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! ==