Capt. Shayne: We're Off!
Randal Shayne
((Deck 1, Conference Room, USS Khitomer))
Shayne smoothed his old black and grey duty tunic as he prepared for the briefing. The chronometer over the viewscreen should 0759 hours precisely, and he stood just shy of the door’s sensor. Punctuality was important, but so was an avoidance of small talk- putting aside the fact that he wasn’t in the mood, they all desperately needed a mission, a goal, an agenda to get them back into the swing of things. It had taken more time than expected to bring the Khitomer up to full specs, which was partly Shayne’s fault, of course; if he didn’t want to spend more time in the yard, he shouldn’t have allowed his ship to nearly blow up. Still, Connor and his engineering team had done an outstanding job. Deep Space 9’s crew, on the other hand, could learn a thing or two about refit designs.
They were, however, at warp. Finally. The ship felt right. A little stiff, but right.
The chronometer ticked over- 0800. Perfect. Shayne stepped forward, and tried not to meet anyone’s eyes. He didn’t know what he’d see in them, but he did know that he would notice the absence of Jacin, Campbell, Zenno. One lost to the enemy, one lost to medical leave, and one just… lost. Each of them left a small pinprick of a hole in his heart, and after awhile, the pain became as much a part of him as any opinion he’d ever held. It stung terribly.
The thought of shaving someone’s head and painting them blue to avoid the distracting absence of their resident Bolian crossed his mind briefly, and he tried not to snicker at precisely who would be volunteered for such a tasteless task.
Any: Response
Shayne: Good morning all. Thank you all for your timeliness-
The doors split open and revealed the final, late officer, who took the nearest open seat with a slightly sheepish bearing. Shayne’s scowl momentarily deepened, but he continued unabated.
Shayne: Thank you most for your timeliness. Starfleet seems to think it’s time for a change of pace.
An isolinear chip was slipped carefully into the hidden slot in the holotable, and a stellar chart expanded above them- one, two, three parsecs square. Stars edged the image, but the central mass was… empty. Dubiously, almost erroneously empty. The incongruous nothingness was pressed upon by stars on all sides, and yet…
Shayne: Not exactly the Boötes Void, but still a sizable chunk of seemingly empty space. Our primary mission is to investigate this area of space. Figure out what’s causing it, learn what we can from it, etc.
He scanned the table for signs of questions.
Any: Response
Shayne: Science, I’ll be looking to you for answers when we arrive; you’ll have priority on sensor focus for the duration.
He eyed the two ensigns in blue; it was an unusual arrangement, but the pair of ensigns had already proposed some fascinating upgrades to the Khitomer’s operational capacities, and he hoped the pair’s first real, proper science-focused mission would further focus their efforts.
Zanti/Matthews: Response
Shayne: Engineering, I’d like to boost the gain and the refinement of our long range scanning equipment. Our first scans should take place a long way out from the voidspace itself, just to be on the safe side. What can we do to make that happen?
His question was largely addressed to Connor, but he also eyed Michaels to let her know she’d not be off the hook simply because she was the junior officer. No, good ideas came from any rank and any position, and he had a supreme taste for good ideas.
Dewitt/Michaels: Response
Suddenly he found it hard to look at Connor in the eye; his intentions for a safe approach were genuine, but there was no denying the tinge of busywork that his suggestion reeked of. Keep Connor busy. Keep Connor busy. Anything to get his mind off Jacin.
He nodded.
Shayne: Let me know what I can do to assist. Mr. Brenner, this could be a simple, safe approach. Then again, it might not be. Without large stellar bodies there it’s difficult to predict gravitic eddies, so we need to be especially wary.
Brenner: Response
The last people he planned on giving specific instructions to was the other pair of blue collars.
Shayne: Doctors, we do not believe the void poses a medical threat to the ship; but Starfleet history has proven that voids can be unhealthy for the crew. Keep a weather eye out for signs of exhaustion, overstimulation, cellular degradation- anything that might indicate an issue.
Ohnari/El’Heem: Response
He knew he didn’t have to inform Ash of what to do, and it seemed redundant to ask security officer Zerva to secure, so he simply skipped over to the last couple matters to address.
Shayne: For those of you who’ve not had the privilege of meeting her during shore leave, this is…
And here he paused, trying not to say “Miss”.
Shayne: …Vada. She is an independent journalist, come aboard to represent what’s happening in the Isles to the folks back home.
He considered a warning; that the crew should not look at her as a simple civilian, as she had left Starfleet before anyone else present had joined, and could comport herself. But that was for Vada to reveal or not as she pleased, and the comportment part… well, that remained to be seen.
Vada: Response
Shayne: I’ve ensured that you’re free to travel about the ship, and you’ll have access to the bridge, engineering and the like. If there are any troubles, don’t hesitate to-
A bosun’s whistle sounded, and Shayne’s eyelids drooped despondent. He hated interruptions. Most of the crew knew to avoid poking him during a mission briefing; if something was coming up, it was important.
Shayne: This is Shayne.
Voice: =/\= Sorry for the interruption, sir; we’re getting a distress transponder communique at extreme range. =/\=
Shayne’s eyes glanced to Hobart, intrigued.
Hobart/Any: Response
Shayne: =/\= Plot a course to intercept the signal, and bump us up to Warp 8. =/\=
He closed the channel, and appraised his crew.
Shayne: Alright people, quick stop to pick up someone in a spot of bother, then we’re right back to the void analysis. Ensign Brenner, take the helm; the rest of you, rescue protocols.
He did some very rough math in his head; the strength of the Khitomer’s sensors, factored in distance to which a transponder could reach out before its signal degraded.
Shayne: We’ve got half an hour to prep; let’s make it happen.
Any: Response
Tag/TBC…
Captain Randal Shayne
Commanding Officer
USS Khitomer
NCC 62400
G239202RS0