CDR Naxell — The Black Widows
Naxell
((OOC: This marks the start of the new mission! Please wrap up your lingering shoreleave and ceremony sims, and feel free to jump in after reading! Hopefully you’ve got everything you need in this sim to get you oriented.))
((Captain’s Ready Room, Deck 1, USS Khitomer, at warp))
Some captains kept their desks and offices spartan. Clean. Free from distraction. The theory, some said, was that it enhanced focus and deliberation, that it streamlined the thought process and increased mental efficiency. But Nax-Ellarneii-Tellargo had long ago learned that his mind worked better when it was given room to wander. He kept his quarters and his office tastefully decorated, with many a bump and prickle on which his thoughts might get jostled or caught.
Naxell: ::clearing his voice:: Captain's log, stardate 240303.21. It's been almost two days since Khitomer left Deep Space 33, and we are less than an hour from our destination—a vast, nigh impenetrable nebula within the Ceram Archipelago. Normally, I would relish the chance to add to the Federation’s knowledge, but our orders do not concern themselves with scientific study.
He leaned forward in his seat, and reached out to rearrange some of the framed photos arranged on the corner of his desk. There were a great number of them, multiple for each of his families, and he ran a thumb across the image of his daughter's cheek. Then he continued.
Naxell: But Starfleet has not sent us out here as explorers. They are, as ever, concerned about the Lattice Alliance. Warp trails and Sencha weapons were—briefly—detected in this vicinity nine days ago, but have not been sensed since. A great many fantastical rumors persist about this region of space. If the stories of pirates and siren songs are half true, perhaps the Archipelago might solve our Lattice problem for us, and give the crew some much-needed quiet for a scientific survey. But I have never put much stock in rumors as anything more than the wishes and fears of their mongers.
He stood from his desk and glanced towards the starstreaks out his window. He took inventory of his feelings and apprehensions. He did not need his first mission on his first command to be a momentous one. His career had been, by some uncharitable descriptions, “plodding.” It would bother him little if this humdrum expedition to Ceram resolved into nothing but a report of a missed skirmish before a colorful backdrop. But, if it became something more, perhaps the plod-sayers might take note, if not the history books.
He tapped a key on his PADD to conclude his log entry, and headed towards his door.
((Bridge))
Naxell: Helm, report?
The bridge was quiet, it had been a long journey and if there was any anticipation or tension about things, they had plenty of time to settle and dissipate. So far, the crew had performed admirably, adjusting to his pace and drills with professional competence.
Korras: Response
Naxell: Excellent. Still on schedule. Smooth flight, I assume?
C. Dewitt: Response
He sat at his command chair and read along as Lt. Commander Dewitt spoke. The First Officer's report was succinct and perfunctory. But what else did he expect? Whales made of minnows? He made sure to keep track of his key officers—Semara, Nicholotti, and Zerva assessing the "intelligence," if it could be called that. Michaels and Morda were taking no precautions and securing Engineering, while Lt. Commander Ohnari was taking no precautions and keeping an eye on Lt. J/G Michaels. That left Lieutenant El'Heem in the science lab, hopefully ready to do some real science for a change, with Ensigns Matthews and Melville-Kilpatrick in tow.
Naxell: And long-range scans?
Stros: Response
As the Vulcan spoke, Commander Naxell's eyes fixed on the viewscreen which displayed similar starstreaks to those out his ready room window. The absence of sensor pings could indicate that whatever they were investigating needed closer inspection, or it could mean that whatever happened there was over, done, and swept away.
Naxell: Hm. We'll try again when we drop out of warp.
Comfortable, he tapped idly on his armrest readout before turning to his left.
Naxell: And what do you make of these rumors, Counselor Dewitt? A cloud that can't be scanned, that no one who dares go in comes out? “Amazonian man-eaters?”
A. Dewitt: Response
Korras: Response
At the helmsman’s call, Khitomer dropped out of warp and the starstreaks resolved themselves into a starscape. Or, rather, they might have if they weren't obscured by a vast, gently glowing violet mist. It was pretty, he couldn't deny, but before they could consider the cloud itself they had to resolve the question of a present enemy threat.
C. Dewitt / Stros: Response
Naxell: Visual range?
Stros: Response
If they couldn't get a good read, odds were good that the other ship couldn't either. If they'd even been spotted at all, a targeting lock sounded impossible.
Naxell: Very well. Yellow alert. ::pointing at the viewscreen:: Can you give us a graphical representation, Mr. Stros?
Stros: Response
An overhead illustration of the long range readings appeared on the screen. A wavy line cut diagonally up from the floor towards the ceiling, presumably representing the far border of the cloud. A single circle represented the lonely ship with the Lattice Alliance signature, and it moved slowly and steadily away from the cloud. It looked… adrift.
Naxell: Any guesses as to what we're looking at?
C. Dewitt / Stros / Korras / A. Dewitt: Response
TBC
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Commander Nax-Ellarneii-Tellargo
Commanding Officer
USS Khitomer (NCC-62400)
A240001NH3