AT/D01 - Ready Room

[Tyra Crawford]

== The ready room on Artemis is a two level office in the typical Starfleet gray color scheme. There is a large weapons collection that hangs on the wall behind the desk as well as a bookshelf with antique books on the upper level near the couch. There is almost always a coffee cup or three on the desk. ==

[Tyra Crawford]

== Launch Timeline ==

With launch still a few hours away and the recall message just beginning to filter out through the ranks, Artemis had still been quiet as Tyra had moved through her corridors and the redhead had been infinitely grateful for the peace, no matter how short lived.

It had felt weird walking the corridors of a ship she had been prepared to say good-bye to. Despite having left her ready room as it was -- possibly a spiteful move on her part since her predecessor would have been stuck with a ghost until her things could be packed up --, she had packed up her quarters in a sign of her own uncertainty of her fate. Yes, she had vocally stated her confidence that she would be back but it hadn't been that clear cut. Even now, with her fate allegedly decided and her sentence of what amounted to house arrest underway, it felt like there was still a guillotine hanging over her head and certain developments didn't help at all.

Her duffel bag made a muted thump as she dropped it just inside the rear entrance to the ready room. With the engineers running final checks on the bridge, she hadn't felt like trapezing through in her civilian clothes nor had she felt like donning the heavy mantle of command quite yet.

And yet, that didn't meant the heavy weight of command wasn't still weighting for her, whether she was in a hoodie and leggings or command red.

She sighed as her blue eyes shifted from her weapons collection hung behind the desk to the stack of PADDs that Cera had no doubt deposited on her desk. It was likely last minute personnel requests, maintenance approvals and the likes, none of which she felt particularly delighted to wade through. She'd already had enough of the last minute personnel headaches to last her a life time.

She was just replicating herself a coffee in an internal deal necessary to tackle the mountain of PADDs when the rear door opened without a chime and a whirlwind blew right through.

"Who is this? I thought we were keeping the old man. A little bit of a know it all but ultimately harmless," Cera Morgan asked by way of a greeting, a PADD waving wildly in her hand as the blonde Quartermaster came stalking into her office.

Tyra's free hand shot out as Cera passed her, grasping the half-Betazoid's wrist to steady the PADD long enough for Tyra to get a look at the cause of the outburst. It was the Quartermaster's request related to Artemis' FO Quarters.

"Oh," was all the captain managed to say before her coffee materialized and she picked it up as if it might make the situation somehow better. It didn't and couldn't. She wasn't certain there was anything that could make the dumpster fire that was the current FO debacle any better, short of Damien's return. And based on how Damien had seemed when she'd visited him and her own unofficial digging, she wasn't feeling very hopeful on that front.

"Oh?" Cera asked, eyebrow arched in a perfect imitation of Tyra's normal look of ire. "'Oh' is you forgot to tell me the latest juicy gossip from Love Island aka the lower decks, not that you failed to mention we have another new first officer."

On the tail end of her first mouth full of coffee, Tyra let out a long suffering sigh. "In my defense, they gave me a list of five candidates 4 hours ago and told me I had an hour to choose. Oh, and they said if I made any attempts to circumvent the list, it would counted as insubordination. The list was 2 Vulcans, Admiral Buchannan's worthless youngest son, a Tellarite and," she waved her hand at Cera's PADD, "him."

Cera looked down at the PADD in her hand, tilting her head slightly. "I mean… he doesn't seem terrible."

The redhead hummed slightly, her shoulder rising in a little shrug. "But possibly too obvious of a choice."

The blonde's head bobbed thoughtfully, her lips pressing together for a moment. "You think it was an illusion of choice. They gave four candidates they knew you wouldn't choose and one they wanted you to choose."

"Possibly. I could see them potentially thinking I would pick Ian Buchannan because of our families' close history over the years but he's a ladder climbing rat if I've ever met one. Then again, if I'd chosen him, we probably could've had an airlock malfunction during launch and done the entire fleet a favor…"

The blonde's lips curled into a momentary grin before her expression settled into a more neutral setting, one Tyra knew meant the Quartermaster was considering all aspects of a situation and possibly working out a course of action.

"I could test the waters, if you want," Cera offered after a few moments of silent consideration.

"No," Tyra stated decisively. "I am on very thin ice and by association, that includes you. We will handle all of this by the book. If he's a rat, it'll become apparent soon enough and if he's not, hopefully a heavy dose of malicious compliance doesn't make his life too terribly difficult."

The Quartermaster's dark eyes lit up for a moment in a way that usually spelled trouble for everyone unfortunate enough to be caught in her web and yet, Tyra felt especially lucky to have the younger woman's unending loyalty in that moment.

"That can I do," Cera said with a momentary grin before it slipped away again and she was turning to exit the room. "I'll make sure someone gets your quarters unpacked before you have to deal with that. If you need any assistance, just call," she called over her shoulder.

The blonde stopped in the doorway, hand curling around the frame of the door. "I did get a special delivery from your favorite former boss. He said to give his love and don't drink it all in one night. Or do. I'll make sure it ends up in its rightful place before launch," she said with a wink before she disappeared entirely.

For a few moments, Tyra remained standing by her desk, eyes firmly set on the now closed door. She didn't particularly like the feeling that she was once again stuck in a chess game she couldn't see and she didn't like not knowing if she'd made the right selection. It had seemed like the obvious choice but if that had been the point, she'd played straight into the admiralty's plans. She supposed she wouldn't know either way until she could assess the situation in person, instead of just reading a career bio.

She couldn't help missing the council of Ben or Damien in that moment but that inevitably led to a suffocating feeling that she might be the next led down that particular path, especially if she had been wrong.

Better hope you didn't sign your own warrant on this one, she mused darkly as she moved around the desk and settled in for some work.

[Sovar]

== Launch Timeline ==

The Artemis was what Sovar had expected it to be. It was an adequate explorer, with deep space scientific sensors, an array of probes, and a sizeable Science Complex that nearly filled an entire deck. Of some intrigue to him, it was also a testbed for Star Fleet’s Quantum Slipstream Drive; the shakedown of which led to Artemis being forged in combat with the Borg. By the accounts he had read in preparation to join the Artemis, its many defensive and offensive capabilities were worth the time and resources Star Fleet had poured into the ship.

Hallways, narrower than the Endeavour’s, were filled with crew bustling about due to the announced recall. Sovar noted that the pervasive chatter was filled with scuttlebutt, and the trading of it was like currency; rumours begot rumours. All of that seemed to quiet or even halt whenever the new First Officer neared. It did not require much to deduce that it was not the colour of his uniform, nor the pips on his collar, that caused such reactions. Sovar was an outsider to the vast majority of the crew; only the newest joining would be exempt from such an assessment. It would be more surprising if they were not cautious about him. An eyebrow then arched on Sovar’s face as he considered how long-term crew and senior leadership like department heads might react to his presence.

Time discovers truth.

Around a bend in the hall ahead of him, a blonde haired officer seemed to slip away from the doors of the Ready Room that was Sovar’s destination. He considered it unfortunate that he could not discern the identity of the person; the revelation of which might have served to determine the Captain’s present mood. And that could have helped him to smooth over the suddenness with which Star Fleet had filled the vacant seat of First Officer aboard her ship. While it would be illogical to hold something like that for which he had no control over, against him, Sovar understood there would be emotions tied to the situation.

Pausing before the closed door, Sovar shifted the PADD to his left hand and gathered himself. In the span of a few seconds he focused on his breathing, did a body scan, and made sure he was present in the moment. The short exercise was sufficient to arrange his thoughts as he reached out for the door chime. As soon as he was bade to enter, he did.

A welcomed aroma of coffee filled his olfactory senses, which was more pleasant than the hanging tension that lingered in the room. Captain Crawford appeared nearly exactly as described to him by a liaison officer assigned to his transfer, and so there was no surprise in her appearance. Sovar’s amber brown eyes then flickered about the room, gathering information and spatial awareness. A large collection of weapons had halted his vision, and it reinforced the knowledge he had of his new Captain. A bookshelf had also caught his attention, and Sovar had to force himself to not linger on the titles contained therein, his curiosity piqued.

“Greetings, Captain,” he stepped toward her and proffered his right hand to her, which would give a firm grasp and a shake if accepted.

“I am Commander Sovar.”

Sovar understood that it was customary among many humans to shake hands upon first meeting. To his knowledge Vulcans found the ritual premature if even distasteful, with touch being reserved for those with much closer, even bonded, relationships. The Edo in him, a sliver of which resided in his hair as a streak of wheat blonde, rather enjoyed the custom. Sovar also couldn’t deny that it was strategic.

“Despite the brevity of my presence aboard Artemis, I have prepared a recommendation list based on my timely observations,” he said, handing over the PADD from his left hand.

It was a tactical move that was part of his overarching strategic plan; using levity in order to lighten the mood of a possibly emotionally charged encounter. The PADD did indeed have a list, if one recommendation could be considered such. If Captain Crawford reviewed it, it was simply a request to have a dry sauna installed in the First Officer’s quarters. Sovar had noted when he scouted the living area that there was plenty of room to accommodate it. Thus, he did not misrepresent himself that the recommendation was made by observation. It was also the most simple, benign request he could make, when other Vulcans might actually make a long list of suggested changes.

“Your Ready Room is intriguing, Captain,” his eyebrow jutted upwards.

“I am optimistic that the weapons are decorative, and find little utilization in day-to-day operations,” Sovar’s face remained stoic as he spoke.

[Tyra Crawford]

== Launch Timeline ==

Two minutes of peace and quiet was all Tyra was blessed with before the door was chiming. Her blues eyes flitted down, quickly assessing her current outfit of black leggings, green hoodie and black low tops with a sigh. She then quickly sorted through the possible visitors, feeling no concern about any member of her senior staff except the newest one.

"Computer, who's at the door?"

[Commander Sovar.]

"****," she muttered, her fingers briefing pinching the bridge of her nose.

Under less tenuous circumstances, she wouldn't have even batted an eye. Hell, she was pretty sure she'd met multiple previous members of her senior staff while already a few drinks in. She wasn't exactly known for her formality but some times, playing the game to win required more of her. And she certainly wasn't giving this asshole any ammo at minute 1.

Fortunately, years of responding to middle of the night red alerts made her extremely efficient at donning the uniform and in under 30 seconds, she was sliding her foot into her last boot and tossing the duffel bag back behind her desk. Her coffee mug was in hand by the time she called for the door to open.

Whatever hopes she might have had that her half-Vulcan selection might have possessed only recessive Vulcan traits was crushed before the man was even through the door. If it weren't for the unusual shock of light hair that broke up the typical Vulcan chili bowl hair style, she probably would have assumed he was fully Vulcan if she'd met him with no context.

Well, that gamble backfired...maybe Ian would have been the better choice.

It wasn't that Tyra didn't like Vulcans -- she'd successfully worked closely with numerous over the years -- but she was honest enough to admit that they weren't her cup of tea and she certainly wasn't theirs. And even as her blue eyes swept over Sovar, she suspected he would fall firmly into that pattern on both sides.

However, his proffered hand did cause a slight mental pause, even if there was no outward hesitation as she accepted the handshake. It was firm and confident as expected but told Tyra little beyond his apparent understanding of Human customs.

“Despite the brevity of my presence aboard Artemis, I have prepared a recommendation list based on my timely observations,” Sovar stated, offering her the PADD from his other hand.

Her eyebrow went up in what might have seemed like surprise to the uninitiated but was closer to a challenge for those that knew her, though her eyes didn't sharpen to match. Instead, her eyes dropped almost immediately to the PADD, expecting a laundry list of recommendations but only findig one.

...a dry sauna? Is it too late to file that retirement paperwork and hand this circus off to someone? Hell, it'll probably be his in a mission any way.

She was mentally calculating whether this was a joke or not when the commander commented on her office, particularly the wall of weapons behind her.

Her blue eyes shifted up as she tipped her head slightly to the side so that the wall hit the edge of her peripheral.

"Oh yes, it's purely ornamental. You'll find that the Artemis is practically pacifistic in nature," she answered dryly with no hint that it was anything but the truth.

She set the PADD down on her desk but made no move to sit down. "The Quartermaster should be able to handle this recommendation along with any other last minute needs you might have. I apologize for the last second nature of your assignment; I know it can be inconvenient."

"I'll admit that I was not afforded the opportunity to... " Her head tilted slightly as she searched for a word that was benign.

"...to review your packet like I would have preferred to so why don't you tell me a little about yourself?" It was phrased as a question but the formality of the request hardly made it seem optional, even as she motioned for him to take a seat across from the desk.

== Tag! ==

[Sovar]

== Launch Timeline ==

The accepted hand, and the shake that went with it, did not outwardly provide Sovar any information about the Captain; except that perhaps she was guarding her feelings. It was when Crawford took the PADD from him that he gleaned something more. Sovar had seen her brow rise, and calculated that she had much more in common with Vulcans than she might realize. Perhaps not perceptible to many others but he also clocked her pause with his so-called ‘list’. It was, in his estimation, not a good sign.

“Oh yes, it's purely ornamental. You'll find that the Artemis is practically pacifistic in nature.”

Without hesitation Sovar turned his face to fully square up with Crawford’s and replied just as dryly,

“Perhaps, then, I should inform the crew?”

Captain Crawford’s retort to his comment on the weapons was, as Sovar decided, sarcastic and very obviously a humorous fabrication. While he had not had the clearance initially to find out much about the Artemis, the Admiralty seemed keen to ensure that there was clarity about his potential future transfer. When an initial request for more information was granted to Sovar, he pressed further and was given an even greater amount of access to the exploits, and follies, of the USS Artemis. If there was a mission, it was rare that it didn’t have some sort of altercation or firefight in the After Action Reports. One in particular that he recalled, had the First Officer fire upon his own crewmember.

As she continued to speak, he realized that his attempt at a joke had fallen flat. The Captain mentioned Cera Morgan, not by name but by position; and he knew her by reputation. Sovar had no doubt Morgan would be able to make arrangements. It was well known within Fleet Logistics that if you wanted something particular and specific, perhaps even rare or questionably obtainable, Morgan could get it. Though in hindsight, if Crawford hadn't taken the request as a joke, Sovar suspected she may have found it puerile.

Everything else that Captain Crawford then said spoke volumes to the tension he had noted when entering the Ready Room. A tension Sovar knew he’d be unable to fully dissipate. Obviously politics were at play, as the gleeful dispensation of historical data by the Admiralty previously informed him. Captain Crawford’s careful phrasing only served to acknowledge the possibility of such a tug of war.

“There was no inconvenience, Captain,” he took up the chair that she had motioned him to.

“I was aware that I would be given a Command position, and was prepared for last minute assignments. I did not, however, know I would be assigned to the Artemis. Only that it was an option, and one that I could not pass upon.”

Sitting straight up in the chair, he was briefly uncertain of just what to tell Captain Crawford about himself. Aside from his very first posting on the Susquehanna, all other Captains had thoroughly vetted his dossier. Did she want his full career history? Or was this about ‘getting to know him’ as Human Captains were so fond of doing?

“Half-Vulcan and half-Edo, I graduated from both the Vulcan Science Academy and Star Fleet Academy; Astrophysics from the former, then Security and Tactical from the latter. I have served aboard the Susquehanna, Biko, and Endeavour with commendations for my service on all three. I also enjoy long walks on the beach…”

He paused for effect.

“...particularly if there is a bonfire to appreciate at the end.”

Sovar let the last part linger with little but a raised brow.

“If I may, Captain, I would like to… ‘clear the air’, to avoid any misunderstandings. It is obvious that there is some tension. I suspect the Admiralty to be behind that. I can assure you that I am not here as a mole or informer. To the contrary, I intend to perform my duties as a First Officer faithfully. That is, to serve the Artemis, her crew, and you, with diligence and discretion. For as long, or short, a time as required.”

== taggity! ==

[Tyra Crawford]

“...particularly if there is a bonfire to appreciate at the end.”

She didn't quite know what to make of the man sitting across from her, though she only allowed a twitch of her eyebrow to escape her control. He was clearly trying, in a dry and subtle manner, to distinguish himself from a full Vulcan and yet, she wasn't certain that was making her feel any better about her choice. There was at least predictability in a full Vulcan; she had no idea what the expectation here was.

Not allowing those thoughts to ruminate in silence, she hummed slightly. "I prefer my bonfires with a side of whiskey but to each their own."

“If I may, Captain, I would like to… ‘clear the air’, to avoid any misunderstandings. It is obvious that there is some tension. I suspect the Admiralty to be behind that. I can assure you that I am not here as a mole or informer. To the contrary, I intend to perform my duties as a First Officer faithfully. That is, to serve the Artemis, her crew, and you, with diligence and discretion. For as long, or short, a time as required.”

Tyra paused to allow that to settle, weighing the words with careful consideration. Part of her wanted to take them at face value. After all, it didn't take much for her to put herself in his shoes. Years earlier, she had been the newly minted FO dropped into a fraught and untrusting environment. She could remember that first meeting Derrick, watching him from across the desk as she tried to convince him that she would be loyal. Nothing she had said had tipped the scale in her favor but Derrick's brutal honesty had at least given her context. She supposed she could give this man that much, even if he did bend to the pressure of those on high.

"You would not be incorrect," she stated after a moment of consideration. "I have recently found myself to be a pawn in a game that I have not desire to be a part of but alas, I have little say in it. Much like, I'm afraid, you won't either if your assignment to this ship is just another move in this ridiculous admiralty-led chess game."

She folded her hands on her desk as she leveled her gaze at him with a seriousness that caused her lips to press together.

"I won't hold that against you but I also don't trust you. That is not a slight on your integrity or on your stated intentions. I just know how this game works and it's rarely in my favor."

"I also do not intend to go out of my way to make your job difficult or you miserable. At this point, I'm miserable enough for both of us and in this instance, misery does not love company," the last was stated with the briefest of self-deprecating half grins.

"With that out in the open, do you have any questions before we begin our respective launch duties?"

== Tag! ==

[Sovar]

The subtle brow twitch on Crawford’s face did not escape Sovar’s notice. All he could do was assume that his attempt at levity had clearly not made the mark. Though he didn’t immediately blame his prowess at humour. It was plausible that Crawford was under a great deal of stress, and she simply did not appreciate his attempts at the current juncture. That was quickly combated when she hummed and replied about his bonfire comment with a reference to a libation.

Was she also utilizing levity in response to me?

After attempting to assuage her that he had no ulterior motives, Sovar watched as Captain Crawford seemed to mull over his words. Studying her features, and measuring the silence that followed, it seemed there was significant contemplation going on, which worried him. The tension that had been in the room gathered and felt oppressive, growing, the longer Crawford waited to speak.

Having served on other ships, with Captains who had wildly varying personalities, Crawford was the first one that gave him a sense of unease. Sovar had to remind himself of her lengthy career. Crawford had lifetimes of experience that some Captains would never achieve, and indeed some Admirals did not have. There was plenty for him to learn from her while serving aboard Artemis, if he managed to survive whatever tumultuous waters he had now found himself in.

"I have recently found myself to be a pawn in a game that I have not desire to be a part of but alas, I have little say in it. Much like, I'm afraid, you won't either if your assignment to this ship is just another move in this ridiculous admiralty-led chess game."

There it is. A truth that should set me free is a truth that turns sour in the ear.

So there was a game, or at least Captain Crawford believed there to be. Sovar had not known her for long, but he had spent a great deal of time studying her career. If anyone in the fleet had razor sharp instincts honed through multiple conflicts and years of service, it would be her. So Sovar had to believe, to some degree, that she was telling the truth.

No Admiral had approached him directly and told him to spy on Crawford and company. It had been odd that he was so easily granted access to nearly whatever file he wanted, which had ended up being extensive. However, as Sovar recalled his interactions with Fleet Command, none of the discussions bore any sign of warning that his installation as First Officer was a calculated move. If it was a chess game, Sovar had probably been the pawn at the board’s edge; they had not expected Crawford to pick him.

As Crawford folded her hands on the desk and turned her hard gaze toward him, Sovar met the look with a stoic ease. Being uncomfortably honest was a trait he had seen from Vulcans all his life, and he wondered internally if Crawford would appreciate him thinking of her in such a fashion. Ultimately, whatever would come next, Sovar knew it would be a harsh truth.

"I won't hold that against you but I also don't trust you.”

A slight puff of air from his nose was all that he allowed to show his passing disappointment. The feeling would not linger for long, as Sovar would do as his duty required. Yet starting off without the trust of someone he would be working with closely with for even a mission, did hurt. It was momentary. Sovar reminded himself of everything he had considered previously; Crawford was operating on years of instinct, and an obvious deep belief of conspiratorial posturing against her from the Admiralty. If he didn’t start with trust from Captain Crawford, it only meant that Sovar would have to earn it. It was as simple as that.

Crawford continued, offering up some solace that she clearly didn’t want to make Sovar miserable in his role. Something he was appreciative of. It was his first Command position, and navigating that would be task enough without adding more pressure from above. However, it was clear that the course set would be turbulent at best, as both he and Crawford would be navigating whatever politics had been set upon them. If Sovar could not make a friend of Crawford, then he was resolute in being her ally; a pawn who reached the end of the board could be powerful indeed.

"With that out in the open, do you have any questions before we begin our respective launch duties?"

Sovar pondered for a moment, as there were a great many things that he could ask about, particularly given the recent revelations. Politics, the state of crew morale, or any number of sensitive personal questions about herself specifically. However, there was only one question that for some reason seemed to stand out beyond the rest, and it was very un-Vulcan of him.

“Neat, or on the rocks?”

He paused for just a moment to give space for Crawford to reply, before finding his way to his feet.

“I believe I understand the current situation, Captain. I will endeavour to earn your trust, should it be attainable. Otherwise, I will do my duty with competency and diligence. If you prefer, I can handle the majority of the tasks required of us prior to launch. It would be an excellent learning opportunity for me, and I need less sleep than the average human.”

Sovar stood at ease in front of Crawford’s desk, waiting to be dismissed.

“If that is all, Captain?”

== tag! ==