05-12-2025, 02:58 AM
(This post was last modified: 05-12-2025, 03:01 AM by Morad Ameen.)
== That's a lot of posts to catch up on and reply to. Excellent work everyone. ==
Ameen had just issued his initial, sweeping request for a sitrep to the young Ops officer – for arrival statuses, crew complement, and overall ship readiness – when the bridge doors began to cycle with a sudden influx of personnel. Before the Ensign could fully compile or deliver that comprehensive report, the very officers Ameen had named, and needed most, began to materialize, reporting for duty with commendable speed.
The disciplined arrivals of his senior team, one after another, cut through some of the initial chaos.
Good. People are moving quickly. We'll need that...
His internal focus sharpened, pushing aside the lingering questions about Fleet Captain Vakir's opaqueness for now. Action was required. He turned his attention first to the Hermat engineer he knew so well.
"Lieutenant Commander Keir 77," Ameen said, his voice firm and clear, a nod of acknowledgement. "Good to have you aboard. You are my acting First Officer and Chief Engineer for this assignment. Your immediate priority is full systems diagnostics and to confirm engineering readiness for departure. Interface with Ops. We need to know what we're working with, every potential ghost in these old machines."
He trusted Keir implicitly to understand the magnitude of that task under the current pressure. Before Keir could reply, Lieutenant Gath's earlier report needed addressing. Ameen turned to the Klingon Security Chief, who had already demonstrated initiative.
"Lieutenant Gath, your proactive measures are noted and appreciated. Maintain control of all access points. Ensure your teams are fully briefed on rapid departure protocols. Your assessment of 100% manning for Security is good news."
His gaze then shifted, deliberately professional, to the next officer standing at attention. Lieutenant Amila Ra'an. For the briefest of moments, seeing her there on his bridge – capable, present, a spark of familiarity in this whirlwind of newness – caused the corner of his mouth to betray the faintest hint of a smile. It was an almost imperceptible lift, gone as swiftly as it had come, immediately overlaid by the mask of command. He’d already noted her qualifications on the PADD.
Focus, Ameen...
"Lieutenant Ra'an," he said, his tone now perfectly even and direct. "Your record from the Titania highlights not only your academic strengths in areas like Chemistry and Temporal Mechanics, but also your practical application of scientific analysis in complex situations. You will act as Chief Science Officer aboard the Zephyr. Take the science station, familiarize yourself with its capabilities – particularly the long-range sensor arrays – and be prepared to report on any anomalies enroute or upon arrival at Trill." His expression was unreadable, purely that of a commander issuing an assignment.
Amila. Here. Under my command... oh boy...
Later, when a sliver of a moment allowed, the thought would return, his stomach doing a slow roll. That brief, involuntary softening when he'd addressed her was a stark reminder of the tightrope he was now walking. Strict professionalism is paramount, absolutely. No question, especially now, especially here.
But... I need to speak with her, privately, as soon as there's a sane moment – if one ever comes on this assignment. This... us... we need to figure out how, or even if, we can navigate this. I still don't want that one date to be the end of it, even if any continuation has to be... exceptionally discreet...
For now, though, any personal considerations had to be ruthlessly suppressed. Duty first.
The manifest also listed Medical Lieutenant Evie O’Fee. Her service record looked strong. She’ll be Chief Medical Officer. That’s another critical position I can mentally tick off, assuming she reports in soon...
Finally, he turned to the Ensign who had reported, another familiar face from his previous ship.
"Ensign Torok Powl," Ameen said, a hint of recognition in his voice. "Good to see you. You handled the helm of the Titania with skill, and that position demands a keen understanding of tactical applications." He paused, his gaze assessing but decisive.
An Ensign is very junior for a department head, but I know his work ethic, and these are not ordinary circumstances...
"The Zephyr needs an Acting Chief Tactical Officer, effective immediately. That duty falls to you. Take the tactical station. Report shield status, weapons readiness, and get intimately familiar with this ship's defensive and offensive systems. I expect your best."
Keir as First Officer and Chief Engineer. Gath handling Security. Amila taking Science. Powl stepping up for Tactical, and O’Fee designated for Medical. Ameen mentally reviewed the core positions. That’s it. A full complement of senior staff and department heads, pieced together in minutes from the manifest and those who’ve walked onto this bridge...
He then addressed the officers now assembled before him and those still finding their stations.
"Thank you all for your swift arrival," Ameen said, his voice carrying a note of command that was also appreciative. "I realize this summons was abrupt and likely cut short any personal time or other duties you had on Deep Space Nine. My apologies for that. However, Starfleet has given us an urgent assignment. Duty calls, and we have a ship to get underway."
He made a quick visual sweep of the bridge. It was still a patchwork of activity, and the young Ops lieutenant he’d first addressed was no doubt still working to gather the comprehensive data he’d requested, even as these individual reports came in. His gaze flicked towards the helm station, which was likely still being settled by a newly transferred flight control officer.
"Helm," Ameen called out, his voice cutting cleanly through the low murmur of frantic preparation. "Plot course to the Trill system, maximum sustainable warp. And begin preparations for immediate undocking. Report status and when you are ready to disengage from Deep Space Nine."
One hour to Trill and that means every single assigned soul needs to be confirmed aboard before we even think about releasing those docking clamps. We can't afford to leave anyone behind, and I need assurance we have the necessary personnel and provisions across all departments.
That overall crew status was still pending from Ops, a critical piece of the departure puzzle. Every second counts. With his department heads—acting or otherwise—now assigned, and pre-departure sequences being initiated, the Zephyr was inching closer to becoming a coherent, operational unit.
== Tag =
Ameen had just issued his initial, sweeping request for a sitrep to the young Ops officer – for arrival statuses, crew complement, and overall ship readiness – when the bridge doors began to cycle with a sudden influx of personnel. Before the Ensign could fully compile or deliver that comprehensive report, the very officers Ameen had named, and needed most, began to materialize, reporting for duty with commendable speed.
The disciplined arrivals of his senior team, one after another, cut through some of the initial chaos.
Good. People are moving quickly. We'll need that...
His internal focus sharpened, pushing aside the lingering questions about Fleet Captain Vakir's opaqueness for now. Action was required. He turned his attention first to the Hermat engineer he knew so well.
"Lieutenant Commander Keir 77," Ameen said, his voice firm and clear, a nod of acknowledgement. "Good to have you aboard. You are my acting First Officer and Chief Engineer for this assignment. Your immediate priority is full systems diagnostics and to confirm engineering readiness for departure. Interface with Ops. We need to know what we're working with, every potential ghost in these old machines."
He trusted Keir implicitly to understand the magnitude of that task under the current pressure. Before Keir could reply, Lieutenant Gath's earlier report needed addressing. Ameen turned to the Klingon Security Chief, who had already demonstrated initiative.
"Lieutenant Gath, your proactive measures are noted and appreciated. Maintain control of all access points. Ensure your teams are fully briefed on rapid departure protocols. Your assessment of 100% manning for Security is good news."
His gaze then shifted, deliberately professional, to the next officer standing at attention. Lieutenant Amila Ra'an. For the briefest of moments, seeing her there on his bridge – capable, present, a spark of familiarity in this whirlwind of newness – caused the corner of his mouth to betray the faintest hint of a smile. It was an almost imperceptible lift, gone as swiftly as it had come, immediately overlaid by the mask of command. He’d already noted her qualifications on the PADD.
Focus, Ameen...
"Lieutenant Ra'an," he said, his tone now perfectly even and direct. "Your record from the Titania highlights not only your academic strengths in areas like Chemistry and Temporal Mechanics, but also your practical application of scientific analysis in complex situations. You will act as Chief Science Officer aboard the Zephyr. Take the science station, familiarize yourself with its capabilities – particularly the long-range sensor arrays – and be prepared to report on any anomalies enroute or upon arrival at Trill." His expression was unreadable, purely that of a commander issuing an assignment.
Amila. Here. Under my command... oh boy...
Later, when a sliver of a moment allowed, the thought would return, his stomach doing a slow roll. That brief, involuntary softening when he'd addressed her was a stark reminder of the tightrope he was now walking. Strict professionalism is paramount, absolutely. No question, especially now, especially here.
But... I need to speak with her, privately, as soon as there's a sane moment – if one ever comes on this assignment. This... us... we need to figure out how, or even if, we can navigate this. I still don't want that one date to be the end of it, even if any continuation has to be... exceptionally discreet...
For now, though, any personal considerations had to be ruthlessly suppressed. Duty first.
The manifest also listed Medical Lieutenant Evie O’Fee. Her service record looked strong. She’ll be Chief Medical Officer. That’s another critical position I can mentally tick off, assuming she reports in soon...
Finally, he turned to the Ensign who had reported, another familiar face from his previous ship.
"Ensign Torok Powl," Ameen said, a hint of recognition in his voice. "Good to see you. You handled the helm of the Titania with skill, and that position demands a keen understanding of tactical applications." He paused, his gaze assessing but decisive.
An Ensign is very junior for a department head, but I know his work ethic, and these are not ordinary circumstances...
"The Zephyr needs an Acting Chief Tactical Officer, effective immediately. That duty falls to you. Take the tactical station. Report shield status, weapons readiness, and get intimately familiar with this ship's defensive and offensive systems. I expect your best."
Keir as First Officer and Chief Engineer. Gath handling Security. Amila taking Science. Powl stepping up for Tactical, and O’Fee designated for Medical. Ameen mentally reviewed the core positions. That’s it. A full complement of senior staff and department heads, pieced together in minutes from the manifest and those who’ve walked onto this bridge...
He then addressed the officers now assembled before him and those still finding their stations.
"Thank you all for your swift arrival," Ameen said, his voice carrying a note of command that was also appreciative. "I realize this summons was abrupt and likely cut short any personal time or other duties you had on Deep Space Nine. My apologies for that. However, Starfleet has given us an urgent assignment. Duty calls, and we have a ship to get underway."
He made a quick visual sweep of the bridge. It was still a patchwork of activity, and the young Ops lieutenant he’d first addressed was no doubt still working to gather the comprehensive data he’d requested, even as these individual reports came in. His gaze flicked towards the helm station, which was likely still being settled by a newly transferred flight control officer.
"Helm," Ameen called out, his voice cutting cleanly through the low murmur of frantic preparation. "Plot course to the Trill system, maximum sustainable warp. And begin preparations for immediate undocking. Report status and when you are ready to disengage from Deep Space Nine."
One hour to Trill and that means every single assigned soul needs to be confirmed aboard before we even think about releasing those docking clamps. We can't afford to leave anyone behind, and I need assurance we have the necessary personnel and provisions across all departments.
That overall crew status was still pending from Ops, a critical piece of the departure puzzle. Every second counts. With his department heads—acting or otherwise—now assigned, and pre-departure sequences being initiated, the Zephyr was inching closer to becoming a coherent, operational unit.
== Tag =