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Graham reaches down to take Marala's hand.
"That's very kind of you, Marala." He takes a long breath. "Aside from anything else, I think she feels---embarrassed about her, ah, medical condition's impact on the mission."
He shakes his head. "Which she shouldn't, but I think she does. And an, ah audience might make her feel worse. Or at least less likely to be open to hearing otherwise."
He gives her hand another squeeze. "I won't be long."
Dr. Villa frowns and tells Onn, "I'm sorry, but I'm not going to promise to wake you if there's a change in Mr. Rangin's status. You need your rest. Whatever happens, it can wait until you wake up. You're not going to be getting out of bed and charging off to see him if something should happen, are you, Lieutenant?" It seems a rhetorical question. She makes sure Onn has enough blankets before leaving. Onn doesn't have a hand communicator in the room, but there is a standard small ship's comm panel on the bulkhead within easy reach.
Rawlings says, "You haven't been in the pool yet? Deck 8. Definitely worth a visit. Let me know - I'll show you sometime, and we can take a swim." He smiles when he hears Dr. Mäkeläinen's explanation of the physician's musical instrument of choice, and winks at Kylah. "Yes, I think we all know what a violin is, Doc."
Marala kisses her husband. "Of course. Take your time." She finds a chair in the Sickbay waiting room.
Graham is directed by a nurse to Onn's room. Dr. Villa is just coming out as he approaches.
"Ah hey--I mean, excuse me, doctor," Graham says. "I wanted to check in on Ni- ah, Lt. Onn." He lowers his voice. "I hope we made it back in time so there's no lasting harm."
Dr. Villa smiles. "Hello, Mr. Graham. Yes, she's doing relatively well already, and I have no doubt she'll make a full recovery. Shall I ask if she'd like any visitors?"
Graham nods and forces a smile back. "Sure, I'd be much obliged if you'd let her know I'm here."
Disappointed but not surprised that Villa won't keep her updated on Rangin's condition, Nia pulls the extra blanket over her shoulders and escapes the worry and weariness by shutting her eyes.
Graham and Onn have a good visit (which they can write about as a flashback, if they wish).
Onn learns the next morning, after she awakes, that Rangin's situation is stable but unchanged. Dr. Villa also tells her that the Captain dropped by to visit Onn a few hours after Graham was there, but insisted on not waking her.
You each get a good night's sleep and have a relatively quiet morning back on duty: Graham on Security patrol in the secondary hull, Kylah on Comms duty on the Bridge, and Dr. Mäkeläinen on Sickbay rounds, including checking on Lt. Onn.
You each make your way to Conference Room 1 at 1230 for debriefing and lunch. The Captain and First Officer are already there. Dr. Mäkeläinen accompanies Onn, who Dr. Villa allows out of bed for the debriefing with strict orders that she is to return to Sickbay if she feels at all fatigued or stressed.
"I've read your After-Mission Reports; thank you for them," the Captain says after you've selected food and drink from the bulkhead food dispenser and taken your seats. "Anything anyone wishes to add? Any points that deserve discussion here?"
Capt. Singh is having a fruit and cheese assortment, and a glass of ice water; Cmdr. Vargas has a roast beef sandwich and a large mug of coffee.
Graham has been poking at a shepherd's pie, but at the captain's comment he stands. He pulls the bottom of his uniform shirt down and tight and clears his throat.
"I. ah, would like to express my sincere gratitude for, uh, let me be blunt, saving our bacon, to you, Captain, and Yorktown's crew." He nods and then adds, "And I would like for formally nominate Ens. Kylah for a commendation for quick thinking and innovation that made it possible."
He clears his throat again. "With that said, I would also like to claim full and entire responsibility for all failures of protocol and procedure, including failure to secure the shuttle, failure to investigate Mr. Ragin's possibly homicidal incident, and any occurrences on the Uwat ship. As the senior Security officer present, I made judgment calls about life and safety, and I would accept no opposition, regardless of formal rank or other mission responsibilities. I would like to note good counsel from the doctor and Lt. Onn, but I claim all failures as mine and mine alone." He nods. "Ma'am, sir."
The Doctor was glad to see Lt. Onn on her feet, and told her so.
Dr. Mäkeläinen helps himself to a coffee and a dressed-up bagel for lunch, but he pays full attention once the discussion starts and does not eat while the Captain or the others are speaking.
When it is his turn, he says, "As eager as our officer is to fall on his sword, I must take equal responsibility. Had I problems with any judgement calls, I would have spoken up at the time. At no time did I feel pressured to stifle my opinions or that our orders were jeopardizing anyone's health and safety.
"Concerning the shuttle, it's arguably more secure, temporarily, at the bottom of a frozen lake in the middle of the forest than it would be in a more accessible location. It felt like we were pretty much out of control at that point, and I can only assume that in the hands of a lesser pilot we would have broken up in the atmosphere or augured into the terrain, not lucky enough to find that flat spot, let alone survive the landing."
Though normally ice water is Nia's favorite go-to drink, today her hands are curled around a mug of hot water with lemon. She's still not fully warm; even the normally pretty comfortable ship temperature isn't yet reaching the ice that feels like it's infecting her marrow. She plans to ask Dr. Villa for the warm lavage that, for whatever reason, the hospital on Ollos wouldn't perform.
Instead, she gets a splash of cold water when Booker suddenly takes full blame for everything that went down--and while she listens, mouth agape, Dr. Mäkeläinen follows through with more exoneration.
For the first time in days, Nia laughs without ending with a cough. Shaking her head, she lifts a hand to forestall Double-T from chiming in. "Uh, should I wait while you play the gallant knight next, or can we get to the facts?" Her eyes shift to Kylah, who's staring in dazed awe at Booker and the compliments bestowed upon her. Nia's not expecting any praise from that quarter, so she doesn't give the girl any time to respond. The question was rhetorical anyway.
She pushes herself up to her feet and turns to the Captain and Vargas, mostly the former. "Ma'am. As you know, Dr. Villa told me to hold off on writing my AMR yet. In the meantime you need to know just how full of bu--uh, tact--the others' reports are. I expect it from Lt. Graham. Taking phaser fire and sacrificing for others is kinda what he does. But Dr. Mäkeläinen? A straight-shooter, from all I've seen? That's a little surprising. Although maybe it shouldn't be. He spent most of the mission hoisting me on his shoulders and saving my ass."
Nia would flush, if her blood weren't busy trying to remember how to circulate. "Sorry, Captain; Commander. I don't mean to be vulgar. More than usual, anyway." She nods to the crew. "Point is, I put all of their lives in jeopardy. Not just by crashing the Tesla on that forsaken planet that hated Starfleet before we even arrived. But way before that, by not doing the pre-flight check myself once we were done with Hutchinson. Not taking enough reserve Bilitrium with me. Not being capable of figuring out what happened to the shuttle in the first place, much less fixing it. Choosing the wrong spot to land. And then every rushed action that put us all at risk because we had to find transport as fast as possible, that was solely 'cause of me. Lt. Rangin getting into some bar fight out of desperation to get us off planet--that was on me too. He shouldn't have been anywhere near that dive. None of them would've been except for my personal welfare.
"Along with not having time to perform due diligence on the Doregg, not figuring out we were on board a slave ship that contained multiple enemies, including the slavers, and a group of First Contact aliens who confronted me and Rangin after I mouthed off to them. And finally the bunch who I straight-up told we were Starfleet because I didn't have the brainpower to suss out that they weren't super-religious Vulcans but frickin' Romulans--Tal Shiyar, no less. I put us in such a dire situation that the Yorktown cut your mission short to fly to the rescue. Not securing the Tesla as ordered. Asking for her in the first place, just 'cause I wanted to take this insanely experimental, highly confidential and costly piece of tech out for a spin. Then destroying her."
Exhausted, Nia leans her hands on the table and stares down at her blank datapad. "I'm glad Lt. Cmdr. Cheverez isn't here. I'm not sure I could look him in the face. It's hard enough saying all this to you two. All our efforts, gone. Having to admit I abandoned our baby... something I never thought I'd do..."
She changes the subject, knowing she's in treacherous territory. "I'll say this much. I do agree with Lt. Graham's commendation rec for Ensign Kylah. I wish she hadn't had to drag you all away from Cavinre, but she did, somehow keeping our Starfleet status a secret, which is more than I did. But I'd extend the commendations to the entire crew for stepping up. The doc here...thanks to multiple injuries incurred by the crew, he was kept hopping, and all the while having to guess how to help my freakish biology. Not just physically, either. His bedside manner's impressive. He might give Dr. Noel a run for her money.
"Double-T--Ens. Rawlings--helped protect us from the Chalnoth even while, as far as I know, he'd barely recovered from a fracture post-Tesla crash. And Lt. Rangin... I don't even know exactly what happened to him on my watch. The one thing I claim success for is that for once, Ens. Kylah didn't require post-mission medical treatment. Far as I know." Again she laughs, this time ending with a slight wheeze, barely audible. "I'm saying 'far as I know' a lot. That's 'cause I spent much of the mission addle-brained or unconscious. I wasn't fit to command and I took too damn long to cede. Fortunately, Lt. Graham took on the responsibility, and did so as ably as he's run every mission I've known him to lead."
Nia lifts her gaze to meet his. "You did, Book," she mouths silently. And finally, she sinks back down to her seat. "Believe it or not," she says to Vargas and Singh, somewhat dryly, "that's the short version. The rest you'll get in my AMR, ASAP."
The Doctor forces himself to speak coolly despite the fact that his neck is on the line. "No plan survives contact with the enemy; we all know that. Can't rely on good luck, or any luck. I made sure we had adequate medical supplies, including a full standard emergency kit for a short mission. It was absolutely by the book; I checked. The fact remains, it was an unmitigated failure of the medical arm of this mission. I neglected to requisition reserve Bilitrium. I had talked to Lt. Onn earlier, but never asked for a precise inventory of how much she had on her. Hitting an unmarked quantum filament, or whatever it was, I don't know about that, but if the mission had not devolved into a medical emergency from the very beginning, things might have gone quite differently. That, at least, was one thing unequivocally under our control."
Kylah cannot help turning to Ens. Rawlings, the only other person who has yet to respond to this bizarre briefing. She has been on disastrous missions in her short time as a Starfleet officer, but never one where the highest-ranked officers were jumping over themselves to take responsibility for causing them--far more self-castigation than is warranted, in her inexpert opinion.
There was no callous disregard for safety here, as on the Sakathian station where dozens of strangers, Velir and poor Lt. JG Fujishiro were brutally infected by irresponsible scientists. And in the insanity that was the OCIII mission, there was no resentment, malicious endangerment or incompetent sabotage that led to abandoning party members to take on multiple killers on their own. Kylah's private disaster on that planet was largely her fault, and fortunately no one was affected but herself.
What makes this peculiar game of oneupsmanship in blame-taking so alarming is that Kylah can sense that each of the three officers here believes themselves to be accurate. She is less certain of Dr. Mäkeläinen, but only because she knows him so little, and his baseline emotions are still hard for her to read.
All she offers is a very brief murmured 'thank you' to her superiors' praise, and repeats what she herself admitted to in her own AMR: her regret over missing the Romulans' deception. Even that she cannot explain fully without revealing that she should have been able to tell the difference between Vulcan and Romulan methods of controlling their emotions. Then she falls silent and again shares a confused look with Mr. Rawlings.
I don't get it, Nia thinks while frowning slightly at Mäkeläinen. Is he making my point, or--is he still taking the blame for something he couldn't possibly have done anything about?
She's not gonna open her mouth again. First, she's already said enough to get demoted, at the very least. Probably this gives Vargas the opportunity she suspects he's been looking for, to ditch a skilled but annoying helmswoman: something that also, and most important to the Security Chief, removes the necessity of carting around the risky, volatile Bilitrium compound that he's never wanted anywhere near the Yorktown. Win-win. He can retire in peace knowing he's got rid of a high-maintenance officer and her potentially explosive accessories from the ship in a single stroke.
Second, it's inappropriate to say anything further until requested. Nia may be too irreverent for Vargas's liking, and maybe sometimes Singh's as well, though the Captain seems to rate her piloting highly enough to accept her quirks (or at least, tolerate them without complaint). But Nia does revere the Yorktown and respects Singh...and even tight-assed Vargas, something she'd only admit to if threatened with a phaser. And a briefing is not the time or place for a free-for-all.
So she just clutches her mug tightly enough to be lucky it's unbreakable. And averts her gaze to the slice of lemon within, floating in an aromatic but aimless circle.
The Captain seems taken aback by all that has been said, and then almost bemused. "I appreciate everyone's candor, or, I might even say... brutal honesty. Your mission didn't go as planned, to be sure. Far from it. But you all made it back alive, surviving both a dangerous First Contact and an encounter with Romulan operatives, and you helped free those being held captive in cyrosleep aboard the Uwat ship. That is much to your credit. I regret the loss of the shuttlecraft Tesla, of course, but given the various problems confronting you after leaving the Starfleet prison on Jaros II, it seems to me that you handled them about as well as anyone could have. I do not ask for perfection from any of my officers or crew. We learn more from our mistakes than our successes. You will each have learned useful lessons, I trust, and will do all the better on your next mission." She thinks a moment and then turns to Rawlings. "We haven't heard from you, though, Mr. Rawlings," she says.
"I, uh, have nothing to add to my AMR, ma'am," he says. "It was a tough mission, and not one I care to repeat, but we got through it. And, as you say, I hope we can learn from it, both the good and the bad."
"Thank you, Mr. Rawlings," she says, nodding, before turning to the First Officer. "Now, please bring us all up to date, Cmdr. Vargas."
Years ago, then-16-year-old Nia was tested by the latest resident Starfleet scientists, who were to judge her ability to leave Sidonia--really, to gauge whether she'd be of value to the Federation and was capable of the immense amount of effort it would take to acclimate her to a new life outside her family, planet, atmosphere and solar system.
One of them had been fairly stern. The other, an atypically softhearted Vulcan, was rooting for Nia, likely attached to the idea of saving her from what these offlanders considered slavery. During one of the earliest prep classes, the information seemed like a banquet crammed with platters of food that Nia couldn't possibly digest. She'd been overwhelmed, and slow to pick up the multitude of different social and biological concepts of the civilizations most prominent in the Federation.
She couldn't hide her frustration, which concerned the mentor. As a result, for several weeks Nia had been spoken to with such extreme gentle patience--well intentioned, to be sure--that she began to feel like a fragile infant at a creche. Eventually, Nia proved herself, and the toddler-level treatment vanished. But it had rankled.
Now, Nia listens to Singh's words with dread, then disbelief, and finally a kind of numb anger. Just what in the acid-spewing heavens did Villa say about me? she thinks, keeping her gaze neutral. Did she give Singh the impression I'm so choked with guilt I'm likely to turn an overloaded phaser on myself if even slightly chastized? What was that line, 'We don't expect perfection'? Holy Seht'dar's prolific balls!
Nia has to force herself not to perform a full-body cringe at the condescension--certainly unintentional, just like Dr. Li's delicate attempts to simplify questions and flatter teenaged Nia--but condescending nonetheless. Maybe the others' AMRs were so anodyne that her sudden onslaught of facts came as a total surprise to the captain, who could respond only with automatic platitudes? Bless Singh's tact, but if I 'learn more from my mistakes,' that performance must've won me the most advanced degree any Academy grad ever earned.
At the end, she just nods at Double-T for his own closed-mouthness and steadies herself. Vargas must have his own thoughts--Mother of us all, I can just imagine! But after Singh's diplomatic response Nia doubts he'll contradict her take in public. Maybe in private he'd rip Nia a new one, but even then, she's not sure he'd take a different course from their CO. After a gulp of the still-hot water, Nia lets herself purse her lips (the lemon gives her a good excuse) and turns to Vargas. If nothing else, she definitely wants to hear what's been going on.
Captain Singh's voice is a balm to the tension that has choked the room for the past several minutes. Kylah has been keeping her arms behind her back, clasping and unclasping her cold hands throughout. Now she can relax; the older woman's patient, calm demeanor is not what Kylah--nor, judging from the electric buzz of emotions she can sense from her crewmates--was expecting. She exhales softly in relief, and to her the whole group seems to do so, as well.
No...not the whole group. Kylah senses a hidden dissonance across from her. She casts a surreptitious glance at Lt. Onn, whose expression is still as a frozen pond but is being worn as a mask. Within, the helm officer is barely repressing some churning resentment, and the effort required to hide this seems to Kylah like an alarm bell, clanging discordantly enough to make Kylah wince.
Why is she not pleased? Captain Singh could not be more forgiving! Flicking her attention away before Lt. Onn notices, Kylah wrinkles her nose and nods along with Ens. Rawlings's brief but well-spoken remarks. She takes a quick look at Lt. Graham, to see if he appears as fraught as their former mission leader. Meanwhile she waits, very curious to find out from Cmdr. Vargas what has happened to the slaves, or any repercussions regarding the Romulans and Uwat...or the events at the Black Sun. And the slaves, have they been successfully awoken? There is so much she hopes to hear.
Mäkeläinen also thought they did their best (and delivered acceptable, for what that is worth, results— abstract effort counts not at all), which is what his report said. Surely the Captain is of the same mind, otherwise she would, if not rip someone a new one, have said so (she would not leave that to Vargas). That is, after all, the entire point of this meeting. There is a place for games and sous-entendres, and this is not it. He is satisfied on that score, even as he knows, without having it pointed out to him, that there are ‘useful lessons’ to be learned. Nia seems to be taking it especially hard.
He also suspects that there might be more blame to go around if there had been some bad fallout, so he pays close attention to what the First Officer is saying, expecting neutral or good news. It might be a mitigated disaster.
Graham nods in Vargas direction. "Thank you, sir--repaying the loan is the obviously honorable thing to do, I'm remiss in not having brought it up."
He clear his throat. "On that note--has there been any, uh, investigation of what happened with Beowulf previously? There were people there with, ah--earnest and honest concerns."
(NB: I can't get italics to work for some reason; maybe browser compatibility.)
Several thoughts spring to mind while Cmdr. Vargas reports, but Kylah's mouth pops open to protest the characterization of the Beowulf incident--probably coming straight from the freighter's crew themselves, no doubt--as an "unpleasant reception." But when he immediately continues with the grim fate of the Tesla, she instinctively keeps silent. She does not dare look at Lt. Onn.
When the Captain asks for questions, Kylah hesitates. The senior officers will likely wish answers to much unfinished business, and she must defer to them. Her own fear of any ramifications of Velir's altercation in the nightclub is too uncomfortable to air in front of anyone but the Captain. Her gaze takes in the non-Sidonian members of the Tesla party. How did they describe Velir's reported actions? None of them witnessed it, including herself. And of course, Velir is not in a state to have submitted an AMR.
Lt. Graham satisfies her by bringing up the Beowulf himself--and far more diplomatically than she might have. She also wishes to ask about the sole Uwat in those cryo pods, but clearly there will be nothing to learn if they have not yet recovered. She does not even know the Romulans beamed him or her away with the rest. If they did not slaughter him outright.
And that leads her to the only thing Kylah feels imperative to ask. Although it is Aldaan whose prevailing interest, from lightyears away, triggers her only words.
"Ma'am, I fully understand that this subject may be classified, and even if not it is likely presumptuous of me to ask of it, but I..." She swallows. "Will there be any interaction with Romulus over this? I know the Tal Shiyar onboard were saving their own, and did not directly harm us. But in the end, the Major plotted a course for the Doregg that would have killed us all, if Lt. Graham had not been able to steer us away."
It's not that Nia doesn't care about the rescued slaves. Of course she does. It's just that they feel only hypothetical to her. Not hypothetical, that's the wrong word. Abstract. She never saw them. Only heard about them during one or two of her brief conscious periods, when the Romulans had already discovered and revealed them to Booker and Kylah. Nevertheless she's grateful the Doregg will now take them to freedom, instead of whatever revolting, degrading destinations it had originally headed for. Lucky the Tal Shiyar was on that ship. Ha, they probably won some allies for the Romulans outta their rescue mission. Assuming Starfleet shares that little detail with the victims.
If they don't, she'll be tempted to leak the true heroes of the day. No way should she, or Starfleet by proxy, take any credit for it.
Every ounce of restraint she possesses focuses on preventing her from asking: Who's flying the Doregg? Who's doing my job? Because it's not her job, it's a privilege, and it's one she's not fit for either mentally or physically. Normally, she'd be ideal. Mastering the nuances of an utterly alien species' flight controls? Who better than Nia? That's been her primary task since leaving Sidonia. But she doesn't have the hubris to ask, or the stupidity to think her weak body and apparently questionable mental state would be considered.
Her otherwise frozen gaze blinks when Vargas mentions something-or-other Quinn. Who is that? Rich enough to arrange their own transport. Sounds like a celebrity wanting to get away from media. She struggles to recall any reference to such a passenger...but nope, her memory's not feeling generous right now.
What she's waiting for in this report, both with hope and dread, doesn't arrive. Not until Double-T opens his fat mouth--ugh, that's not fair. Maybe he's sparing her the need to ask the question. Maybe it's just natural curiosity. Either way, her whole body's in virtual stasis while listening to Vargas's words, seeing his expression. Her palms then shift to flatten on the table, fingertips bloodless.
When the others' initial questions are asked she can't keep from speaking. If you can call the croak coming from her strangled throat 'speech.'
"Is the Beowulf taking her here?" Her eyes shift to Captain Singh. "Is she already home?"
The Captain replies to Graham, "There are clearly very different recollections about what happened the last time the Beowulf was in the Ollos system. What the locals say, and what the Starfleet crew says, just don't match up. The ship's logs and sensor records appear to bear out Capt. Niinistö's account of what happened, however, showing that his ship was not the aggressor."
To Kylah she says, "Starfleet Command and the Foreign Office are aware, at the highest levels, of what happened between you and the Tal Shiar. I don't know what they will do with that information, and I suspect we may not have a need to know, at least in the short term." She smiles. "But if I do find out, and if I'm permitted to tell you, I certainly will."
She asks Onn, "Do you mean the wreckage of the Tesla? No, it will be taken to Starbase 27 for study and, I'm afraid, scrapping."
Dr. Mäkeläinen's impression of the Tal Shiar operatives, the officers, at least, is that they were intelligent, capable, flexible, resilient, rational, reasonable ruthless cold-blooded killers. Did the Federation have anything like that? Of course they do. He wonders whether the Federation counterparts are any different, ultimately. In any case, he does not expect much information concerning the Tal Shiar will be flowing their way down from the high command, in the short term or otherwise.
"One matter that concerns me," he says, "is whether there be a way to prevent what happened to the Tesla— what happened to us— from happening to anyone else. If they are able to establish definitively what it was that caused the—" he almost says "accident", but that, too, is yet to be determined— "malfunction, I imagine I will not be the only one reassured to hear about it." He exchanges a look with Nia. Having the actual wreck and raw sensor data to study will increase the chance of that, he reasons. One of the few positive outcomes of this debacle, and an important one.
Capt. Singh nods. "Yes, that's what the study of the shuttle's wreckage is intended to help determine. Early indications are that you did, as Mr. Rangin suggested soon after, hit a quantum filament."
(See posts 800, 820 and 829).
Nia, who feels like she's settled at the bottom of a frigid lake of her own since learning the Tesla's headed for scrap, doesn't speak for a moment. She dimly wonders which of the team noted Rangin's suspicion in their AMR, since neither she nor Rangin have submitted their reports, and Book... well, that seems unlikely. Double-T was suffering with a broken arm at the time and might not've caught it. Probably Kylah or Bizhi.
Well, who doesn't matter. She's just glad for him to get the credit. "Lt. Rangin was also the one to find the Doregg," she murmurs without affect. "We were lucky to have him on board." Her gaze lifts to survey her fellow officers before dropping to her hands again. "The same goes to the rest of the team. I owe you my life, and couldn't have asked for a better crew to command, when I was able." She tilts her head slightly toward Book. "Or a better leader, when I wasn't."
Since the others are standing, Nia doesn't ask permission to get to her feet, and pushes up with only a little difficulty. "Thank you for updating us, Captain Singh. Commander Vargas." She does her best to rid her tone of its dullness. "Pardon me, I know I need to complete my own report and prepare to return to duty. Are we dismissed?"
Kylah reaches her hand up to her chest upon learning the Tesla's fate. Not because she grieves the waste of what seemed a special project--she is not sentimental about machinery. But the sudden stabbing wound erupting from Lt. Onn's psyche is so sharply transmitted to Kylah, she would not be surprised to look down to see her own skin weeping blood.
She slowly drops her hand (blood-free, of course) and shakes her head in sympathy. The helm officer's face remains nearly expressionless except for her closed eyes, drawing a veil across her reaction.
Mention of Velir's suspicion about the cause of the shuttle accident proving likely correct whisks Kylah's attention back to the Captain. She cannot prevent her pride, magnified when Lt. Onn remarks on it as well. Kylahis surprised to hear someone ask to be dismissed, but she herself is now antsy to leave--unless of course there is something further from Capt. Singh or Cmdr. Vargas. Before she begins her watch, she hopes to visit Velir, and, if there is time, to return to her cabin to see whether Aldaan has responded yet.
Kylah looks hopefully at the Captain.
"Yes, thank you all," the Captain says. "Dismissed."
Free to go! Kylah is relieved to distance herself from the mixed emotions clouding the room, and thanks Capt. Singh with a bob of her head. After casting a very brief and hopefully not-too-pitying look at the mission's first C.O., she will leave with whoever departs first. She asks Dr. Mäkeläinen if he is heading straight to Sickbay. If he is, she will accompany him (with his permission, of course) to see Velir. She vaguely tells the doctor that, once Velir's psi abilities magnified so greatly on the Doregg, his ability to communicate directly to her might be triggered by her presence.
Even as she speaks, she consults her communicator to determines where her watch will be--on the Bridge or in the Comms Center. Her anxiety about Velir is palpable, and she is concerned about hearing back from her uncle. Nevertheless, she feels an atypical lightness new to her since she joined the Yorktown. It does feel good to be back on the ship, with a new, pleasing sense of camaraderie among most of the former Tesla crew.
Nia thanks her superiors and busies herself with taking her mug over to the replicator, this time asking for beef broth. She keeps her head down and speaks more slowly than usual: an effort to make sure the others have left so she can avoid them. That includes Singh and especially Vargas, although if their plan is to remain in the room for some private discussion, Nia's ready to skulk out without a word.
She's supposed to report to Dr. Villa to see if she's fit for duty. Nia grimaces as she watches the hot broth appear before her--not because she doesn't like it; to the contrary, its scent is homey and surprisingly well seasoned for replicator grub. But she's not hungry. She needs to see Cheverez and the thought nauseates her.
Still, unless Villa orders her for more recovery time--or Noel puts her in restraints after having learned who-knows-what about her psychic state from Singh and Villa--Nia's determined to get to Engineering. She may get unearned forgiveness or much-deserved anger, but either way, time to suck it up. In the end, she's a Sidonian woman. And she's survived far worse than near-suffocation, crippling shame and a broken heart.
Kylah is next expected for duty in the Communications Center. There is no news on Rangin or from her uncle.
Dr. Villa permits Onn to return to limited duty - no more than four hours a day, and in bed or remaining quietly in her quarters otherwise. When the doctor is fully satisfied by Onn's recovery, she promises, she will lift these restrictions.
The Doregg leaves with her prize crew and the Chalnoth. Hrothgar Quinn's hired transport meets up with the Yorktown, and he takes his leave. The Starfleet heavy cruiser sets a return course for the troubled world of Cavinre VII.
THE END