—- Starbase 86, Conference Room 6 —-

Commander Ashley Attwell felt all eyes on her as she rose and went to the replicator to order a English Breakfast tea. Still she needed something to drink and had been sitting down for either hours already as the senior staff of the USS Falcon and the command crew of Selene Division poured over what had gone wrong and what they could do better next time.

The unspoken thing was that the USS Falcon had just been outnumbered and outgunned. While perhaps minute improvements could be made, the fact was that one Excelsior II-class ship against the kind of fire power that the pirates had stolen from the Klingons was not going to end much differently. If anything the fact that the Falcon had been able to be towed back to Starbase 86 meant that they’d done alright. The fact of the matter was, at least in Attwell’s mind, that nobody on the Falcon had died, and while it had taken the arrival of a Starfleet task group including the USS Majestic to arrive in time to save them and scare off the pirates, that lack of casualties was something to be proud of. Still whenever there was a disaster like this one, even if everyone had done their jobs perfectly, there was an inquest.

As she made her way to her chair at the large table they were all sat around Attwell heard the low measured voice of Captain Radak ask, “And how long until the Falcon is able to get underway?”

Though not in charge of the repairs that were being done by the base’s teach of technicians Chief Engineer Murf had the answer, “We can go in two days. My team will be fixing things as we fly, but unless we’re going to get our cute little butts kicked again we should be okay.”

Captain Radak opened his mouth like he wanted to tell the engineering officer to be more professional but closed it, thinking better of it. While an older Vulcan was more experienced than most, it was accepted that despite looking like she was in her early thirties, Murf was far more experienced than most. Telling her to be less juvenile seemed pointless when she was older than the Federation.

“Do you have something for us?” Captain Paul Aike the commanding officer of the USS Falcon asked, leaning forward to show interest.

“We have been requested to show the flag, as it where,” Radak said, “While I will remain on Starbase 86, the Falcon will fly to Starbase 260. Be seen, be visible. If the ship is repaired by the time you arrive catch some pirates.”

“Are the Breen acting up?” Commander Attwell asked, sipping on her tea.

“The Breen have been quiet,” Lieutenant Commander Victoria Hume said, glancing up at the star map on the wall. Starbase 260 was close to their space, so the question had been natural. She nodded, “But with everything going on the last thing Starfleet wants to do is worry about them, and giving their past alliance with the Founders of the Dominion we want to make sure they don’t get ideas that we’re short staffed.”

Attwell and her commanding officer Captain Aike had not worked together long enough to develop a kind of wordless connection, where they knew each other well enough to know just what the other was thinking, so she kept her opinion to herself with no one to share it with. She had a feeling though that he was not a fan of performative appearances, showing up and looking tough was not nearly as satisfying to him as actually getting to be tough. Perhaps though the recent kicking that the Falcon had taken had humbled him a little, and made him appreciate the missions where they did not lose power and all most drift into a planet’s gravity well.

“Alright, I’ll read the full mission specs. Murf get our ship ready to fly,” Aike said standing, having decided that he’d had enough of sitting in the room. Starfleet’s command team had already left an hour ago, and Selene Division head Radak did not seem inclined to stop him.

—- USS Falcon, First Officer’s Office —-

Gazing out the large window that filled the majority of the one wall in the office Commander Ashley Attwell watched as a worker bee buzzed by on its way to perform some welding on the Falcon’s nacelle. Given that life support was one of the first things that had been restored on the ship, the crew had not been transferred off to Starbase 86.

Despite the Falcon having been kicked around a bit, it was still a good ship and a comfortable posting. Certainly Attwell knew that nobody was going to be asking for transfers off the ship, due to lack of excitement, anytime soon. If anything their position as the tip of the spear for Selene Division might mean that some people wanted off to find a less active posting.

Picking up a PADD she read Murf’s latest on the repairs that the ship was undergoing. For the first few days they were going to have to use credits to replicate materials, to ensure that ship had what it needed. It was falling to Attwell to distribute credits through the crew. This would give the engineering team time to get the ship’s energy systems to full functionality while at full warp. The ship’s torpedo launchers would also not be online by the time they left, but given that they were going to be well within Federation space Attwell did not anticipate that being a problem.

Her door buzzed, indicating a visitor, and she said a perfunctory “Come.”

Doctor Askr Njord entered with his usual grin firmly in place. He was a good doctor, terrible fiancé, but good doctor. The medical department had more than done their part in ensuring that the Falcon had not lost anyone in their last space battle.

“You wanted to see me?” Njord asked. This was a tactic of his, make the other person feel that they had been the one that called him so they didn’t get annoyed with him arriving to ask for something. To new people who were not familiar with Njord it probably worked, to Attwell who knew what he was doing it just made her roll her eyes.

“I did not, you got yourself assigned here against my wishes,” she said. Then gestured to the empty seat across the desk from her.

“Well Captain Aike is persuasive,” Njord said sitting down.

“What can I do for you?” Attwell said, wanting to cut out the banter. It was not that she did not enjoy banter, it was that she did not enjoy Njord. At least not since he’d cheated on her and they’d broken up.

“You need to give me twice the replicator credits,” the Chief Medical Officer said.

“I just got that memo and I haven’t even assigned credits,” Attwell pointed out.

“Whatever you’re going to give medical we need twice as many,” Njord said.

“You’re preemptively asking me to double your allotment?” Attwell asked, knowing that this was exactly what he was doing.

“Yes,” Njord said nodding.

“Lieutenant I’ll give you what’s appropriate. Now go and get the medical bay working. And pick a damn Assistant Chief Medical Officer so I know who’s replacing you when I murder you.”

“That’s a threat of violence against a junior officer. A completely innocent junior officer,” Njord said.

“Not if it’s an accidental transporter malfunction,” Attwell said, “in your sleep.”

Doctor Njord rose to his feet, “Good talking to you Commander.”