Lt. Commander Jo Marshall - Operation Q-Ball (Part I)

[Jo Marshall]

((Bridge, Deck One, USS Gorkon))

 

Silence descended on the Bridge as the large viewscreen showed the visage of a Bolian Starfleet Commander. Unlike many of his species, he had a dark stubble beard growing, a scar tracing across his cheek carving through cobalt blue like a dividing river, and kind eyes as he looked across space at the young blonde First Officer, hands clasped behind her back. 

 

Standing in the forefront of an unfamiliar starship bridge, the Bolian spoke clearly; the product of years trained in the delivery of sensitive information.

 

Reho: =/\= ...However, we will continue our efforts. We have dispatched probes in all directions from this sector, analysing sensor data for traces of the USS Azetbur. ::Those kind eyes didn’t harden as he continued.:: Commander, if we find anything — anything at all — we will inform the Gorkon immediately. Until then, the Xanth will continue the search. =/\=

 

Over the tenuous stretch of days, Search and Rescue teams headed up by Commander Fores Reho combed the sector for the Admiral’s Yacht, coming up short on everything but minuscule traces of warp engine power. This wasn’t an outcome hoped for when the emergency message came through from Starfleet Command — quite the opposite, in many shades of pleading to higher powers Jo didn’t believe in — but Starfleet had definitely put contingencies for such disasters in place. 

 

On first report, the USS Xanth, a Defiant-class vessel, launched from Starbase 123 immediately, like some Fleet Admiral somewhere had snapped their fingers. 

 

Jo took a breath to steady her nerves, unable to find it within her to summon an appreciative smile, let alone anything else. Doing her best to not wring her hands behind her back, she regarded the Bolian Commander on screen, every motion feeling as if she’d separated from the rest of her body; disembodied and cold. 

 

Projecting confidence when none existed.

 

Marshall: =/\= Thank you, sir. Right now, anything will help. =/\=

 

Reho: =/\= Stay safe, Commander. Good hunting. Xanth out. =/\=

 

The image of the blue Bolian winked out of existence as the channel cut; the revolving symbol of Starfleet Command dissipated, and the viewscreen faded back into the beautiful imagery of the swirling and colourful gaseous nebula in the distance. 

 

This was supposed to be simple. A nice, simple outing to stretch their legs, swiftly descending into catastrophe.  

 

Her heart thumped an entirely new rhythm, feeling an awful lot like mild dread. Her blue eyes stared into the middle distance, her mind entirely elsewhere, going over the events of the last few moments, while her brain replayed the emergency communication. Her stomach, hardy as it was, had yet to make a reappearance since it dropped through the floor, and would probably be found by Peek in a few days' time, where he’d carry it around asking who it belonged to.  

 

Steeling herself as Quinn would, she reached up for her communicator and hesitated. 

 

Glancing to the Helm console, to the back of Natália’s head, Jo noticed the woman’s hands on the glossy black console trembled. Having listened to the message in the entirety, she wasn’t surprised. Stepping forward, Jo spoke a little softer than she had to the SAR. 

 

Marshall: Novak, please send out a message to all Senior Staff. Operation Q-Ball is a go. Meeting in the Primary Shuttlebay in fifteen minutes. 

 

 

TBC

 

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Lt. Commander Jo Marshall

First Officer

USS Gorkon, NCC-82293

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