. If anyone can find any old-school lockpicks, bring ‘em.]

== You know who you are - tags!  ==

[Nathan Ramius]

== Petty Officer First Class Tassa “Ziggy” Zh’kol - NRC ==

“...that’s when I heard a woman screaming from my bedroom…” Parson barely had said the last word when Malley interrupted him.

“The only time a woman has screamed in Parson’s bedroom,” Malley smirked as she spoke, causing the rest of those gathered to start whooping like gibbons.

“...real mature Malley. Where was I? Oh yeah, so a woman is screaming in my bedroom…”

Rolling her eyes, Ziggy took a sip from her mug and hummed as the double raktajino hit her tongue. It was helping, barely, to keep her headache at bay and her sanity in check. There had been a wild party lower deck side, with plenty of poker chips, food, and booze slung in honor of some enlisted knuckle dragger getting a promotion. Tassa wasn’t even supposed to be there, but her friend Shendi had convinced her to go.

In the meantime, the lot of them continued bantering and interrupting Parson’s well worn Risa story. She had considered telling them all to can it, but as long as the dispatchers could do their job, which they were, Tassa was okay to let it slide. It didn’t help her headache though, so she focused on something else.

Zh’kol’s eyes perused several of the displays that Dispatch had up at all times, monitoring the situation on the qoH, as well as the comings and goings from the Artemis. It seemed that there was no shortage of casualties as was Artemis tradition; some had been beamed directly to Sickbay. A worried sort of frown was matched by drooping antennae, as the Andorian Petty Officer wondered if it was some of theirs, or all Klingons.

“What’s that?” Tassa asked Malley who was nearest to the transporter log.

“What?”

“That,” Ziggy pointed to the anomaly that was someone getting transported into Transporter Room One.

Malley just shrugged, uncertain of how to answer Tassa’s question. It looked like Captain Crawford had ordered someone from the qoH beam directly to that transporter room. That seemed odd to Ziggy, though she wasn’t one to question the skipper’s command decisions. Still, curiosity was getting the better of her.

Turning about, Tassa went over to the situation desk to look at the audio and video feeds that were coming back from the group on the qoH. Now her antennae were forward facing, showing her intrigue for the new mystery that had dropped in her lap. However, whatever happened had passed, and there was nothing at that moment to see, or hear.

“Was there someone that got beamed over just a few moments ago?”

“Yeah, some mystery guest that they found in a crate on the qoH,” Qur replied quickly to Ziggy’s question.

“And? Who was it? Did they get security cleared by us?”

“No, sounds like Captain Crawford challenged them, and the guy must have said the right code word, cause he got beamed straight to tango-romeo-one.”

“She went over to the qoH?!” Zh’kol’s eyes went wide.

Nobody told me the Captain left the ship!

“No no. Calleja was relaying everything. Hold on, I’ll get the footage.”

[Calleja to Security Office.]

Ziggy’s antennae had turned to the source of Mara’s voice, shortly followed by her head moving in the direction too. Whoever their mystery guest was would have to wait, as their boss took priority.

[Get me the duty team over here on the qoH please. If anyone can find any old-school lockpicks, bring ‘em.]

“Lockpicks? Is she kidding?” Malley looked genuinely confused.

“Does the Chief ever kid?” Parson blurted out.

“She does, just not with you,” Ziggy said with just the slightest bit of a lash in her tone.

Shaking her head, Zh’kol went over to the comms, leaned down, and pressed a button to reply.

“Understood Chief. We’ll send the duty team with…” Ziggy paused, “...some kind of lock picking paraphernalia.”

Releasing the comms button, she sighed lightly to herself.

“Who’s on the duty roster for today?” Tassa stood up and took a look around.

From the gathered group, all of them were touching their noses. Eyes widening, Ziggy went looking for and found a PADD with the current lineup. Seeing her name on it caused her antennae to melt into her hair.

How did I not remember… she groaned internally and tried to smooth her outward expression. It was far too late for that though, as many were already chuckling.

“Alright, alright. Get a hold of the others. They need to be prepped to go ASAP. Also, does anyone know about lockpicking?”

A notable silence fell upon the group for a few moments, until Qur spoke up.

“There’s that odd Crewman in the Armory, everyone calls him ‘Cakes’ on account that he likes all sorts of cakes.”

“How inventive,” Zh’kol sighed, running her hands through her hair.

“He’s into old school intelligence and spy stuff from all those weird novels and whatnot. Pretty sure he knows about locks?”

Ziggy didn’t like the questioning inflection in Qur’s voice at the end of his sentence, but she had nothing else to go on.

“Does ‘Cakes’ have a real name?”

Qur looked sheepish in his chair before typing a few commands in and pulling up a dossier.

“Crewman Jamie ‘Cakes’ Aitken,” Qur finally replied while Tassa sighed, again.

“Zh’kol to Aitken. Get whatever gear you have together for lockpicking, and get geared up for away duty. Bring some breaching charges, a cutting torch, and det cord too… just in case.”

With that done Ziggy downed the rest of her raktajino, handed the mug to Qur, and headed off to gear up.

>> Klingon Freighter qoH >>