05-23-2026, 10:01 PM
== 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.
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.