The Devil's Front Door

Posted on Tue Jun 17th, 2025 @ 9:30pm by Captain Björn Kodak & Lieutenant JG Sheldon Parsons & Lieutenant Commander Emni t'Nai & Lieutenant Axod Qo & Lieutenant Bailey Good

Mission: Seven Souls
Location: Conference Lounge
Timeline: Mission Day 1 at 1950

[Conference Lounge]
[USS Sojourner]
[MD 1: 1930 Hours]

The USS Sojourner’s conference lounge lay in muted stillness, a stark contrast to the chaos still echoing through the ship. Beyond the expansive viewport, the crimson tendrils of the nebula churned, their fiery hues a haunting reminder of the ambush that had crippled the ship and stolen seven of its crew. The viewport’s glass, usually a window to the vast unknown, now framed the unsettling reality of their current vulnerability.

Seated at the head of the table was Captain Björn Kodak, his golden eyes distant, reflecting both the flames of the nebula and the turmoil within. His uniform bore the evidence of the earlier attack — scorched fabric, smeared blood -- and the hastily sealed remnants of a head wound treated by t'Nai adorned his brow. The Captain's hands rested on the table, knuckles pale, fingers interlaced as if grounding himself against the storm raging outside and within.

To his right sat Commander Emni t’Nai, her posture straight and composed. The half-Romulan first officer's hands rested lightly on a PADD, which displayed preliminary reports from across the ship. The dim lighting of yellow alert in the lounge cast soft shadows across her features, accentuating the lines of thought etched into her quiet expression as she and Kodak waited for the other invitees to arrive.

In front of the pair, the table’s holo-display rested idle, a map of the sector flickering softly, awaiting input to chart their next move. Nearby, a tray of untouched rations and sealed water pouches sat on a side console — evidence of the hastily prepared but necessary sustenance for those who might not have seen a break since the attack began. With the replicator systems down, rations and water would have to serve in place of the kaffee, water crackers, and little cookies Kodak usually liked to have set out for staff conferences.

An empty chair awaited Counselor Axod Qo, whose role in this meeting would extend beyond strategy — his insight into the crew’s emotional state was as critical as any tactical assessment would be. While the Counselor had come to the bridge earlier as summoned, he and Kodak hadn't had an extensive opportunity to talk just yet. But Kodak had made it clear that he expected the Doosadarian to be direct and honest about his perspective on all things, including the Captain's own biases and behaviors.

Another seat was for Lieutenant JG Sheldon Parsons, the newly acting chief engineer, whose updates on the ship’s damaged systems would likely dictate the feasibility of any rescue plan. With Chief F'Rar still in critical condition down in Sickbay -- the Sojo seemed to be losing its senior officers left and right -- it was up to Parsons, now bereft of the loving support of his two best friends Iry and Noah -- to manage the technical crises facing the ship and coordinate his people to return the ship to fighting shape.

The third seat remained open for Lieutenant Bailey Good, the assistant chief security officer, who had been coordinating with security teams to assess the Kazon boarding party and secure the ship’s vulnerable systems. With Maritz having been taken from the Sojourner, the input of Good -- a mostly-unknown quantity up to this point -- would be crucial, especially with several members of her department injured in the firefight with the Kazon.

The hum of the ship’s struggling systems filled the silence, a constant reminder of the damage they had sustained. The air held a faint, acrid tang—a mix of burnt circuitry and the lingering sting of coolant vapors, remnants of the damage control teams’ efforts to stabilize the ship.

Kodak’s gaze remained fixed on the nebula, his expression unreadable. The weight of leadership bore down on him, the line between Captain and grieving partner a razor’s edge. His eyes flicked to the lounge's doors, which remained closed for the moment, but the muted thrum of approaching footsteps suggested the meeting would soon begin in earnest, however.

A whisper- hoarser and more grating than usual- preceded the slow and labored opening of the Lounge door. In stepped a relative unknown. She was Human, or at least Human-like. A little taller than the typical. Pale skin with a hint of freckles over her nose bridge was an anomaly on a stern face with dark eyes, eye shadow and razor cut brown hair. Some of it had been gathered into a stubby tail to get it out of her eyes. Other pieces were pushed behind her ears.

She wore a black uniform undershirt, and the dull gray of the tactical vest. On her hip was a hand phaser. As she entered she set eyes on t'Nai and Kodak first. Coming to a halt, her feet were a shoulder's width apart. She put her hands behind her back, her shoulders squared. "Lieutenant Good, reporting as ordered." Her voice was even, mid-toned, softly rounded almost like she was about to tell a story. But her eyes stayed hard for a moment.

The Doosodarian Counselor followed closely behind Lieutenant Good, his movements fluid yet deliberate. His sharp eyes flicked between the Lieutenant and the Captain, silently seeking confirmation that his presence was permitted while the woman made her report. A subtle nod—or rather, the absence of any objection—was enough to ease his unspoken question.

Satisfied, Ax stepped forward and lowered himself into the empty chair with practiced ease, though true comfort remained elusive. The tension in the room was palpable, threading through the air like an unspoken challenge. He adjusted his posture, keeping his expression neutral yet attentive, a quiet observer in the storm of whatever crisis had brought them here. His gaze settled briefly on the Captain, then on Good, silently bracing himself for what came next.

"Thank you all for joining us," the Captain nodded to each in turn. Axod and Parsons, of course, he knew. But Good was an unknown quantity beyond a few half-remembered details from her service jacket -- sent ahead of her arrival on the Sojo -- and the quick meet-and-greet he and t'Nai did for all newly-arriving crew. "Welcome to you especially, Lieutenant," the Chameloid tried to offer a glimpse of his customary warmth but it was more of an embery-flicker than a cozy flame. "Thank you for stepping up in your department head's...absence," he rasped. Describing it as more than simply being unavailable, it seemed, was difficult at the moment. "Are you settling in alright?" he asked the young woman.

Good hadn't worked with Maritz for long. But it seemed safe to say what she was about to say. "We'll get him back, sirs." She did an almost noncommittal sway of her head, something akin to a half nod that she rethought and then half-shook. "Lots of shock in the department right now, Sir. The Kazon seemed to know how to hit us and where.'

"Alright. With us all assembled," Kodak began, "you should know that I've asked Commander t'Nai to lead this meeting. Department readiness is under her purview," he stressed, reminding the group that the half-Romulan would do the run-down not because Kodak was emotionally compromised but, instead, because it was officially her job. "However, as part of our State of the Sojo discussion, we'll also need to talk about the crew's injuries, our fatalities, and where everyones' at mentally. I understand you've got a report from Doctor Marwol as well as your own observations, Mr. Axod?" Said report would come when Emni asked for it but Kodak wanted to confirm it was available before they began in earnest.

Axod nodded curtly, his expression solemn as he slid a PADD across the table toward the Captain and First Officer. His usually composed demeanor bore subtle cracks—his red hair slightly tousled, the lines of his uniform not as crisply kept as usual. The exhaustion behind his violet eyes spoke of long hours and heavier burdens.

“We have a few confirmed fatalities,” he said, his voice steady but laced with the weight of the losses. He let the names linger in the air, giving them the space they deserved.

“Ensign Tor. Crewman Crispin. Crewman Garrett.”

Silence settled over the room, thick and unyielding, before Axod finally continued. “We’re still working through the injuries. By morning, I’ll have a firm number for you.”

He exhaled quietly, glancing at the faces around the table. There was nothing more to say that could lessen the impact of the news. But even as grief loomed over them, Axod straightened slightly in his chair, centering himself. There was still work to be done.

Bailey nodded once, her dark eyes set on the speaker. He was a fine looking man, but again she hardly knew anyone in the room at all. She blinked and looked back to the large bear of a man with yellow eyes, and the thin woman who looked Vulcanoid. "We also have prisoners." She added. Bailey had not yet sat down, as if it hadn't occurred to her.

There was a momentary pause, longer than it should have been as emotionally intensity roiled throughout the space. Even with the practiced shielding that Emni had long ago developed as part of managing patients in varying states of anxiety in Sickbay her empathic senses felt swamped. There was so much panic on the ship and not enough of it at a distance. Above it all was the almost keening alarm of the Captain's worry. It pitched like a wail above the milieu of grief and worry in the space.

But there was a hard edged determination too. A steel-like band that bolstered them all. And it was to that which Emni grounded herself.

"Good," she said, addressing the Security Chief and then inwardly scolding herself. "About the prisoners," she continued and then added. "Please sit Lieutenant Good. We may be here a while and there's no point in standing on ceremony for the moment." She hoped that the request sounded appreciative and inviting, but she suspected it just sounded tired.

Bailey looked at the chair and for a moment her expression of determined security broke. "Oh." She quickly dropped into the chair, hands clasped in her lap, more like the girl called into principal's office to 'discuss behavior' than anything else. He used her feet to rotate her chair slightly toward the person the Commander was about to address.

"I believe we all know the gist of things. Subrek has found us and he's taken seven of our crew. Some," here she glanced at Kodak, "seem like obvious targets considering that Subrek will have taken our support of Kaldri as a personal affront. She suspected she didn't have to specifically point out that the obvious target was Andrew. "Others," here she found herself thinking of the inexplicable cross section of officers less closely associated with Kaldri," are less clear. I'd like to hear the status reports from each of you first. We won't be able to help a single one of them if we're unable to help ourselves. But once we've identified next steps I would like to have a brief discussion on the crew taken with an eye toward identifying what weaknesses, perceived or real, Subrek may believe he is leveraging with each."

She looked around the table. "Mr. Qo, perhaps you could start?"

Axod folded his hands neatly on the surface of the table, his fingers interlacing in a controlled, deliberate manner. His expression remained measured, but there was a weight behind his words. "Generally, the crew is anxious," he admitted, his voice carrying the quiet gravity of someone who had spent time listening to their concerns. "They're trying to make sense of things—of the tension, the uncertainty."

He exhaled softly, his gaze drifting downward as his brows knit together in thought. His fingers tightened briefly before he made the conscious effort to relax them. "It's not just fear," he continued after a pause, his voice more introspective now. "It's the not knowing that gnaws at people. The waiting." His eyes flickered back up, searching for understanding.

That understanding could be found in the Captain's golden eyes, slitted like a cat's and bright in the dim lighting of the conference room. "There's a lot that makes no sense at all," Kodak pre-ambled, his shoulders tightening as he leaned forward to better regard the Counselor. "And a lot that does," came a quiet comment, perhaps more to the Captain himself than anyone else. Of course Subrek would take Andrew, too. But why the others?

"Assume the First Maje was targeting those seven specifically," Kodak looked to Emni, "I find myself wondering how he'd even know enough about our people to make those kinds of choices. Is it possible that, Kaldri and Andrew aside," the Chameloid's eyes flicked then to Good, "Subrek's people just took whoever else they encountered? Or are there indicators that they hunted down this group in particular?"

"Right now, its looking like a specifically targeting of our Kazon guest and Mr. Munro. The rest might be trophy captures." Good suggested.

As the question was directed to the security officer, Parsons stiffened in his seat, replying even though the inquiry hadn't been directed to him. "Iry and Noah might have been together. It would make sense, if one of the Kazon ran into them," the engineer followed one of a thousand different thought trails currently storming in his head, "that they'd be taken together too, I guess." Not that understanding the logic in anyway helped address the pain.

"I can look into it," Lieutenant Good stated toward the lanky engineer. She leaned forward and produced a PADD from her tactical vest. "Do they share living spaces? Are they a couple that this Subrek could pressure information by harming the other?" She asked, looking between the people in the know more than she. "Taking our Chief Helmswoman makes sense tactically. I'm not sure what the technical advantage of taking a systems specialist would have. He doesn't have access to important ship's systems at his authorization level." Bailey turned to look at the Captain and Commander. "But we should alter our shield and weapons prefix codes and reset their security authorization codes. Just in case."

"Agreed," Kodak nodded as Good laid out her suggestions. "Change them immediately. I would not be surprised," his throat tightened, "if they were tortured for their codes. Let's ensure Subrek can't use them."

Axod knew that time was critical, and yet his mind couldn't help but sift through the possibilities, searching for some thread of logic that could explain why the kidnapped crew had been targeted. He wasn’t one to dwell on hypotheticals when lives were at stake, but the nagging feeling in the back of his mind refused to be ignored. Was it random? Unlikely. There had to be a reason—some connection between the victims, something their captors saw in them specifically. His dark blue eyes narrowed as he ran through every report, every recent mission, every interpersonal link that might provide a clue.

His hands curled into fists atop the console. If he could just figure out why these people, why now?

A small line creased between Emni's Vulcanesque brows, matching the slight frown she wore as she both listened and took in the emotional tenor of those assembled. She undertstood the fear; the temptation to assume the worst type of betrayal. The loss of seven crew in such a way felt like one and it was natural to try to ascribe meaning to it. "Certainly I think that they sought out Kaldri," she said, speaking out loud the thoughts she bore. "And, perhaps, Andrew." Here she glanced to Kodak, eyes soft with sympathy for the man. "But even then how would they have known who he was? I realize that a great deal of damage is being repaired, but is there any evidence of someone accessing our crew complement at the moment they came aboard? There wasn't much time for what they accomplished. It would have had to be fast... but... I am hesitant to assume we have a spy amongst our crew. If we begin suspecting everyone now..." she trailed off, letting the thought linger.

“Trace reports show they did try to access information from our systems,” Parsons offered in immediate response. “They weren’t able to access or download anything, though. And,” he shook his head, thinking through possibilities, “they didn’t gain access with any of their own equipment, either. Unauthorized access from devices with a Kazon signature,” he explained, “would have lit up our security sensors like a Christmas tree.” Sheldon’s face fell fallow then, thoughts drifting to Iry learning all about Christmas recently. The knot in his chest tightened all the harder and he wondered if it would ever come undone.

Axod couldn’t help but notice the subtle shift in Sheldon’s demeanor—the way his gaze lost focus, drifting inward as if pulled momentarily into some private thought or distant memory. It was fleeting, just a breaths length of silence, but enough for Axod to register the flicker of something unspoken behind the other man's eyes.

As instructed, Good took up her PADD and leaned into the back of this strange and comfortable chair. Her impulse was to cross her knees- but that impulse also came with a glass of sipping alcohol. Diligently she zeroed in on each missing member of the crew. She zeroed out their access codes, deleted their voiceprint authenticators and then altered the ship's transponders and defense prefix codes. She was about to report she'd done so when-

“Wait,” Parsons suddenly spoke up again. The beginnings of an idea had obviously taken root as the engineer picked up his PADD and started stabbing at it with his long, dexterous fingers. As his eyes scanned the display, his posture grew more and more hunched forward, as if gravity itself were trying to pull him down into the device. “They may not have accessed our systems with unauthorized tech but if I’m right,” he trailed off, going quiet until he suddenly groaned, “yep. That confirms it,” he nod-sighed, lifting his gaze from the PADD, looking almost as defeated outside as he felt inside, "they did gain access."

“They used authorized Kazon tech.” Sensing the obvious need for explanation, Sheldon began to explain. “We didn’t think to check for that. I’m so sorry. That’s something we should have caught but absolutely didn’t,” he audibly groaned. "I mean, to be fair, it's kind of out there and we've been in a crisis but--"

“Mr. Parsons,” Kodak’s voice was firm but neutral, “there will be time for apologies and explanations" -- he did not use the word "excuses" -- "later. Right now, we need the full explanation, please.” The look he gave the young engineer was full of expectation tinged with, perhaps, just the slightest touch of frustration, impatience, or both.

Sheldon gulped. “Sorry, sir. Of course,” he nodded, realizing he’d stopped to apologize before actually explaining why he was doing so. “Kaldri’s shuttle. We set up a linkage while we were making repairs and analyzing her data on Subrek’s ship. Once Subrek's people came aboard," he built steam, his cadence quickening, “they used their own equipment to remotely link up with Kaldri’s shuttle and then accessed our link,” he almost growled, “to gather what intel they could.”

Anticipating the next question, Parsons shook his head and said, “The link with her shuttle was limited. Enough to access some general information about the ship and crew maybe but not,” he stiffened stringently, “anything more sensitive than that. Not without our security codes, which they didn't have. Which is good but we still should have caught that in our analysis after the attack."

Emni considered this news with lips pressed into a thin thoughtful line. She felt for Parsons, but also knew they were lucky to have him where he was. This wasn't the first time he'd been asked to step into a role above his current one and he'd performed just as well before. Not having all of the threads, including those that felt particularly random like connections into the Kazon shuttle squatting in their shuttle bay were to be expected.

"Would they have been able to access any locations?" Emni inquired calmly. She wondered at the bedside manner calm that she still relied so heavily upon even though she was no longer practicing medicine. It served its own purposes well beyond the confines of Sickbay.

"Generally? Yes?" came Parsons' response, sounding more like a question than a confirmation. "But only the most basic of information about important places on the ship," he amended. "Subrek's sensors probably got more vital intel than whatever they could access across the shuttle's link. At least," Sheldon gulped quite visibly, "in that regard."

Sensing that they were getting away from the purpose of the meeting Emni drew them back to the updates. They were unlikely to completely deduce the intentions of the boarding party at this stage without further investigation. "Mr. Qo, you have a report from Dr. Marwol as well which, I assume, includes details on the captured Kazon and the state of casualties? Could you share that next?"

Axod nodded, pushing a hand through his ginger hair as he straightened in his seat, adopting a more attentive posture. “From what I’ve gathered, the situation with our Kazon guest remains… delicate, to say the least. That is, it's a bit touch and go at the moment.” His voice carried a measured, solemn tone as he continued. “The medical teams are still addressing a number of injuries across the crew — most of them relatively minor, thankfully. Some sustained during the firefight, some in direct encounters with the Kazon.”

He exhaled quietly, a flicker of heaviness passing through his expression before he composed himself again. “It’s been a rough day for a lot of people.”

Bailey pushed on. Tired was tired and they still had a recovery operation. "With your permission sirs," she nodded to t'Nai and Kodak, "I need to reassign some Operations personnel. I know Engineering is down right now," she nodded at Sheldon, "But I've got a missing Chief and a few wounded deputies. And if we are going to launch a strike team," she looked at the people around her and leaned forward. Her brows knitted and she pushed her ear behind her ear, "A boarding party. I need people. Now do we have any scans of this... Subrek's... ship? The inside?"

"Not scans," Emni answered. She'd spent a few minutes refreshing her memory on the information they did have in preparation for this conference. "There's something about the ship's design... or its hull..." She frowned. "Our sensors can't seem to penetrate beyond the exterior shape of the vessel. At best our logs can tell us the general dimensions of their ship. We do have records from Kaldri's shuttle, though." Here she looked to Parsons to confirm. "These may be outdated, but the shuttle came from Subrek's ship, so it can't be too far behind." Here she looked to Parsons whom she hadn't yet called on for his full report. "Mr. Parsons could you add any additional detail here? I know we're putting you on the spot, but anything your team might have discovered even from just evaluating the shuttle could prove useful."

"Well," Sheldon flicked through the still glowing grid-lines hovering in front of him, "that shuttle definitely could be of some use. We obviously made preliminary scans when Noah--err," he veered back to professionalism, "Ensign Balsam negotiated a trade for it and brought the shuttle onboard. We could go back and see what else we can find. Maybe how else we could use it?" His thoughts were percolating like the coffee he wished he had right now. "Trojan horse boarding party on that shuttle maybe?" the engineer's eyes flicked to Good. "Assuming we have people, I mean..." he trailed off. He was about to say more when an irritated grunt stole his attention.

That irritated grunt wasn’t loud, but it cut through the conversation like a phaser on its lowest setting—just enough to sting, just enough to stop everything.

Kodak hadn’t moved much during the last exchange. He’d sat there still, hands once again pressed against the surface of the table as if trying to absorb some anchor from its solid weight. He’d counted his breaths. Watched the holo-grid flicker. Tried to focus on Emni’s voice. Good’s logistics. Parsons’ optimism.

Tried.

But now his nostrils flared with each shallow breath. His fingers curled inward, slowly retracting from the table’s edge until they were trembling fists in his lap. His jaw worked side to side, unspoken words grinding against the back of his teeth like they were waiting for permission to burst free. The Chameloid never gave permission as such but, with a sudden, deliberate motion, Kodak picked up the PADD he’d been barely touching and let it drop—not tossed, not thrown—just let it fall, the way one might let go of something toxic. It clattered to the table, sharp and final.

He looked up, golden eyes no longer distant but burning hot. “A Trojan horse?” he echoed, his voice thick, raspier than usual. “Is that where we’re at now, Parsons? Already spitballing dramatic rescue plans like this is a damn holonovel? Already planning some ridiculous outfit to wear for it, are we?”

Kodak leaned forward, every movement tight and deliberate. “You think we’re going to just...what? Roll up to the devil's front door in his own shuttle, like clever little cadets who had a good idea, and he’s going to what—invite us in for tea before giving back the people he stole from us?” His fists slammed the table then. “Do you know what kind of people he keeps on that ship? Do you know what he does to prisoners?”

Kodak's voice broke slightly, but he didn’t stop. “Because I do. Kaldri's told me all about it. Dr. Wang's seen the scars and badly healed fractures on her. Years of trauma. And now? Now that's going to happen to him. Happen to them," he half caught himself, remembering to include the other six people who weren't his partner. His breath hitched then. For a second, it looked like he might actually stop there. That he might have wrangled it all back inside somehow. But then his eyes flicked to Axod, and the words returned—acidic, unstoppable.

“Rough day?” He spat the words like they tasted foul. “That’s what you call this? A rough day is when someone forgets to file a readiness report. A rough day is the jukebox shorting out at Debbie's.” He stood, suddenly. Not with anger, but with the kind of force people stand up with when they have too much energy to sit still. “This,” he growled, voice low and cracking, “is screaming. This is blood on the walls and combadges in pieces and me still imagining his face when they pulled him away.” His voice cracked fully, a shattering thing. “So don’t you dare package this up like it's just a bad shift.”

He didn’t storm out. He didn’t apologize. He didn’t even look around the table to see the fallout. He just sat down. Hard. Shoulders rigid, breath coming fast, eyes fixed on a spot on the table that wasn’t there.

It was like watching a shuttle collision. Emni felt the swell the same way beach goers might notice a dramatic pulling back of the surf from the shore even though the tidal wave that will hit in mere minutes is still too far off to see. She felt it and she continued on, hoping that time and forward motion would give the Captain a chance to get himself under control. Kept on and then like so many who ignore the warnings of an incoming tidal wave, the crest of the wave broke over all of them.

Her instinct, first, was to put a hand on her friend's arm. She understood his feelings even as she felt her own frustration well up at his lack of control. It was one thing for her to know how tenuous the check on his emotions was.... entirely another for other senior crew, some where were standing in on behalf of more senior officers who were hurt, or gone... or maybe dead.

"Sir," she said in the low soothing tones someone might offer to an injured animal to soothe it so it didn't hurt itself further. "No one here is trying to understate the significance of what has happened." She turned her eyes to each of the three other officers present, feeling the blow of Kodak's words imprinted on their emotional signatures even as she felt her own desire to recoil as if slapped. And she had not been the target of his outburst. "We all want them back. All of them, sir. But there are more than 70 officers remaining onboard, including the yeoman pool and enlisted personnel." Her voice caught then, as the moment hit home afresh. "The ones we know are lost to us forever sir." She let that thought hang even as she wanted to say more. To say that Parsons had been right to start brainstorming solutions. That Qo was right to be careful with his characterization. That medical professionals were trained not to catastrophize. She wanted to point out that they still needed to discuss Good's request for more officers to support the rescue effort, not to mention the hands needed to repair the damage Subrek and his boarding party had wrecked.

She wanted to say all of those things and more.

And she said none of them.

Instead, she added, "Please sir. Let trust us to do our jobs."

Bailey had been caught flat-footed by the Captain's outburst and Parsons shrinking away from the verbal lash. She felt her feet had planted to push back out of some trained muscle memory to create distance from a threat situation. She was suddenly well aware of where her phaser was, and walked back that impulse to de-escalate herself. Her eyes turned to Parsons, then Qo, then t'Nai.

Her eyes stayed warm but she shifted in to the role of the warm demander, the negotiator. "Fighting among ourselves and angsting over individuals won't bring our people back." She looked at t'Nai and wondered if they were thinking the same thing: a commanding officer who is compromised by their emotions needed to be removed from duty until the acute crisis was passed. She looked at Qo. "We all know the regulations."

Qo studied Kodak intently, his eyes fixed on the captain’s face with quiet precision. There was no malice in his gaze, only the focused curiosity of a trained observer, someone trying to read beyond words, beyond posture. It was as if Ax were searching for something just beneath the surface, some flicker of unease or weariness that Kodak might be hiding behind his command bearing.

After a beat of silence, Ax’s posture shifted slightly, his back straightening. “Let’s take a moment,” he said, voice cool and even, yet edged with a note of gentle authority. “And bring ourselves back to the matter at hand.”

His tone was calm and deliberate. But behind it, there was a quiet question left unspoken: Are you alright, Captain?

Kodak didn’t look up. Not at t’Nai. Not at Good. Not at Axod. Not even at Parsons, who had gone completely still at the far side of the table, like a junior officer trying to disappear into his own chair.

The Captain’s breath came shallow and sharp at first, then slower, more deliberate. One. Two. Three. His hands had returned to the surface of the table, spread wide now, his palms pressing down like he was trying to hold the entire damn ship together with just his fingertips.

When he finally spoke, it came not in an apology, but in something heavier—something jagged-edged. “I know the regulations too,” Kodak rasped, the words directed at no one in particular and everyone at once. “I’ve quoted them before.” He didn't elaborate on when--or why--that had happened, just that it had.

He straightened slightly, but not much. Just enough to lift his chin and finally meet t’Nai’s gaze. His expression had softened—no longer a wildfire, but scorched earth after the burn. There was still heat behind his eyes, but it was the smoldering kind, quiet and dangerous in its own right. “You’re right, Emni. All of you are,” he admitted, his voice hoarse.

“This crew—what’s left of it—needs a captain. Not a partner. Not a mourner. Not someone lashing out because he’s too scared to admit how close he is to falling apart.” Kodak exhaled slowly, a bitter thing, and turned toward Parsons, his tone no longer sharp but still direct. “Sheldon... I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. You're doing your job. You’re doing it well.” His golden eyes swept briefly toward Good, then Qo. “All of you are.”

Another breath passed through him—controlled, grounded, as if testing his own stability before pressing forward. “But if we’re going to bring them home... then I need to be in this chair, and I need to be in it the right way.” He looked at t'Nai again—this time not with defiance, but something like surrender. “So if you think I can't be... say it. Don’t spare me.” He leaned back at last, the chair’s structure groaning beneath the sudden shift of weight. “But I’m not leaving this table unless someone removes me. Because I won’t abandon them. I won’t lose another second pretending I’m not exactly as furious and terrified as every other person on this ship.”

The Captain's voice steadied then, the tremor ironed out by sheer force of will. “So. Let's get back to work, eh?" The Chameloid's eyes looked less hollow than they had before, his gaze reflecting more than a little hope that these people would understand his position and offer grace...but also understanding that he was, to some degree, compromised and that? That was a legitimate concern for sure.

For Good, who did not know this man, but who had studied their files, the answer was a bit of a surprise. If Kodak could admit his compromise, then he was aware of it. Now that posited both a negative and a positive truth- he might hesitate, but he would not behave impulsively without thinking. At least according his record. "Let's get our people back. That's the focus." Bailey confirmed steadily. "And then let's fuck this guy up. As my grandmother used to say." She waved a hand, "Not specifically about the Kazon, but-" She waved it off again with a blink, "You understand."

Emni "watched" the emotional signatures of the other officers assembled; taking their temperatures to see how they might respond. She'd already made her decision on this front, confident in her own added understanding of Kodak that the empathic sense afforded her. He may not have been entirely emotionally steady--were any of them truly?--but he was capable of reason, still and she didn't think he was a danger to them or their lost colleagues. "I agree," she said simply, meeting the security officer's gaze. "We're all hurting in our own way on this and that's going to mean high emotions and a tense crew. The fastest possible way to help folks right now is to get our people back and neutralize the threat."

Her gaze slid to Kodak, then, staring pointedly until he met her gaze. "Sir, we trust you. Where do you want to start?"

Ax shook his head slowly...subtly. To anyone watching, the gesture might’ve seemed ambiguous, unreadable. It wasn’t defiance, nor dismissal. It was uncertainty wrapped in restraint. Something in the back of his mind tugged at him, a quiet instinct that whispered caution, even as he wanted—needed—to trust in the Captain’s leadership.

Bailey looked at Axod as if they were sharing a thought- and a hope. She nodded as if to lend him some nuance of support.

The silence that followed stretched just long enough to be noticed. Axod licked his lips, grounding himself in the present. His voice, when it came, was calm but resolute. “We’re all in this together, sir.” There was weight behind the words. A statement of solidarity, yes, but also a quiet plea: Let that be true.

"Lieutenant Parsons. You were saying you had a potential course of action. I... just had the security officer's engineering extension course when I was at the Academy. But if I can help... taking that shuttle apart for ideas... I'll make the time." Good reassured.

Kodak looked around the table, his eyes lingering a little longer on each face. The heat behind his earlier eruption had cooled, leaving only the ache beneath it—tension and worry and too many decisions still ahead. But the room hadn’t fractured. No one had recoiled. Instead, they’d let the moment pass with quiet professionalism, and for that, he owed them more than just composure.

“Thank you,” he said, voice low but clear. “To all of you. For your understanding. For holding this moment with me instead of against me.” He straightened, drawing a steadying breath. “Now. Yes, Mr. Parsons, let’s hear more about this Trojan Horse idea. What are our actual options here?”

Sheldon didn’t need to be asked twice. His fingers were already dancing across his PADD, pulling up schematics and preliminary readings. “So, we’ve got Kaldri’s shuttle. It's still technically Kazon tech, even if it's been retrofitted. Subrek would definitely recognize it if he looked too closely...or, you know, if he still holds a grudge about it getting stolen.”

He glanced at Kodak, then t’Nai, and continued. “We probably can’t land it without triggering alarms. But maybe we don’t need to land it. There’s a chance...maybe if we mask our signal variance, smooth over the refits, maybe even simulate damage? That we could get close," he stressed. "Maybe close enough to breach one of their bays or force a hull connection somehow." His eyes flicked to Bailey next. “Or failing that, close enough for transport—just one or two critical people. Or… things, maybe?"

Sheldon tapped something and the PADD chirped quietly. “It’s a long shot either way, but the shuttle’s got potential. Could be our best bet at punching a hole in their defenses...or at least slipping something past them." He paused then, letting the idea land. "We just...you know, need to find Subrek's ship first."

"We have a lot to do," Kodak nodded in approval to the plan. "So let's get to it then," he urged, more than a little pride and appreciation for his people evident in his voice.

They were going to get through this. Somehow...


=/\= A joint post by... =/\=

Captain Björn Kodak
Commanding Officer

Commander Emni t'Nai
Executive Officer

Lieutenant Bailey Good
Security Officer

Lieutenant Axod Qo
Chief Counselor

Lieutenant J.G. Parsons
Assistant Chief Engineer