It Just Gets Better and Better

Posted on Tue May 6th, 2025 @ 8:31pm by Lieutenant Commander Evelyn Howel

1,023 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Episode 1.01 "Borderlands"
Location: Carina Station Ops Centre

ON

“Station Log, Stardate 73345.68

“Preparations are almost complete for the change of Command ceremony. It's a matter of the fine details. We have had some crew rotations on our garrison shops. Those have been handled, and the ships are standing ready.

“The USS Vaultera has been on survey, and should have reported back this morning. With the Raider activity in the area, I asked the Klingons to go hurry them along. I hope Commander Aegle doesn't mind the prodding.

“We await our new Captain with interest, for the new chapter in the station’s history.

“End Station Watch Log, Lieutenant Commander Howel, Officer of the Watch.”


[[ Carina Station, Operations Centre ]]


The circular room was deceptively calm. As the nerve centre of the entire sector, everyone in the room was doing their job. Howel stood in the middle, her golden yellow eyes constantly looking for something out of the orindary. The staff around her were good at their jobs. She just liked being an additional check on everything. Besides, it was her watch. Anything that happened was on her.

"Commander. The Vaultera, and Ho'Qn just entered the system."

A small knot in her shoulders eased at that news. She moved to the Traffic Control station, her lithe form making the movement seem almost fluid. A hand rested on the back of the officer's chair as she studied the screen. "That's a relief. Send them a course into our traffic pattern. Let the Vaultera know her dry-dock is free and clear. Give the Ho'Qn a docking port if they want."

Her body turned, already moving towards the communications station. "Anything?" If there had been trouble, Aegle would send an advance word ahead of a full report, Howel had worked with the man for three years, she knew him.

"Initial report is raiders, ma'am. The Ho'Qn saved their butts." The brief summary message came up on the screen. It was barefly a paragraph, but it was enough.

Howel winced at the news. Not at the ship's safety, but the first piece of news. Pirate raiders were now getting bold enough to strike at a Starfleet vessel. Not good. "Send word to Captain Drozh: Qapla. Send a message to all ships, sector wide." She paused for just a fraction of a second. The information wasn't CRITIC level, not yet. "FLASH header. Raiders active in region. Starfleet asset attacked. Immediately report any unknown sensor contact. Do not engatge."

Why did everything have to happen in one day? With the dispatch sent, Howel moved around to her department's Number Two. Lieutenant Eisenwahl was about as good a man as she could want manning her console when she wasn't there. Her hand clapped him on the shoulder as she came into a half crouch, bringing her head level with his. "ETA of the Grethe Zhor?"

"Five hours, thirty-seven minutes based on their last update." He grinned at her. "Plus a few seconds."

Howel just shook her head at him and sighed. "Anyone ever tell you, you talk like a Vulcan?"

"Yeah, as a matter of fact. You did. Yesterday. And the day before that. And the-"

The littany was cut short by the comms officer. "Ma'am? We got a signal coming in, but... I don't recognise the header, and the computer can't read the decryption."

Howel frowned and moved back over, looking at the screen. "SHADOW priority? What the bloody hell is that." That was when she saw the second half of the header. It didn't look like much, just a string of numbers. 90195. Howel stared at the numbers, trying to make some sense out of them. Nothing came to her.

"Do me a favour? Drop that message into the Strat Ops partition?"

The comms officer shrugged, and sent the unknown gibberish across. It wasn't as if she could do anything with it, anyway, and they all had better things to be getting on with.

Howel's eyes slid to Eisenwahl.

His fingers were already moving. "Got the message."

"My eyes only."

"Secured." The Lieutenant replied. His boss often played covert games. Though she didn't seem to know the rules to this one, and that had him curious. Yet, the boss would tell him if he needed to know.

Howel had not a single idea what the message could be, but if the auto-decrypt function in the computer didn't recognise it, then it was a puzzle. One she was going to enjoy cracking when time allowed.

She put the message out of her mind. Turning to the Ops officer, Howel got back to doing the job. "Where are we at on preparations for the ceremony?"

"Everything's in place, the Ambassadors get regular updates, and everyone with need-to-know is in the loop on the Grethe Zhor's arrival time."

"We get a name on the Romulan Ambassador?" Howel inquired, sifting through her memory of the dispatches. She couldn't remember seeing it.

"Nah." The Ops officer shook his head. "Nothing, nada, zip. They wanna play it cadgey. Still the old games."

Eisenwahl chuckled at that. "Bet the Klingon Ambassador makes the longest speech of them all."

Howel shook her head, and stretched, running her fingers through her mane of shaggy black hair. "Nah. That'll be the Romulan. They'll wanna go o about the bold new era we're in."

"Is that a wager, I hear?" The Strat Ops officer inquired. "Name the stakes."

"One bottle of Klingon blood wine." Howel crossed her arms as she regarded the man. "Vintage."

Eisenwahl considered it a moment. "You play dirty." He said. The whole room was watching now. Anything to take their minds off the monotony of a shift. "But your terms are agreeable."

Howel crossed the room and fist bumped the man to formalise the arrangement. She hated shaking hands. Always had.

With that distraction over, the work was still there, the station still needed monitoring, and the quadrant continued to move ever onward. Howel resumed her place at the centre console, returning to her pattern of scanning everything in the room.

OFF

 

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