Surefoot 40: Baptism of Fire

USS Ajax, Deck 1 Mid -- Transporter Room 1:

Lt Sasha Hrelle stepped off the pad and strode up to the diminutive Roylan, straightening up as if to further accentuate her height advantage over him. "Permission to come aboard, Captain?"

Captain Weynik craned his neck back in an exaggerated fashion until his head fins touched his shoulder blades, black eyestalks focusing critically on the young human female with the strawberry-blonde hair. "Lieutenant... when we last met, I believe I ordered you to stop getting taller."

She remained deadpan. "I did, Sir. I think my father is using a subspace compression field to secretly shrink you."

He grunted. "I... wish I could say he wouldn't do something like that to me." Then he smiled and held out his hand. "Welcome aboard the Ajax, Second Officer Hrelle."

She accepted it gratefully. "Thank you, Sir. I hope I can meet your high expectations of my abilities-"

He playfully knocked her hand away and shook a reproving finger at her instead. "Are you gonna start that again? We've had this conversation twice now; I hope you haven't spent your time since I sent you your orders wallowing in self-doubt?"

She shook her head, collecting her bag from the adjacent pad that had beamed over with her from the Dragonheart. "To begin with, yes, Captain. But then I thought of all those Second Officers I've served under in the Fleet since I got here, and I figured, 'Well, if these idiots can do it...'"

He chuckled. "Come on, Sash, let's get your gear stowed, give you a tour and introduce you to our new crew. We have a bit of work ahead of us to catch up with the specs Captain Sisko distributed to the newer Defiant-class ships." As they walked out into the narrow corridors, he noted, "A giant like you might find it cramped here at first, but you'll get used to it. Have you spoken to your father lately?"

"Yes, Sir, he sends his best, as does Kami and Misha. Also, as you are my commanding officer I am obliged to warn you that Dad wanted me to ensure you secretly receive notifications on a daily basis that You're The Squab."

"Oh, did he now? I'm gonna die from lack of surprise over that. And do you intend to follow Papa Cat's wishes?"

"Of course, Sir -- unless of course you give up some dirt on him from your Academy days together. The more embarrassing, the better."

Weynik laughed. He chose his Second Officer well.

*

His Ready Room, like every other place on the Ajax, was compact, with no space wasted. Which was fine by him; what this Defiant-class vessel lacked in amplitude in comparison with his old vessel the Starsong, it more than made up for with sheer power and strength, something the Fleet will need in general -- and his old buddy Captain Hrelle's ship will need in particular, as one of the Ajax's primary missions was to provide military support for Surefoot while the ambulance vessel performed its duties during battle.

But now, the cramped feeling was exacerbated by his (very) temporary First Officer Lieutenant Commander Kit Kohanim, assigned to help familiarise Weynik and the crew with the new vessel. The Zakdorn's physical presence in itself wasn't imposing: though large like most of the Galaxy's humanoids (at least, by Roylan standards), his oatmeal-coloured skin and hair, and round head flanked with three pouches of thick, fibrous tissue on each cheek, was modest and unassuming.

But his condescending, self-assured attitude, typical of his race, made up for it. Still, in the short time Weynik had known him, he proved himself valuable, and once he informed everyone of his unsurpassed experience and expertise with this design of ship, he proved to be professional and courteous to all of their crew.

At least, until he met Sasha, and then that patronising attitude of his went to Eleven, reminding Weynik of those times when he had to lecture his own daughter about interrupting him during important business. But at least Weynik had the excuse of Naida being an infant, not a young adult like Sasha.

And Weynik hoped that Sasha was too busy to notice, given her success so far in the role. As they had toured the ship and met most of the other officers and crew, Weynik saw now how much she had grown professionally since her graduation.

She had built up the considerable expertise she had collected from her years with her father, of course, but since her graduation and the advanced training she'd received on Vulcan in the previous year, she had spent her time rotated among various different vessels in the Thirteenth Fleet, observing different systems, functions, command styles -- and, as he fully expected from her, taking the best from each and making it her own. Yes, he definitely made the right choice with her.

Not that Kohanim seemed to appreciate this, to judge from the simpering, patronising reactions he gave to every contribution Sasha made, the latest one no different. "No, no, no, Lieutenant. If you had bothered to read the specifications more carefully, you'll find that a Defiant-class vessel's targeting sensors are among the most advanced in Starfleet, on a level with a Nebula- or Galaxy-class."

Sasha's face tightened -- and Weynik's earlier hopes of her remaining ignorant of Kohanim's attitude were dashed on the proverbial rocks. "I did read the specs, Lieutenant Commander, I can assure you."

"And yet you still believe that a junior officer fresh out of the Academy can find improvements to an array designed and approved by teams of far more experienced and qualified engineers?" The Zakdorn chuckled at the very idea.

Sasha remained patient. "Not improvements, Sir, refinements, refinements based on recent battle data gathered by Starfleet vessels against the newer Klingon vessels with their improved cloaks." She held up her PADD. "And I don't claim to have come up with these; I'm not that bright. They're from the Dragonheart: new algorithms tailored to focus the Ajax's sensors on specific tetryon and chroniton particle wavelengths, with a projected 35% improvement in detection accuracy during close-quarter battle than the current configuration -- and without any hardware upgrades required."

Kohanim accepted the PADD with some visible reluctance, almost sighing as he perused the contents. "And who is this... Lieutenant Jonas Ostrow? I've not heard of him."

"The Dragonheart's Second Engineer, although he worked alongside their Chief Tactical Officer in developing and testing these-"

"A friend of yours?" he ventured.

Sasha paused. "Yes, as a matter of fact."

The Zakdorn smirked. "A boyfriend?"

Sasha's face tightened. "No, Lieutenant Commander, not a boyfriend. He happens to be one of the most gifted Engineering minds of my class." Now she looked at Weynik. "If you recall, Sir, he was instrumental in helping detect those cloaked Cardassian raiders you and my father went up against when you still commanded the Starsong."

Weynik nodded. "I remember, Lieutenant. And I remember working with Mr Ostrow on other occasions. Mr Kohanim, we'll implement the new algorithms as a battle configuration, effective immediately."

Now his First Officer looked to him, still smiling, obviously trying to make light of the situation. "Captain, before we risk that, perhaps we should wait and maybe get this data checked over by a grown-up first?"

Sasha leaned back in her chair and folded her arms, but otherwise remained silent; Weynik appreciated her control, an improvement over when a previous First Officer of his crossed proverbial swords with the young human... and lost. "Lieutenant, take the Bridge and signal Admiral Tattok on the Triton that we're on schedule to rendezvous with the Surefoot, following the recommended modifications. Dismissed."

"Aye, Sir." She rose and departed, without sparing a second glance at Kohanim.

Once the door slid shut, Weynik focused on his First Officer. "Explain yourself."

The Zakdorn looked confused -- then he chuckled. "Oh, come on, Captain, I was just having a little fun with the Squab."

"I know a great deal about Squabs, Mr Kohanim. And I can assure you, she is not one. She's been through more in her young lifetime than most senior officers will ever see in their entire careers. So perhaps you can cut her a little slack?"

Kohanim's dimpled chin rose as he seemed to regard his new Captain. "Permission to speak freely, Sir?"

"Always," he assured him, "Assuming you're ready to take as good as you give."

Kohanim leaned forward, folding his hands on Weynik's desk. "Captain, I understand you've known Lieutenant Hrelle's father for decades. In fact, he's your best friend, yes?"

One of my only friends, Weynik told himself, a fat, furry friend I can always rely upon, settling for the curt reply, "Yes."

Kohanim nodded. "It's understandable that you'd want to please him by giving his daughter a cushy job. And if we weren't in a state of war, commanding a state-of-the-art warship, I might not be as critical of your decision. But we are in a state of war, in a state-of-the-art warship. Now, I admit I don't know that girl, and I'm sure she has some potential, but we shouldn't be making such indulgences here and at this time."

Weynik stared back for a moment, before finally responding. "She remains the youngest recipient of the Starfleet Medal of Commendation for Exceptional Valour -- at age eleven, for saving her teacher and her class during an attack on her space station... and she's earned more medals since. She has logged over 800 hours in command of both an Oberth- and a Sabre-class starship, as well as various shuttlecraft. She's commanded Away Team missions. She's participated in operations for Starfleet Intelligence. She's been in hand-to-hand combat.

She's saved lives. She's killed. She's died.

And she has a clan of Caitians for family. Very loyal, very ferocious Caitians.

You are absolutely right, Mr Kohanim.

You don't know that girl."

*

As she entered the Bridge for the first time and approached the Captain's chair, Sasha put aside her annoyance at Kohanim's attitude -- he wasn't the first schmuck she's had to deal with, she could handle him easily enough -- as she had a terrible thought: what if Weynik had had the chair adjusted for his size, and she tried sitting in it now and ending up breaking it like Goldilocks and the Baby Bear's chair? But then she saw it was of normal configuration, though the ergonomics allowed it to adjust to whomever sat in it.

So she did, keying in her command codes to be recognised, before looking over at the young Vulcan male at the Ops station. "Excuse me, Ensign... Shanek, is it?"

He looked up at her with bright hazel eyes. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Signal Admiral Tattok on the Triton, inform him we're on schedule to rendezvous with the Surefoot, following the recommended modifications. Are there any updates on the Sherman front?"

"The Puget Sound and the Trial have reported Klingon movement in the system's Oort Belt, but otherwise no indications of an imminent attack."

"Thank you." After a moment she added, "Mr Shanek, pardon me for asking, but your accent is familiar. Are you from the Matallak Province on Vulcan? Near the Fire Plains?"

Something akin to Vulcan surprise furrowed the Ops officer's brow. "I am, Lieutenant. I do not encounter many non-Vulcans who would recognise my accent."

"I had the opportunity to spend some time there last year with a friend, where I had the privilege of witnessing a Sandfire Storm. I look forward to returning someday; your part of Vulcan possesses a stark beauty that you have to see with your own eyes to properly appreciate."

Shanek regarded her, before finally nodding. "Thank you for saying so, Ma'am. I... will not disagree with your assessment."

Sasha smiled and looked to her opposite side. "Ensign Bump, what's our tactical status?"

The young human, who reminded her of -- well, herself, a few years ago -- glanced down at his board, his pale skin reddening and his voice almost cracking with anxiety at the attention suddenly on him. "Uh, the primary scanners are offline for the modifications, Ma'am, we're relying on passive sensors only. Port Forward Torpedoes are also offline while the track to the Magazine Bay is under repair, but phasers and all other torpedoes are ready and waiting."

She nodded. "We're still well-armed, but that won't mean a thing if we're half-blind. Tie your tactical sensor array through the deflector dish."

He blinked. "Uh, Ma'am, you can't do that- the dish is designed to deflect space debris while a starship is in flight."

"Really?" she asked dryly. "I never knew that."

From behind her, Shanek spoke up. "Ensign, the Lieutenant is well aware of the purpose of a deflector dish... and its versatility under certain conditions for projecting various types of energy, including sensor beams. It is a sound contingency."

"Thank you, Mr Shanek. Please assist Mr Bump with the task."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Now she faced forward, towards the Tellarite ensign at the Helm. "Mr... Grel, is it?"

The ensign turned in his seat, his porcine snout screwing up almost as much as his beady black eyes. "Yes, Lieutenant. I see the stories of your ugliness don't do you justice."

Sasha smirked. "How would you know? Your eyes were ruined long ago from the constant stink of your own pelt." She smiled, as did he, over the customary Tellarite banter, before she continued, "What's our ETA to the Surefoot at Warp Six from this location?"

"1.7 hours, Ma'am."

"When we're ready to go, be ready to lay in a course. Can you remember that, or shall we replace you with something more useful, like a tribble?"

Grel cackled. "I'll remember, Ma'am."

She returned to her panels, catching up with the Bridge logs as per procedure, glad to have made some rapport with some of the crew -- though she still couldn't believe people were addressing her as 'Ma'am'. Always get to know those under your command, her father advised. You owe it to the people who may kill, or die, on your orders.

Her orders. Her command. Wow. She was actually doing this. And if trouble raised its ugly head, she couldn't just hand it over to a real officer anymore. She was one of those real officers now. Allegedly.

Mother's Cubs... what was she doing here, giving orders? She'd get them all blown up-

"Ahem."

She snapped out of her thoughts with a jolt. "WHAT? I mean-"

The young pale-skinned human male in the gold-topped uniform stood at the side of the Captain's chair, smirking. "Everything okay, Lieutenant?"

She blinked. "Who are you?"

"Madison, Lieutenant Jim Madison, Engineering Assistant."

She swallowed; he was huge: broad-framed, broad-shouldered, broad-jawed, all muscles and bright blue eyes and short black hair, he looked like he was raised on a mountaintop wrestling nine-headed Hydras or performing other labours for the Gods. Then she recovered. "Yes, Mr Madison, I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

He nodded down. "Because it looks like you're about to rip the chair in half, and I was curious as to what it had done to tick you off."

Sasha frowned, glanced down as well and saw her hands gripping the arms of the chair so tightly her fingers had turned scarlet. She immediately released her hold, as if she had been doing it intentionally all along, and looked up again. "It knows what it did."

He made a sound of mock gravity. "Every chair onboard will soon learn to fear you."

She grinned. "You think I'm tough on chairs, you should see what I do to beds." I did not just say that out loud, I did not just say that out loud... "So... what brings you up here, Mr Madison?"

To his credit, and her gratitude, he never remarked on her momentary bout of Foot-In-Mouth Disease, as he handed her a PADD. "Well, firstly I need a senior bridge officer to sign this off for Chief Mayrik, or she'll have me for dinner. She's the Devil in Engineering Gold."

She had a quick read through the contents -- standard warp core safety authorisation, nothing too taxing -- and pressed her thumb on the appropriate panel, letting the device take a microscopic sample from her skin as her genetic signature. She handed back the PADD. "I can't believe a big strapping boy like you is scared of a little slip of a girl like the Chief."

He shrugged. "I'm a lover, not a fighter."

"Careful, or someone may ask you to prove it." Real smooth talk, Lady Casanova. "Uh, is there anything else, Mr Madison?"

"Well, I also wanted to apologise for missing you when you visited Engineering earlier with Captain Weynik. I've spent most of the morning crawling through Jefferies Tubes on Deck 5."

She smiled. "How do you manage to fit into the Tubes here? I can barely get my fat toches through the doorways."

"Toches?"

"Never mind, Mr Madison."

"Please, 'Mr Madison' is my father's name. Call me Mrs Madison."

Sasha laughed -- until she snorted. Seven Hells, Sash, how do you ever manage to get laid? She recovered as best she could. "Was there anything else, Mrs Madison?"

"Yes: you can join me for dinner tonight."

That caught her off-guard. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

He grinned. "Why not?"

Damn, boy, you've got a smile that could melt the pants off of me... "Because there's a question of rank."

Madison raised his eyebrows, and made a show of sniffing near one of his armpits. "I shower once a month, whether I need it or not."

"I mean-"

"I know what you mean. What's the problem? We're both officers."

"But we only just met!"

He shrugged unapologetically. "It's dinner, not a proposal. Besides, now that I've seen you in person, I know I'll have to compete with all your other suitors." He indicated behind him. "I'll bet Shanek's asked you two or three times already."

The young Vulcan made a show of never looking up from his station. "I have not."

Madison drew in, pretending to lower his voice to offer, "I hope you let my roommate down easily, he's so emotionally fragile."

"I must give you fair warning, Lieutenant Hrelle," Shanek announced, "This is his default personality setting."

Suddenly the Red Alert klaxon sounded, and seconds later, the ship rocked. Sasha recognised what had happened. "Shields up! Arm all available weapons! Mr Grel, Evasive Pattern Alpha Three, Full Impulse!"

Then she jumped to her feet as Weynik and Kohanim raced onto the Bridge, the Captain snapping, "Status!"

It took a second for Sasha to realise he was talking to her as she stepped aside, moving to the station next to Ensign Bump and assessing the readings. "Klingon Bird of Prey! Moderate damage to ablative armour on dorsal port side!"

Weynik took his chair. "Helm, take us about, face them down! Tactical, lock phasers on them!"

Sasha held onto the side of the station as the Ajax banked sharply to starboard, and the Bird of Prey appeared on the viewscreen, already moving back in, green disruptor energy washing over the Starfleet vessel, making it shake.

"Fire!" Weynik ordered.

Bump's hands moved over the controls, and Sasha looked up in time to see the phaser pulse cannons in action: a volley of bolts of explosive energy, ripping across space in rapid, unrelenting succession, striking the Bird of Prey, which kept coming at them, until finally it ripped apart into a blossom of flame and debris.

Sasha saw the young man punch the air, before noticing her noticing him, and dropped it. Sasha smiled; she almost did the same herself. But then she returned to her duties, moving to an auxiliary station to assist in scanning the area for more Klingon ships, leaving Kohanim to make the major announcements. "Bird of Prey destroyed, no survivors detected. Lieutenant Hrelle, standard procedure now is for you to scan for other-"