To Your Duties!

Posted on 2026, Tue Apr 21st, @ 5:57pm by Lieutenant Commander Jep Fallo & Lieutenant Bill Meeeeeeehehehheheeheh & Captain Rhyx Kade & Lieutenant Tavi Renn & Lieutenant Joseph Benjamin Md & Lieutenant Daven Voss & Lieutenant JG Eska
Edited on on 2026, Thu Apr 23rd, @ 1:58pm

2,302 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: Episode 1 "Operation Iron Justice" USS Halo, Star Base 113, USS Vigilance
Location: USS Halo, at warp
Timeline: MD-5

((USS Halo, Bridge))

The ship was transiting through transwarp towards Starbase 513, where they would begin the search for the missing ships. A 6th ship had gone missing in the 2 days since they had departed HQ. 513 was one of the furthest space stations that the Federation had ever constructed and was on the edge of the frontiers of known space at the edge of the Theatres area of operations. Even with the transwarp drive kicked in, it would still take them another 3 days to arrive at the remote putpost.

Jep Fallo was taking a now rare shift at the Helm, covering for Ensign Torres, who had, like several others onboard, contracted the Ribolian Flu.

Lieutenant Daven Voss sat at what supposedly passed for an intelligence station on the bridge—though "station" was perhaps too generous a term. It was more accurately described as "a chair with a console that someone had optimistically labeled for intelligence use." He'd spent the better part of the first day of travel just trying to configure the workspace into something functionally useful for actual intelligence analysis, with limited success.

The holographic display he'd managed to jury-rig showed data compilations on the now six missing vessels, though he had to keep manually reconfiguring the interface because the station wasn't designed for the kind of multi-layered pattern analysis he needed to conduct..

"So if you don't mind my asking sir...you're an El Aurian, right? So, how old are you?" The Grazerite asked the new Captain, who was seated behind him.

Lieutenant Voss' eyebrows raised slightly at the personal nature of the question. He decided not to comment; instead, he kept his attention on the data analysis and the continuing struggle with his minimally functional workspace.

The Grazerite’s question hung in the air a moment longer than it should have—part curiosity, part the uneasy awareness that El-Aurians never answered anything like a simple number.

Rhyx Talan Kade didn’t look up immediately from the PADD in his hand. When he finally did, it wasn’t with irritation—just that steady, assessing quiet he carried into every room that had ever become a problem later.

“Most people ask that like it’s a single answer,” he said evenly.

A brief pause. Not dramatic—measured, like he was deciding how much history to compress into something that would still be useful.

“I was born before Starfleet Security was Starfleet Security. Before most of what you think of as ‘Federation doctrine’ existed in its current form.”

He leaned back slightly, gaze drifting past the bulkhead as if the ship itself had shifted in time under his thoughts.

“I was twenty when I first stepped into what would eventually become Starfleet operational structure. Thirty when the Federation formally unified its security frameworks. I was already old enough by then to recognize a pattern Starfleet would spend the next two centuries learning the hard way.”

That earned a faint glance from a nearby officer. Kade didn’t acknowledge it.

“You’re asking my age because I’m El-Aurian,” he continued. “That’s the wrong question. We don’t measure experience the same way you do.”

A beat.

“If you need a number…” His eyes returned to the Grazerite, calm and direct. “I’m old enough to have watched Starfleet make the same mistake more than once. And patient enough to keep correcting it when it does.”

He tapped the PADD once, closing it.

“And for the record—I was at Wolf 359.”

That last line wasn’t delivered for emphasis. It didn’t need it.

In the silence that followed, Kade finally added—almost as an afterthought:

“Age is irrelevant. Patterns aren’t.”

"Welcome aboard Lt," Fallo said gregariously towards Voss as he half turned from his console.

Lieutenant Voss looked up from his console at Lieutenant Commander Fallo's greeting, managing a polite nod that was more professional courtesy than genuine warmth. Small talk had never been his strength—especially with people he'd just met, on a ship he'd only been aboard for a few days, while trying to analyze why six vessels had disappeared without a trace.

"Thank you, Commander," Voss replied with measured professionalism. "I'm still familiarizing myself with the Halo's systems and operational protocols."

"I noticed you working on your console there a few shifts ago. Do you have everything you need? Since the Frontier Day incident, we've had to de-network alot of systems across the fleet. Have you tied in uplinks to the Flight Control Centre from the hangar and the operations fusion cell on deck 5?" Fallo followed up, taking a keen interest in the young new Intel Chief. Though he knew his time in the temporary role as Second Officer might be fleeting, but he was determined to do the best he could in the time he had.

"I appreciate the concern, sir, but actually—no, I haven't tied into the Flight Control Centre or the operations fusion cell on deck 5," Lieutenant Voss said with deliberate precision. "And I'd prefer to keep it that way, for operational security reasons."

He gestured to his intelligence station. "For intelligence work, I prefer siloed systems that provide everything I need without worrying about cross-departmental access. Multiple departments sharing integrated databases creates vulnerabilities—both in terms of information security and operational compartmentalization." he added.

"This is the Fleet Lt. Not an analysis cubicle. You'll be asked for intel assessments.on the fly. You might wanna have a secondary console with an uplink, otherwise you might miss out on something. I'm usually in the pit on your right there if you need a hand with anything. I'm LCdr Jep Fallo, Head of Flight Operations by the way, pleasure to serve with you."

He's a pilot, of course he thinks connectivity equals efficiency The Trill thought to himself as he suppressed a groan.

Lieutenant Voss felt the engineering instincts of his prior host, Telak, surge forward immediately—a detailed technical explanation about why creating secondary console uplinks to Flight Control would introduce unnecessary attack surfaces, create redundant data pathways that complicated security protocols, and fundamentally misunderstood how intelligence compartmentalization should function in operational environments. He wanted to explain in excruciating detail why that's architecturally unsound and operationally dangerous.

But before those words could form, the diplomatic experience of his prior host, Miran, intercepted with the kind of practiced deflection that had navigated far more contentious conversations than technical disagreements with well-meaning superior officers.

"Thank you for the introduction, Commander Fallo," Voss replied with professional courtesy that masked his internal debate. "I appreciate your concern for operational efficiency. You raise valid points about real-time intelligence assessment requirements."

Kade had been quiet through most of it—close enough to hear, far enough not to interfere. That was usually where he preferred to exist on a bridge: within reach of the conversation, but not anchored to it.

At Voss’s last reply, he finally shifted.

The PADD in his hand dimmed as he closed it with a soft tap, then he pushed off from where he’d been standing at the edge of the command area.

No announcement. No need to.

He started walking.

Not toward any one station—just the bridge itself.

A slow circuit, measured pace, eyes moving as they always did: not looking at people first, but at systems. Consoles. Interfaces. The quiet rhythm of how the ship was being used rather than how it was designed.

He passed behind the tactical station, then angled slightly toward the center, hands loosely clasped behind his back.

“Lieutenant Voss,” he said at last, tone even, conversational in the way it was when he wasn’t actually asking permission to speak, just choosing to.

No need for rank emphasis. He already knew it.

“You’re thinking in terms of clean architecture.”

A faint pause as he continued walking, not breaking stride.

“That’s a useful mindset in peacetime. It gives you control over variables. Predictability. Boundaries.”

He stopped briefly near the edge of a display cluster, glancing at the readouts—not reading them so much as confirming they were behaving the way they claimed to be.

Then he continued.

“The problem is, this isn’t a clean environment anymore.”

Another few steps.

His voice stayed steady, neither critical nor approving—just observational.

“After Frontier Day, every system you trust is only as trustworthy as its last compromise audit. And most of those audits assume you already know what you’re looking for.”

A slight tilt of his head, almost imperceptible.

“You don’t.”

He passed behind Fallo now, close enough to acknowledge him with the smallest glance but not enough to interrupt his work.

Kade’s attention drifted back to Voss.

“That’s not a flaw in your thinking,” he added. “It’s a gap in experience.”

He paused again, this time near the forward view of the bridge, looking out for a moment at nothing in particular—just space beyond the glass.

“You’ll learn quickly that intelligence work doesn’t reward isolation.”

A beat.

“It rewards anticipation.”

"Captain, with respect," Voss began, his tone carrying diplomatic precision tempered by historical awareness, "I understand your point about anticipation and interconnected intelligence. But it was over 30 years ago that the Dominion infiltrated Starfleet just prior to the onset of hostilities, completely throwing us off-guard." He said, citing the various instances of covert action by the Founders.

"Deep integration of intelligence systems meant changelings could access multiple departments simultaneously, creating comprehensive pictures of Federation capabilities and vulnerabilities. Anticipation through connectivity gave our enemies exactly the comprehensive awareness we thought it would give us." He stated, remembering distinctly the fear that ripped through Earth immediately after the Antwerp Bombing and the subsequent security lockdowns.

"You're absolutely correct that isolation doesn't reward intelligence work. But neither does integration without proper security architecture. What Miran had learned across decades of diplo--- what I have learned" He said, catching himself from speaking as his prior host. "--is that the Federation's instinct toward openness and connectivity, while admirable philosophically, creates exploitable patterns." He said.

Fallo just sucked gently on the inside of a cheek and held his tongue. He knew Voss would either learn or he wouldn't, and by the same token, he would either do a good job or he wouldn't. Little would be gained by continuing the dog pile on the kid alongside the ships temporary CO. Jep knew that Voss likely wasn't aware of his past experience in Intel, and was simply following best practices as far as he had been tought and trained.

"Entering sector 2709 momentarily. Don't blink or you might miss it. Stellar mass black hole coming up on our right here shortly if anyone from your department needs some busy work Commander Situs.." Fallo reported half jokingly, and half trying to divert from the previous conversation.

Tavi stepped onto the bridge of his new assignment for the first time, with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He wasn't sure why; he assumed it was just because this was a new ship. But he couldn't be sure. Regardless, he kept those thoughts to himself as he moved to his station.

Fallo noticed another of the new faces arrive on the bridge. The pilot recalled that Lt. Renn would be dual hatting the Diplomat and Ships Counselor roles. As he checked the chrono and saw that the Lt was 20 minutes early for his shift, and Jep allowed himself a half a smile, things were starting to come together aboard the flagship finally.


((Sickbay))

With a crew of just over 2200 with their current configuration and loadout, periodic waves of communicable diseases and bacterial maledies could still crop up from time to time, as some pathogens could still evade transporter safety systems or be brought aboard when the ship was docked.

In this case, a particularly nasty form of the Ribolian Flu had been brought aboard by one of the Valkyrie pilots in the fighter wing, and had begun to spread like wildfire with the 50 hours since they had left Starbase 113. Being a Guardian Class station, 113 was literally a floating City in space, and the strain of the Flu that the pilot had contracted was a mutated form of a low-potency endemic version of the disease that was nearly endemic at the HQ base.

The medical staff would have their work cut out for them. Though quarantine and testing was instituted within an hour of the pilot reporting to Sickbay with the disease, another 40 patiently had been admitted to the ward in the last 36 hours.

Joe was looking over the reports as he walked into sickbay, "We need a virology work up on this new outbreak, Some of these symptoms don't match the normal strains." looking to one of the nurses.

Eska walked into the room. She was tired, because she had been assigned the evening shift. She carried her special blend of lichen tea. "Sick not, look why." She said in her Novan speech style, before taking a sip of her tea.

Joseph paused as he looked at some of the night notes, "I've ordered up another round of labs, I'll get the duty charge nurse to get those done, I do need a case rundown on how this started."

After pulling the files, it soon became clear that first confirmed case aboard was one Ensign Jon Ackerman, one of the pilots of the large aerospace wing that always travelled aboard the Halo. The records showed that he had been released and quarantined in his quarter.

Eska set her tea down, feeling very dismissed. She sent a request to Ensign Ackerman about a visit.

Joseph looked the notes, "Who was the original patient I'd like too do a full follow up?"

"En'ign Ack'man." Eska said too quickly, and she slipped into her Novan speech.

RSS Feed