Pitamakan ~ Scars (#StarTrek)

Captain Taryn Morgan
Previously ~ Crew

"Commander, are you aware that seven Ensigns and three Lieutenants are going out tonight?"

Noguerra looked up from their chess game to see a bemused smile on the face of her Captain.

"I assume you mean they're going to the holodeck."  She lowered her eyes back to the board, calculating her next move.

"You assume correctly," Captain Morgan beamed, refreshing her tea cup.  "They are going to a bar with a particularly wild reputation, and get this...the holodeck program belongs to Vorin."

For the first time since Noguerra had come aboard, Morgan saw a real flash of emotion.  The Commander appeared surprised, incredulously, even slightly flabbergasted.

"Vorin?  Our...Vulcan helmsman has a holodeck program of a wild bar?"

Pitamakan ~ Crew (#StarTrek)

Previously ~ Unraveling

Much to Ensign Myesha Keller's delight, there were a lot of good-looking people on this ship.  The man who caught her eye the most, of course, was that slender, olive-skinned Vulcan helmsman sitting by himself near a window in the mess hall.  His lips were so full, she couldn't help but wonder if they were as soft as they looked.

Ensign Vorin
He sat with his back stiff and straight, primly wielding a knife and fork to cut his steamed vegetables.

Keller's lips broke into a broad grin; his extreme Vulcanness acted as a sort of repellent to other crew members, despite his perfectly squared shoulders and shimmering, silky, pitch black hair.

The mess hall was surprisingly spacious, with brand new blue carpets and bluish gray walls.  Outside the large rectangular windows, the stars whizzed by.  There was a fresh buffet laid out for the crew, but Keller noticed there was a small line at each of the three replicators.

Not particularly hungry just now, but unwilling to wait, she picked up a small bowl of Zahirian green noodles in lemon and ginger broth from the buffet and went to sit with the Vulcan.


Pitamakan ~ Unraveling (#StarTrek)

Previously ~ Passing

They had barely been traveling for half a day before the boredom began to set in.  Various members of the bridge crew began to checking private messages and the news from their respective home planets, bases, and colonies.  Some of them were even doing some from their consoles while on duty.  Around 1800, Captain Taryn Morgan retreated to her quarters for an early dinner, only to send Commander Noguerra an invite the moment she sat down.

Noguerra arrived, stiff-backed and still in uniform, bringing a bottle of Begosian 2309.

Captain Taryn Morgan
Morgan was astounded.  "I didn't even think there were any of those still left."

"I've got a friend who knows a guy," Noguerra replied simply.  Her tone was as neutral as a Vulcan's.

Morgan nodded, heading to her replicator.  "Trithara casserole, spicy, with a side of steamed volik, two plates and two empty wine glasses," she ordered.

There was the faintest flicker in Noguerra's brown eye.  "Steamed volik--"

Morgan smiled, busted.  She brought over the food while Noguerra opened the Begosian.  "I may have done some research," the Captain admitted.  "Apparently steamed volik grows on you after a while.  It must have grown on you a lot, considering you've ordered it on every ship you've served on."

Noguerra seemed to stiffen slightly at the smell of the volik.  They were a long, greenish-blue bean that tasted like green beans from Earth spritzed in lemon juice.  The steam rose from them and evaporated delicately.

"When I was cadet, my squad and I were accidentally stranded on Stharis Prime for two weeks. I practically lived off volik," Noguerra murmured.  "The stuff saved my life."

Morgan nodded.  "Comfort food."

Cmdr. Marisol Noguerra
Noguerra raised her head, blue eye flashing.  "Exactly."

"You know, Stharis is not the worst place to be stranded.  I heard it's mostly made up of pristine, beautiful beaches."

"True, but the food is awful," Noguerra bluntly replied.

"Oh, yes," Morgan snickered.  "All that fresh fish and crab, lobster and calamari...."

"I'm allergic to seafood."

"Oh," Morgan blinked awkwardly.  "In that case two weeks on Stharis would be a waste.  So, how do you find our crew?"

"Young, but qualified," came the prompt response.  "At least on paper.  I sense a lack of confidence throughout the ship."

"Sounds like a battle drill is in order," Morgan replied simply.

"Agreed," Noguerra nodded stiffly.  "I'll arrange a surprise one for 1100 hours tomorrow."

Morgan tried not to chuckle.  This should be interesting.


Pitamakan ~ Passing (#StarTrek)

Previously ~ The Doctor's In

Although his mother was Vulcan and his father Romulan, Vorin always presented himself as Vulcan.  He preferred acquaintances to friends, colleagues to work buddies, and one-night stands to relationships.  The easiest way to accomplish this was to simply pose as a completely detached, unemotional Vulcan.  No one ever hurried to befriend a Vulcan.

Ensign Vorin
Take for example the young, dark-skinned Lieutenant to his right.  After the Commander introduced them, Lt. Gayen refused to so much as make eye contact afterward.  Vorin wondered if he was making Gayen nervous, because he sense her heart pounding and noticed a slight trembling when she typed onto her console.

But then he remembered that Vulcans either bored or irritated people.  They never made others nervous.

And just like that, Vorin's curiosity was piqued.

Vorin was on this ship for the same reason he'd joined Starfleet: to get as far away from his family as possible...if you could even call them that.  His mother had been an only child and she'd lost her parents during a Borg attack.  She herself died during the war with the Dominion.

And since Vorin was the product of an illicit affair with a high-ranking senator, there was no one on Romulus willing to acknowledge that he even existed.

All he had left were his extended kin on Vulcan, and there were no fans of his.  They were precisely the reason he'd requested an assignment aboard this nothing-class vessel headed for the middle of nowhere.

So what was Gayen's story, then?  What could she be running from?


Lt. Shorbari Gayen
Lt. Shorbari Gayen re-entered the navigational algorithm and then reminded herself to breathe.  She'd had to redo her work all day, and at the rate things were going, she feared she was going to pass out while getting the entire ship lost.

Romulan jasmine tea.  Barsymian croquet at 1200.  Purple leaf salad at the Winterfield Tower.

Whenever Gayen started to panic, this was the mantra she used to remind herself of where she'd come from, and the boring routine which came from being a desk lackey at Starfleet Headquarters where nothing happened, and everyone did, ate, and attended the same things over and over again.

And the gods know I can't go back to that.

"Helm, what's our status?" the Captain suddenly asked, pulling Gayen from her thoughts.

"Coordinates set for Ixthana, Captain," came the calm, toneless reply from the Vulcan to her left.  "Ready to disembark on your command."

"Disembark and proceed to Ixthana," Morgan instructed.  "Warp five."

Gayen's mood shifted from nervous to grouchy, suddenly annoyed with the Vulcan.  She envied his cool, almost casual matter, the way he effortlessly input algorithms and that look of being completely unbothered.

Then again, she wondered, maybe he can teach me some of that.

Next ~ Unraveling

Pitamakan ~ The Doctor's In (#StarTrek)

Previously ~ The Bluest Eye

The only thing keeping Dr. Ae-rin Moon from resigning her Starfleet commission was the fact that this wasn't a patrol vessel on some unstable border somewhere.  The Pitamakan was little more than a shiny science vessel headed to the middle of nowhere.

She'd been dreading this moment since she got news of her promotion.  She entered her quiet sickbay, noting the dim, pale blue lighting and three small beds, but surprisingly large research station for her assistant, and her own spacious office, separated from the rest of the sickbay by a clear wall.

Dr. Ae-rin Moon
I'm a doctor. I can do this.

"Computer, please confirm all medical histories of the crew have been provided."


"Have all the crew submitted fresh blood samples?"

"Negative.  Twenty-three members did not submit samples before coming onboard."

Moon winced, but then told herself to buck up.  I'm a doctor, I can do this.  It's a simple blood drawingI can do that in my sleep.

"Computer, send a message to each of those crew members instructing them to stop by within 26 hours to submit a blood sample."

"Message sent."

"Thank you."

"You know," a new voice cheerfully, interjected, "I can collect those for you.  It's why I'm here after all."


Pitamakan ~ The Bluest Eye (#StarTrek)

Previously ~ Prologue

Cmder. Marisol Noguerra
Looking out the windows of Starbase 832, Commander Marisol Noguerra looked over the USS Pitamakan.  It had a tight, compact, angular body.  Instead of the usual gray hull, there was a deep blue tinge.  The ship seemed to pierce the blackness of space like a slender blue sword.

"It's the thelasium shielding," a voice behind her explained.  Noguerra turned to see a copper-skinned beauty in a gold and black uniform, with a standard-issued gray duffle bag slung over her right shoulder.  "Makes a starship appear to be blue."  She extended her hand.  "Lieutenant Commander Suyana Sisa, Chief Engineer.  Reporting for duty for, sir."

Noguerra accepted her hand and gave it a brisk, firm shake.  "Commander Marisol Noguerra.  Have you met the Captain?"

"Not yet.  I heard she's already aboard the ship.  I understand we're due to disembark within the hour."

Noguerra was briefly caught off guard.  "So soon?"  She turned to look upon the Pitamakan once more.  "I thought we had more time.  I suppose we should get going then."


Pitamakan ~ Prologue (#StarTrek)

Previously ~ Dramatis Personae

Captain Taryn Morgan
Taryn Morgan had never been sensitive about her age.

A devout Starfleet officer, she had stayed fit throughout her entire career, adhering to a strict diet and a regimen of daily exercise.  Her skin was clear, brown, firm and unlined, and there was no gray in her hair, not even during the war.  At the age of fifty-seven, Captain Morgan looked a good ten years younger and was damn proud of every inch of body.

But now, sitting across the gray desk of a much, much, much younger Admiral, Morgan was suddenly patently aware of her age and it made her feel...awkward.

Especially since the younger woman had no qualms about issuing direct orders.

After surviving a horrific assault from the soldiers of the Dominion, Admiral life was clearly agreeing with her.  Tahereh Mahdavi was barely forty, with a newly buxom body from non-stop gourmet eating, and a thick head of freshly dyed red hair, which meant she probably had a stylist actually come to her office every two to three weeks.

"...The Ixthana star system is uninhabited and the chart hasn't been updated in over a year," Mahdavi was explaining, pointing to the screen of her computer.  "Two of our probes were pulled into the sun's corona and rendered useless.  There are five planets, thirty-eight moons, and one Class 2 nebula; I'm going to want every single inch of this system thoroughly scanned for hecarium ore and lythinium deposits.  Before they got torched, the probes indicated a possible supply in this system."

Morgan tried to keep her face neutral.  "This could take a couple of months."