[Backlog] JDL | CDR Merlin, LCDR Stacker

Posted on Wed Jan 13th, 2021 @ 7:28am by Commander Evan Merlin & Commander James Stacker

Mission: A Distant Thunder
Location: CO's Office | Deck 1 | Cold Station Theta
Timeline: SD 242012.24 | Immediately following "In Memoriam."

The doors snicked shut behind the departing chief medical officer, leaving the man in the grey collar to stand there and eye them while his mind raced. Free of needing to focus on immediate surroundings, and conversation, his thoughts positively raced ahead, much like the ancient steamship responding to the summons of the engine room telegraph. Motionless like a statue, arms folded behind his back, his eyes unconsciously flicked back-and-forth even as he remained in silent contemplation.

Several minutes later he shook himself from this repose and headed out the door, stopping only to check something on his computer and make a download to his PADD. To the yeoman at the desk, he said only that he was going down the hall. The look on his face suggested that he was not to be trifled with at this hour, and so the Bolian wisely said nothing. Soon after his boss vanished from sight around the corner. From there it was forty-three paces to the CO’s office and the yeoman outside. Who was dutifully informed that the XO needed to speak with the CO.

"You're in luck, he's in," the yeoman said, nodding towards the door. Normally, in the middle of the main shift, it was rather unpredictable where the CO might be: in his office, in Central Ops, or someplace else entirely, visiting other departments and people.

Right now, though, he was in, trying to stay caught up with the paperwork so that he could take the evening off. Usually, he reserved the evenings for going through the PADDs, reading reports and the non-urgent messages which had piled up during the day.

This evening, however, was the night before Christmas. And while the planet which celebrated this ceremony was just one in the Federation, somehow this had spread to other planets, colonies, ships and starbases. It was a symbol of something which could be found on other planets under other names, which was celebrated by multiple races in different ways. It was the return of light, the victory of light over dark, the bringing of hope.

All over the station preparations were made to celebrate Christmas. Various restaurants and shops had been decorated. A request had come in for a gigantic tree to be placed at the bottom level of the Promenade, extending all the way to the top. Botanists who had worked on the great Arboretum had muttered and scratched their heads, eyes secretly gleaming with the challenge of this endeavour. It had taken them a few days of preparation, but two days ago the tree had been carefully transported and fitted in place. Festive lights had been carefully draped around the tree and added extra sparkle to the Promenade.

This evening, a choir would sing traditional songs from Earth under that tree, and he planned to be there. A good incentive to get some administration done.

He looked up when his XO entered and frowned. This was unusual, something which couldn't wait until their next regular morning meeting or which couldn't be handled by sending a simple message. Something that urgent was rarely good news. He rose, gestured towards a chair, and said simply: "How bad is it?"

The man did as requested and took the seat, although the look on his face didn't change one iota. As befitting the circumstances he skipped straight to business. "Ten minutes ago I was notified that Commodore Ivanova's shuttle went down outside Phoenix, Arizona, on Earth. It's being classified as a 'recovery mission'. I should add that we haven't received this through 'channels,'" he added, using that ubiquitous MACO slang to refer to official message traffic and communiques, "yet, but I expect the news to break any moment. And I do trust the source on this."

The CO gave a brisk nod as he sat down himself. There was this to be said for the man: he normally seemed to be a scatterbrain who voiced every thought which entered his head, but when things got bad, he became utterly calm and efficient. It was into this mode he had shifted the moment he saw the Commander enter.

"Do you know who's leading the recovery mission, and who ordered it?" he asked. His mind seemed to run multiple trains of thought at once. Where was the Vindicator? He quickly called the information up on his screen, typing with one hand, eyes drifting over the screen on its way back to his XO. Where there people who needed to be specifically notified on Cold Station Theta? Other than the residing Admiralty, but they would probably get this message before he could visit them. And other than extending his sympathies, there was little more he could do.

The Ascendancy. They needed to be notified as well – officially as well as through back channels. He knew he wouldn't have to concern himself with the latter. The former, however, would fall on him.

And from the grim demeanour of the man in front of him, he deduced that there would be little to recover.

"Starfleet Intelligence. I was told Commodore Ravnsson is overseeing efforts." There was a slight pause before he continued. Until this point the PADD in the thigh-mounted holster hadn't been touched, but now he withdrew it and checked the screen. A still-active search inquiry was briefly visible before he put it away. "Admiral Hark is on-station at the moment, but hasn't received official notification - yet. Fleet Admiral Red also hasn't been notified. I had intended to make notification to both myself."

Neither name required much by way of explanation. The Commodore was - had been - the daughter of the former Starfleet C-in-C, who after retirement had gone on to become the Federation's Ambassador to the Stenellian Ascendancy. The latter was CO, Beta Fleet, and the Commodore had been her niece. The Fleet Admiral was the most powerful individual in their immediate chain-of-command short of God himself. If God had worn the uniform.

The CO leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. "Yes, you'd better see to that first, then. Through the message is the same, it might be better if you tell them in person before they receive the official notification." Words mattered. The way they were delivered mattered. And Stacker could tell the Admirals how he got word of the crash.

Commodore Ravnsson. The name alone made him frown. He had seen the man exactly once, but to date the head of Starfleet Intel had been the only one ever to make his flesh crawl. There was something about the man, something… He couldn't put it into words, there was just the sense that the way Ravnsson regarded the universe was completely different, and diametral, to the way he himself perceived it. "At a later time I'd like to ask you what you think about the Commodore, but time is moving fast. Please inform the Admirals, we'll talk later."

"Understood sir."

And with that, the XO left, like a brisk, efficient whirlwind. The station commander remind behind in his office. He thought for a few more moments, then grabbed a padd and began to draft a few messages of his own.