Captains Log: Prologue

Computer: Begin recording.

Personal log, Chief Medical Officer Lipton, USS ASCLEPIUS, Stardate [REDACTED]. We are approaching the [REDACTED] system, Pellia sector, on report of unusual biogenic casualties among the staff of an allied outpost- Wait a minute. “Redacted”? What’s wrong with saying [REDACTED]? [REDACTED]. [REDACTED]! [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED]! Oh, what the hell?

Dee Lipton angrily puts down the stylus she has idly been twirling in her hand while recording at her office desk, and punches in commands to her terminal. After a couple of waiting beeps a languid contralto voice responds: “Go for S’Roke.” There is a resonant vibrato to the feminine voice.

“Merrith, Dee here. Did you put some kind of auto-redaction filter on my personal files?”

“Ah. Hello doctor,” The Caitian chief security officer of the ASCLEPIUS replies, “I was wondering when you’d notice it.” 

“Wha-, when?” Dee stops herself, refocusing her thoughts, “Since when?”

“Since we left DS9 on this mission. New protocol. Starfleet Intelligence is worried about information leaks and data security.” Her voice subtly rolls her ‘r’s. 

“Aren’t all records encrypted anyway? Especially when transmitted?”

“They are. This is just another layer of data obfuscation. Honestly, Dee, haven’t you played back any of your logs since we embarked?”

Dee thinks for a moment, realizes sheepishly that she has in fact not reviewed a single personal or professional log made since they left the deep space station on their latest assignment. She then frowns.

“Merrith, what would be the point of reviewing my logs, if all the details are redacted?”

Merrith S’Roke makes a sound, not quite a purr but more like a distracted ‘hmmm’ that a human would, then says: “You request de-redaction and use your authentication. All your redacted logs are encrypted with your personal encryption protocol.”

“I have a personal encryption?”

“Everyone does, now,” Merrith said, “Captain has called for a department head meeting in fifteen minutes. See you there.” With that, the channel closes.

Dee leans back in her chair, swings it once around on its swivel base while sighing in exasperation. She then turns back to her terminal: “Computer: resume recording.”

Personal reminder to check with Doctor T’Pern on Medical’s stores of [REDACTED]-GAH!

With a growl of annoyance Dee smacks the cancel control on her terminal. She stands and grabs her lab coat from the back of her chair and shrugs into it. She then leaves her office, choosing to take a long walk to calm herself before arriving at the captain's ready room.

-Captain's ready room, fourteen minutes later-

The doors to the ready room shuush open for Lipton. She’s the last exec staff member to arrive, but she isn’t late. Seated around the long table are the department heads for the ASCLEPIUS. Their position demonstrate an informal hierarchy of responsibilities aboard the Federation medical ship:

Captain Je’Ghettorii, Efrosian, sat at the head of the table. His attention currently focussed on a datapad in his hands.

Commander Gav Neroon stands next to the captain's chair, though he had a chair to the captain’s immediate right. Even standing, the Tellarite still only comes to the Captain’s seated head height. 

Across from the Exec’s chair was another empty chair; one formally left open for visiting dignitaries and high-ranking fleet officers.

The next chair to the left of the captain was empty, waiting for her. Medical missions was the primary mission of the ASCLEPIUS, after all.

Next in line, on the right of Gav’s equally empty chair sat T’Lara, the ship’s Vulcan science officer. Science and medicine being the top two departments aboard the ship.

Tanner Dylan, the ship’s chief of engineering was next right.

Kerric, the ships’ Trill counselor, sat across from the engineer, next to Dee’s chair.

Merrith S’Roke, the Caitian ship’s chief of security, sat next to Dylan. 

There were other empty chairs, but this was the core exec team.

Dee takes her chair.

“You’re late, doctor,” Gav grumbles as a greeting, “but I am used to that.” Tellarites liked greeting known friends with insults. Then again, Dee muses, they like greeting everyone with insults.

“Get your chronometer fixed, Commander. I am not late,” Dee responds, knowing that Gav would appreciate a stout retort. 

Gav sniffs, but can’t entirely hide his bemusement. He takes his chair, turns to the head of the table: “Captain?”

Je’Ghettorii glances up, nods to Gav, turns off his pad. Then turns to the rest of the table. His rich baritone voice commands attention.

“Thank you all. Lets begin,” He taps a string of commands into the panel at his end of the table. The wall screen behind him activates, displaying the profile of a star system. Smaller sections show the systems’ location within the Pellia sector, and another shows Pellia’s disconcerting closeness to the warzone that was the Federation’s current conflict with the Dominion and their Cardassian and Breen allies. They were getting close to the front lines, and the ASCLEPIUS was the opposite of a warship. 

“On Stardate TBD, Outpost 9712 sent coded alert messages signaling biological casualties of unknown cause. Starfleet hasn’t heard anything since. We’re to go in, assess the situation and help where we can. The outpost only has a standing crew of one-hundred-and-fifty, so we can easily take all of them onboard if we need to evacuate.

“Yes, S’Roke?” Merrith had raised her hand and now lowers it and speaks:

“Sir, are we alone out here? What kind of backup and response can we expect?”

“The USS Applewaithe is in the sector, performing patrols. She’s of the new Steamrunner class; fast and no heavyweight, but she still outguns us. If we need her. I’ve already checked in with her captain and we’ll be in regular touch.”

Je’Ghettorii turns to Dee: “Doctor Lipton, is Medical ready?”

Dee nods to her captain: “That we are. We’re still taking stock of the supplies we got at DS9. Things were awfully hectic there, and it’s not impossible we got loaded up with someone else’s supplies, but so far everything is as expected.”

The Efrosian nods in acceptance of her report: “Chaos in wartime is to be expected. I know you and your teams will do their best.”

He then turns to his science officer: “T’Lara?” The Vulan looks up from her own datapad.

“Captain, I have been collecting and collating data from the sector for past medical crises, biological surveys, and other possible factors. I shall have a full report shortly.” Her attention then goes back to her pad, returning to whatever data trawling algorithms she has running.

“Mister Dylan, how’s our ship?” Je’Ghettorii then asks the chief engineer.

“All systems green, sir.” The young man replies. He’s quite young for the position, but highly competent and confident. The war was forcing more and more young officers into leadership roles early. The captain nods and turns to the ship’s counselor.

“Counselor? How’s the crew?”

“Everyone’s in fine spirits, sir,” The Trill male replies. “There’s some trepidation about the ongoing war, of course. That last operation on Deja-IV left some emotional scars, but so far everyone’s eager to get back into the thick of things and do good where they can.”

“Merrith, anything else?” He asks the ship’s security chief. She also serves as the ship’s tactical officer, such as the role was for a medical ship. Merrith S’Roke shakes her head in the negative. 

There’s a chime from the captains panel, followed by a voice: “Bridge to Captain. We’re dropping out of warp at the edge of the system.” In time with the message they all feel the ever-present thrum of the ships’ warp drive change in pitch, and the stream of stars outside the viewport slow to standstill dots of light.

“Alright people,” the captain says, standing from his seat, “Stations. Let’s get to it.”