Vice Admiral Quinn Reynolds - More Than Words
Quinn Reynolds
((Conference Room, USS Gorkon))
The tall windows of the conference room offered a spectacular view. The cavernous interior of a spacedock, a technological hollow in space, filled with docked ships large and small. Sleek Tyrellian designs, fierce Klingon builds, cancrine Ferengi merchant vessels, and more. It was a kaleidoscope of aesthetics, all under one roof. Workbees flitted through the interior, bright in their sunny livery, many of them swarming around the Gorkon and the gaping wound in its side.
Quinn sat perched on the edge of the long table, a fresh mug of tea in her hands, watching the world go by. Cargo loads and unloads. Refuelling. Maintenance. Repairs. It was all so normal, so mundane and everyday. The events of the past few days felt like a bad dream—which, in some ways, they were—and yet she couldn’t shake them off with the other cobwebs of the night.
Reynolds: Captain’s Log, stardate 239904.20. ::She paused, hardly knowing where to begin.:: We’re home again. Technically, the mission was a success; we rescued the Triumphant and its crew, and many of the Sasu Gol’s crew. The former have returned to their ship. The latter have transferred to the station, and are receiving support from Federation and Tyrellian authorities.
Her gaze dropped, thumbs along the rim of her mug. Not everyone had come back from the Sasu Gol, and it seemed a disturbed Vulcan named Diinr was mostly—if not totally—responsible for that. Strange tales of an artefact in the cargo had returned with the Alieth, Objectionable Marshall, and Stoyer. Even stranger, the description of the artefact had been a very close match to the Sunama Hamua, literally the “Gateway to Hell”, from Tyrellian legend.
Reynolds: But it came at a heavy cost. We lost the Sasu Gol to the Rift, and the Gorkon suffered substantial casualties. I’ve entrusted our repairs to the engineers at Iana Station, who are working alongside our security and intelligence staff as they investigate the cause of the explosion on deck eight. It’ll take time to sort through the wreckage and get all the answers, but the preliminary findings are troubling. There are indications this wasn’t a malfunction or an accident, but the result of an intentional act.
The implications hung in the air, heavy and troubling. After previous interference from the Orion Syndicate, Quinn—with the full backing of Starfleet—had instituted much more stringent security measures on the ship. To think someone might have got past them was disturbing, and so was the idea someone loyal had been turned. But it was too early to jump to conclusions, too soon to assign motivations.
Reynolds: In the meantime, both the crews of the Gorkon and the Triumphant are taking shore leave to recover from their experiences. They’ll need time to heal, some physically, but most have wounds a little less obvious to mend.
She was hoping to find the time to visit Cyrithra Forest, maybe the Mindirra Mountains, some of her favourite haunts on the planet. But already she had the sneaking suspicion forensic reports, interview transcripts, and all the other baggage of an internal affairs investigation would eat up her time.
The doors parted, and Walter stepped inside the conference room, his long legs carrying him in his usual determined march. He walked around the conference table and parked himself next to her, the heels of his hand on the edge of the table, legs stretched out ahead of him.
Reynolds: Computer, end log.
The computer chirped. Quinn leaned into the man at her side, and he slipped his arm around her waist. Neither felt the need to speak, the long silence far from a discomfort. Together, they watched a Red Carrier liner slide into its berth with a precision and grace one wouldn’t expect from something so massive.
Speaking of...
Reynolds: I hear Desoa is going to be all right.
Brunsig: In more ways than one. ::There was a sly slant to his words, and she cocked her head in curiosity, but he didn’t explain.:: We all are. Your medics—your crew—did good work. Thank them for me.
Reynolds: I will.
She nodded. Although the Gorkon had suffered casualties and damage, if not for the resourcefulness and determination of its crew, they would have lost many lives to the Rift and the accident. One task still on her list was to finish compiling her recommendations for commendations, something she wanted to take the time over and make sure she got right.
Brunsig: How’s the new recruit?
Reynolds: She’s very cute. ::A faint chuckle slipped past her lips.:: You forget how tiny they are. I was going to stop by to see how they’re all getting on in a week or so. Why don’t you come with me?
Brunsig: I might.
They lapsed into silence again. Each subtly shifted to be a little closer, and Quinn rested her head against him. A faint smile found her lips, reminded of the time Lieutenant JG Reynolds had woken up on his shoulder. To this day, she wasn’t sure which of them had been more embarrassed about it. She was sure that neither had thought it would lead to where they were today.
And there they sat for a while, watching the world go by, and content to simply be.
Commanding Officer
USS Gorkon
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