Tip of the Spear (Part 1 of 2)

Posted on 25 Jan 2025 @ 5:23pm by Commander Morgan Tarin & Commander Allyndra illm Warraquim & Chief Petty Officer Lysander Octavio & Petty Officer 3rd Class Jeysa Zeror & Master Chief Petty Officer Toren Vral
Edited on on 25 Jan 2025 @ 5:28pm

2,701 words; about a 14 minute read

Mission: Episode 20 - Reconstruction
Location: USS Galileo-A - Deck 2, Captain's Ready Room
Timeline: MD 04, 0814 hrs

[ON]

A little over one hour into alpha shift had transpired and already Commander Morgan Tarin found herself back in her ready room pouring through administrative PADDs and juggling a combination of new personnel reports, department updates and fleet-wide sector communications. The paperwork never stopped but she was fortunate Galileo remained stationed in orbit of Regula I without any present tasking. Having to orchestrate this daily routine with the starship's mission objectives was challenging enough on the best of days, and nerve-wracking beyond belief during the worst times.

She wasn't alone without help, however, and while she sat behind her desk hunched over a pile of updated service records belonging to the ship's NCO staff, the yeoman, COB and XO were also in the room assisting with the much-coveted bookkeeping detail. Tarin leaned back in her chair following a few minutes of silence and reached up to push several stray brown locks of hair back behind her ears and stretch her arms. "If I keep this up any longer, I'm going to need corrective vision implants in two years," she subtly griped to the group of fellow red-collared command staff members.

"It's definitely a lot of paperwork," Jeysa replied. "But at least it's computerised. During training for the diplomatic corps they had a session where we had to do everything with pen and paper, in case we ever interacted with a species that didn't use computers. that was an experience for sure."

Allyndra only chuckled in her musical way. "Be glad you two that you are not updating medical records This is nothing. Describing how you had to go about treating a particularly nasty infection in a certain reproductive member along with description and results. That reminds me of one particular nasty case which I ended up calling the case of the Black and Decker Pecker."

Toren chuckled softly under his breath at the remark, his antennae twitching in amusement. His eyes skimming through the PADD in his hand with a practiced ease. He'd heard his share of colorful medical tales over the years, but this one certainly had the ring of a classic. Nothing quite like a bit of gallows humor to brighten up the endless mountain of reports that littered every Ready Room from here to the Delta Quadrant.

"Paperwork's a funny thing," his gravelly voice rolling across the desk, "Seems harmless enough, jus' a pile o' PADDs... but give it a few months an' a well-placed report's sharper than any dosalnar. You never know when you’ll need to dredge something up to keep a wayward chief or a smug lieutenant in check." His fingers tapped one of the many reports scattered across his lap.

He held up a PADD with a wry smile. "I keep everything. Logs, reports, gossip about who might have found a lucrative line in Romulan ale last time at port... not that we would ever condone such behavior, naturally." His tone was pointed but playful. "It all gets tucked away, nice and tidy, until the day it proves useful. Information’s like a good bottle of Andorian whiskey - doesn’t lose its edge with time."

"I wouldn't condone spying on the crew, master chief, but in your case, keeping a record of the NCOs' and junior enlisted's proclivities might come in handy if any of it becomes an issue we need to address down the line." It wasn't a secret that discipline and maturity could sometimes be...lax within the younger and lower ranks aboard vessels, and a healthy dose of discipline and structure was often necessary to mold future chiefs and officers.

Toren's antennae twitched ever so slightly. Brass collars, he thought to himself, always the first t' preach about discipline while often havin' the worst habits tucked away themselves. He'd seen it too many times - officers with impeccable service records hiding a knack for bending the rules when it suited them. The higher up they were, the more creative the 'proclivities' got. It was almost an art form.

He gave a faint nod, his gaze drifting over the stack of PADDs. "Aye, Commander. But one thing's certain - if it's written down, forgotten or not, it'll always come back." His voice was soft with gravelly wisdom. "Small details, little slip-ups... they've got a way of crawling outta the data banks jus' when someone thinks they're in the clear. Seen it too many times. Best to keep track o' things before they snowball."

A light guttural sound emanated from Tarin's throat, one of simple acknowledgement to the COB's ongoing diligence. Her attention shifted back to her PADD containing personnel reports which she promptly resumed reviewing. Not more than a minute passed before she spoke up again with the Andorian's previous comment resurfacing in her thoughts. "Here's one of ours who appears devoid of any noticeable slip-ups: Petty Officer Lysander Octavio. Security. E-6. Know much about him?" she asked the group.

"Ensign Turell speaks somewhat highly of him," Jeysa offered. "Though she says he seems a little 'self centered'

"I think a few encounters in sickbay, but nothing more than routine or hurts from times when we have been in battle," Allyndra added. She knew that she would have to start learning a lot more about the crew other than their visits to her former office.

Toren's antennae twitched as soon as the name Octavio came up. He leaned back in his chair, old instinct tightening in his chest. Lysander Octavio... all flash, no powder, he thought, recalling the rumors he'd heard. Betazed had been a bloodbath during the war, and while Toren had slogged through it, right in the thick of the fighting, the only thing he'd ever heard about Octavio was how he basked in glory afterward - usually with a glass of his father's finest vintage in hand. The man had come directly from the Admiralty's cushiest corridors to the Galileo, more used to hosting dinners than defending the line. He'd never seen Octavio in the mud or the blood, and frankly, he doubted anyone had. Yet here he was, eligible to become chief.

His fingers tapped absently on the PADD in his hand as his thoughts churned. Still, protocol was protocol. Octavio was now his responsibility, and while he wasn't Toren's cup of raktajino, being a chief brought its own challenges. Maybe it'd toughen the lad up, give him some real grit to match that shiny service record. Seen a few like him before - showboats who think they're too good for the dirty work. But, if the brass wants to see if he's made of more than soft linens and accolades, well... I'll make sure we find out soon enough.

"Aye, I've crossed his name," Toren muttered, his voice neutral, masking the weight of his thoughts. "On paper, looks clean enough." His fingers tapped the PADD thoughtfully. "But it's your call, Commander. You'll know soon enough if he's got the mettle when things get... complicated. If you ask me, best to keep an eye on him. Sometimes, all that polish hides a few cracks underneath."

"That's...not the strongest endorsement, COB." Tarin picked up a small outward semblance of disfavor in the subtleties of the master chief's body language and verbal inflection. She leaned back in her chair then crossed her long legs beneath the desk while dropping her hands into her waist. "Out with it. It's just us here and you can be candid. I don't like surprises."

Toren's antennae twitched again, and he set the PADD down and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. "Candid, eh?" His eyes flicked toward Tarin, their usual spark tempered by a bit of hard-earned wariness. "Alright, Commander. I've got a sense about him. Lysander Octavio's got the kind of background that makes a man look good on paper - hero at Betazed, father's vineyards, fancy dinners with brass - cushy post in the Admiralty, and I’d bet a good bit o' latinum he’s spent more time pouring wine for admirals than getting his hands dirty." His tone was measured, each word landing with the weight of someone who's seen far too many like Octavio rise and fall. "We were both there f' the liberation o' Betazed. But I never saw him in the dirt, never heard his name in the same breath as those who bled for that planet. For all I know, he's just as good at entertainin' admirals as his old man."

Toren paused, his gaze drifting back to the stack of personnel reports. "That said, it's your decision. Maybe wearin' a chief's rank'll give him the backbone to match the shine on his boots. But I'd keep a close watch. The higher up they come from, the harder they fall when things get rough. And, well... I don't think he's been tested like that. Not yet."

Galileo's captain attentively concentrated on the blue-skinned man's personal anecdotes and interpretations of Octavio's character. She was all-ears when talk of his role during the war surfaced and didn't particularly enjoy hearing - or not hearing - of his participation in the effort. "He wouldn't be the first spoiled officer or NCO I've come across during my career," Tarin admitted. "Do you think he's soft? Unable to lead the men and women under his command? Will they respect him?"

Toren didn't answer right away. His gaze settled back on the PADD, thoughts drifting back to Betazed and the faces of those who'd fought alongside him. It wasn't that he didn't think Octavio could lead - it was a question of whether he'd ever had to, or if he understood what it cost. With a measured exhale, he looked back up at Tarin.

"Soft? Maybe," he replied, his tone gravelly as usual. "Men and women under his command - they'll respect him if he earns it, same as any chief. But that respect doesn't come from rubbin' elbows with the right people. It's somethin' earned by gettin' down in the dirt with them, knowing when to listen and when to lead." He paused, considering his next words carefully. "If he shows he's got the spine for it, they'll follow. If not... well, respect can turn pretty quickly."

The senior commander rubbed her thin bottom lip with her thumb while she contemplated the conundrum facing the group for a long, silent moment. "A bad chief in any department can have disastrous consequences," she prefaced before slightly tilting her head to concede a private point. "But sometimes a person's true abilities aren't shown until they're hand's forced." Tarin looked over to the winged Akkadian. "XO, what do you think?"

"I agree captain. A bad person can have very bad effect, but sometimes we have to take a chance. You are taking a chance with me. Thus, I would say, let's see if as mentioned the person will rise to the occasion.," Allyndra supplied.

The first officer's approval was noted and helped reinforce Tarin's leanings. Games of chance were shunned by her but this was different - a calculated decision hopefully made using all available data. A risk assessment. Her eyes drifted to the tall, Trill yeoman. "And you, Zeror? You're junior-most here but I welcome your opinion. One day you'll have to make similar decisions of your own."

Jeysa had listened quite intently to the discussion between the officers, the arguments for and against the promotion were interesting. "After hearing both sides, I'd say give him a taste of command, he will either rise to the occasion as you say Commander Warrquim or fall by the wayside either way we will know the true measure of the man."

Tarin steeled her eyes toward the small group's members. "These aren't the ringing endorsements I wanted to hear. If concerns like these were raised about an NCO aboard any other ship I've served on in the past, we wouldn't be having this conversation anymore. I understand, however, that Galileo's...different in its mission and our resources are much more limited. I think it's time to talk to the man himself to do a final appraisal." She gestured a subtle nod to Warraquim. "Number One, summon him for a quick chat."

"Yes, captain." Allyndra pressed her comm badge. "Petty Officer Octavio report immediately to the captain's ready room."

Several minutes passed as Lysander made his way up to the office. Yes, he could have arrived more quickly, but he had learned how crucial it was to look his best when encountering the senior officers. A one minute stop by a mirror was all he needed to confirm he was the very definition of dashing.

He strode up to the Captain's Ready Room door, stood firmly to attention and tapped the chime.

"Enter." Tarin's curt and dry reply initiated an open swish of the office's small door which now presented the interior of the chamber and its already-present red-collared cadre.

Lysander walked smartly into the room, briefly glancing at those present. The Captain, yes. The new XO, indeed. That tubby blue CoB, right. Lots of PADDs piled up on the table. A trill seemed to be slightly obscured behind it all. What a party.

He took a measured breath, tasting the emotions of the room. Skepticism, consideration... What, indeed, was going to happen?

He fixed the group with his most winning smile, then said most charmingly, "Officer Octavio reporting."

Tarin wasn't particularly amused at the man's posture and...was he smiling? "Stand at attention when presenting yourself, petty officer," she ordered, staring unblinkingly into his black Betazoid eyes before then asking, "Can you guess why you're here?"

Lysander's empathic senses were telling him that Tarin seemed... unamused. He dialled back the smile and snapped to. He always felt his 'attention' was impeccable - even the Andorian wouldn't find fault it in.

As to the question... well he had a streak of paranoia that somehow those present had somehow learned of what he and the one legged doctor had been discussing immediately prior. But with the whole command dream team here that seemed silly. It had to be something else... hmm...

"As a guess, sir," he kept his eyes locked forward as his stance demanded, but attempted to look somewhat heroic nonetheless, "perhaps to consult me on a security matter, sir."

The captain raised her eyebrows with curiosity. For some strange reason she hadn't been expecting that specific response. "No... Why? Have you violated any security protocols recently we should know about?"

Lysander blinked. A very strange but also suspiciously specific inquiry from the Captain. "I... No, sir. I more assumed that my position as a security officer might qualify me to bring a... fresh perspective to any security or tactical matter that may be being discussed, sir. Hence you summoning me here. As a guess, sir."

"I see." A silence overcame the room while Tarin reviewed the man's immaculate appearance. He certainly wore the uniform well. From the outside looking in. "Fortunately we don't have any pressing matters within your department. Well, maybe one," she corrected herself. "Security's currently staffed by four NCOs and a junior officer with no department head, DSEC or senior NCO to oversee its operations. What would you recommend in this scenario?"

Lysander remained very still. Was this a trick question? Or... genuine? The after effects of his hallucinogenic episode earlier in the day were still echoing around his head. "Well, sir, I would recommend ameliorating some aspect of that issue. As I understand no department head was forthcoming on the Yuron, so... perhaps an existing member of the team could, in principle, step up to assist in the 'overseeing operations' endeavour. As it were."

To Be Continued...

[OFF]

--

CMDR Morgan Tarin
Commanding Officer
USS Galileo-A

CMDR Allyndra illm Warraquim
First Officer
USS Galileo-A

PO1 Lysander Octavio
Security Officer
USS Galileo-A
[PNPC Vala]

PO3 Jeysa Zeror
Yeoman
USS Galileo-A
[PNPC Mimi]

MCPO Toren Vral
Chief of the Boat
USS Galileo-A
[PNPC Vala]

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