Selection

Posted on Fri Jul 11th, 2025 @ 8:19pm by Index & Lieutenant Irynya

Mission: Mean Green Queen
Location: Shuttle Bay Control Room
Timeline: Mission Day 25 at 0600

[Shuttle Bay Control Room, Deck 4]
[MD 25, 0600]

The control room that looked out over the shuttle bay was the closest thing to an office Sojourner’s chief flight controller had. Or at least that was Irynya’s assessment. She’d never bothered to ask Timmoz where he had done his administrative work. Shift schedules and team evaluations and the like had always simply happened and she’d only ever done that sort of work parked on the couch in her old quarters when she was standing in as acting chief–usually posted up next to Noah and the surround of holographic workspace that he used.

Over the last few weeks she’d slowly claimed the control room, in quiet moments like this one, as her de facto office space. Any flight crew member on duty was, typically, down below going through the daily tasks associated with the care and maintenance of the shuttles and only really requiring the control room when there was an active need for a craft to arrive or leave from the Sojourner’s berths.

“Morning.” The quiet greeting was offered up by Crewman Tolbert who, as it turned out, was on duty at the time that Irynya arrived to stake out a claim to the control room.

“Morning Ariadne,” Iry said, offering the taller ginger haired woman a tired half smile and a nod of acknowledgement.

The disparity between the two was notable. Ariadne, though the crew rotation list indicated that she was in the last two hours of her shift, seemed wide awake and almost chipper. Irynya, on the other hand, bore signs of a poor night’s sleep. No one would have dared claim that she had bags under her eyes, but there was a distinctive slightly bruised look that gave her away.

Tolbert seemed ready to say something more, mouth open as she stood poised at the control room door.

“Yes?” Irynya asked, trying to sound more awake and welcoming than she felt. “Something I can help with?”

There was a pregnant moment and then Tolbert closed her mouth and shook her head. “No, ma’am.” And then she was gone.

Iry sighed, only half wondering what that might have been about. She’d been particularly terrible company at the party two nights ago and so perhaps it was that. Or maybe Bryad had asked Tolbert to take another stab at convincing her of his desirability for the Assistant Chief’s position. Whatever it was, Iry shrugged it off and settled into one of the seats, taking a swig from her coffee and sighing as the warm liquid made its way down her throat. She could almost imagine the slow unfurling of her synapses as the caffeine in the drink took effect.

With the control room emptied of others Iry felt comfortable doing her work verbally rather than pulling up an interface to engage with. She shifted, propping one booted foot on her knee and shimmied, alleviating a tiny bit of back ache that had come from tossing and turning. “Computer,” she said, feeling as much as hearing the familiar chime of acknowledgement. “Show me the dossiers, side by side, for Ensign Davis Bryad, Ensign Sohlare, and Ensign Asmar Veshun,” she requested, waiting for the holographic interface to display what she wanted. “And set control room windows to opaque,” she added as an afterthought.

She didn’t think Tolbert would be trying to see what she was doing, but then again… she had been on Bryad’s arm at the party. An echo of a memory of conversation flitted through her mental space, reminding her that she had, without thinking, inquired if Noah thought Tolbert was competition to him. Why had she said that? Of all things. It was a question she’d asked herself several times since then and one she still didn’t feel like she could fully answer. With alarming clarity, Marteli’s “knowing” look also flashed across her memory.

Her lips pursed and, as if it knew she needed saving from her own thoughts, the computer chirped prompting her with the information it had already displayed.

Skimming, Irynya reread the dossiers for each and sighed. There was plenty of support for any one of the three to be the next assistant chief. She’d already ruled out a fourth mostly based on seniority and experience. These three, though, were all as different as they came while still each bearing the main experience requirements. What it came down to, she suspected, was personality, and that felt less comfortable to her than being able to make a recommendation purely on their individual merits. For the millionth time she wished she could ask Timmoz what he thought.

“Computer…” again, the chime of confirmation, “give me the last three performance evaluations for all three officers."

The information in question appeared before her in collated holographic copies displayed side by side. She'd looked at this exact piece before and yet somehow she felt like there must be some way in which she could eke out some new advantage for one of them. With a deep sigh she swiped the interface, closing the files she'd only just opened.

"There has to be something..." she mumbled against the rim of her coffee mug before taking a big draught of the warm liquid. leaning back in her seat she cupped the mug and craned her neck back to stare at the ceiling.

She wished she could bounce ideas off of Noah. He had a way of helping her see her thoughts from a different angle that always helped. But this was just not something she could ask him to help with. Besides, she hadn't seen him since the party the other night and there was still some kind of lingering thing in her head.

With a start she sat forward, eyes widening with the beginnings of an idea. She may not be able to talk to Noah, but maybe... just maybe... something he had created could help.

"Index?" she said, uncertainly, before getting her own bearings. "Computer," she called, continuing over the chime. "Display Index."

Before and slightly to the right of the lithe Risian there phased a being at the computer affirmative chirp. They stood as tall as Irynya, dressed in what only could be described as some form of conservative clothing. The collar was high and almost vicar-like. The smock was a silvery gray and had the vibe of something akin to nurse, nanny or governess's attire. Their hands were clasped in front of their lap. Intelligent, light blue eyes gazed out from a pale and androgynous face. The hair was what Humans called "towheaded"- white- and was shorn close to the scalp.

They blinked and turned to Irynya. "Lieutenant Irynya." They looked down as if scanning invisible text below their gaze. "This is your first log on to the Ayah Index Experiment." Index blinked again and looked at Irynya with an unusual- if still somewhat nurse-like- warmth. "I can provide haptic visual interfaces upon request. How may I be of assistance to you?" In a very Noah like way, Index blinked and just slightly tilted their head to an angle.

Although Iry had been around Index before--Noah had used the program in front of her on a number of occasions--she'd never engaged with it... them... on her own before. "Umm...." she began, stammering slightly, "I need someone to talk through a personnel decision with without talking to anyone else on the crew." Her eyebrows raised slightly at the hologram. "Is that, umm... something I can do with you?"

Index blinked. "I am capable of analysis and advice based on available data profiles, psychological readiness reports and personnel history from Starfleet Command Active Resource Archives. My last upload from the SC-ARA was three weeks, two days, twenty one hours ago." She blinked and continued, "However, formal recommendations for personnel promotions or position changes are currently beyond my programming and my security access level."

Index blinked and tilted her head. "That was a joke." She deadpanned.

Iry blinked back, unprepared for Index to attempt humor. And then she cracked a small, belated, smile before diving in to her request. "I'm trying to decide who I would like to take the position of Assistant Chief Flight Controller. I've got 3 candidates and I feel like I've looked at each of them so many times now that they're starting to blur together. They're each qualified for different reasons. I just... I need a different angle so I can make a decision," the Risian explained adding, as an afterthought, "I'd, uh, talk to Noah, but it's really something I should be doing myself." She didn't know if Index would think of Noah as anything beyond another individual logging into their program, but it felt right to mention him.

"I do not believe Noah Balsam has achieved the requisite rank and security codes to make such recommendations officially either." Index double blinked. "Please indicate the three personnel you wish to commence evaluation of." And before Index appeared three amber yellow holographic interfaces- three plain translucent rectangles like hovering databoards. "Do you wish to include a basic rubric according to Starfleet Personnel Code of Conduct and minimal certifications as a Control for this role?"

"Uh, right, yeah," she agreed more to the comment about Noah than anything. "Might as well start with the basic rubrics and quals. I'm considering Ensigns Bryad, Sohlare, and Veshun. Each would not only be moved into the position, but would receive a rank bump so seniority should also be factored into our equation." An image of Bryad, arm looped through Noah's, flashed across her minds eye and she couldn't help wondering what on earth he'd talk to... at... Noah about. The flyboys always had a way of grand standing in front of others and Bryad was probably the most intense when it came to demonstrating his prowess. She imagined he could turn just about anything into a contest--even if was something as ridiculous as who got the most sleep before their shift.

In turn, each candidate's record appeared in the amber scope of Index's data rubrik. Lines, dots, data began to fill the graph next to each image of the candidate's profile. "Ensign Bryad, Ensign Sohlare and Ensign Veshun. "Ensign Bryad has the least number of hours to qualify for starship-scale certification. However, they have exemplary proficiency and demonstrated an above average capability of enduring stress when in danger and has a higher eye-hand coordination test than Ensign Sohlare. Ensign Bryad's character profile suggests an extroverted and active personality that potential builds and supports department cohesion. Of note however, is one demerit at the Academy in his third year for brawling."

"He's very proud of that demerit," Irynya muttered more to herself than to Index though the hologram picked it up anyway and there was a minor shift in the information. Iry's lips quirked into a half smile. "Bryad has a way of inserting himself into things and assuming you are ok with what he thinks. It's not that he's unwelcome, per se," she explained to the waiting monochromatic program, "more that he seems unaware when he oversteps. Or maybe doesn't care. I'm honestly not sure which. Does he have any complaints or old evaluations that?" She scanned the image of Bryad's face, posed in a perfectly coifed flyboy look complete with winning smile. She could practically see the shine of his teeth. "I'm concerned that I may be a bit biased in my evaluation of him," she added.

"If so, this would be questionable psychological traits for a potential assistant department head, according to standard Starfleet protocols." Index blinked almost in a mathematically precise moment. "But my emotional heuristics subroutines suggest that you would prefer a different officer." Index looked down. "Negative. He does not have any such data based on all available public records and duty logs."

Irynya sighed heavily, cheeks puffing as she forced the air out through her lips. "Your subroutines are correct. He's not my favorite person to work with. But he's not a bad pilot either. I can't rule him out just because I think he's a little brash and sometimes unintentionally rude. But I don't want to butt heads with him constantly either." Much of this was delivered in a half thoughtful tone, as if the Risian were working the problem out as she spoke. "He hasn't had any complaints so it could just be our personalities... clash." She wrinkled her nose at this. It was a truism, even on Risa where the mentality was one of openness to all, that not everyone was going to like everyone else. "Ok, let's move on.

Index blinked and with a gesture, the Trill, Sohlare, took center. "Sohlare is a Joined Trill with three previous lifetimes. One of the previous hosts augments Sohlare's piloting skill, particularly in navigation of difficult spatial geometry and impulse-speed maneuvers. Strengths include four-dimensional thinking, calmness. They are ranked as highly skilled and have more hours of piloting. However, their training in department management is quite limited."

"Can you tell me more about Sohlare's previous host that augments his skill? How long ago was this host?" She eyed the Trill thoughtfully as well. His eyes were a dark brown that matched the shade of the brown spots that traveled from his crown down the side of his neck. "And does he have any informal leadership experience? Clubs? Stuff like that?"

"Ensign Sohlare does not have such experience." Index's eyes seemed to buzz white for a moment of reviewing records. "Palto Sohlare, second host. Was ninety four years two hundred two days from current date. A dedicated test pilot, primarily of warp vessels for the Trill Symbiosis Defense Forces. However they moved into a safer role within the Symbiosis Commission twelve years after gaining the Sohlare symbiont."

"No clubs," Iry muttered to herself. "What on earth does he do with his free time?" She shook her head and peered back at the Trill as if she could somehow stare into his combined self and eek out the information she was looking for. "I really ought to make an effort to get to know him better," she commented, this time to Index. "We've just often been on opposite shifts. Hard to know someone well when you're just waving to each other as you change shifts. I probably should be putting together some sort of pilots meal or something. Team building. I don't know. Holodeck speeder racing?"

Reaching up she scratched at an itch along her hairline with one well manicured finger and then turned to pace. "Sorry," she said. "I'm getting off topic. Is there anything in Sohlare's record that indicates an interest in, or psychological profile for, leadership and management?"

Index spoke plainly. "None on record. Would you like me to send an inquiry to him?"

The Risian shook her head, dark ponytail tugging slightly at the motion. "No," she added. "I can only imagine how he'd take that question. Let's move on." To Veshun she added in her head. She sighed and waited for Index's commentary.

"Understood." Index blinked in an artificially precise away. "Would you like to examine Ensign Veshun? A recent arrival. In the words of his Starfleet recruiter, he has had a colorful background."

At this Irynya cringed slightly. That phrase had stood out to her the first time she read his dossier as well. "Yes," she said pulling the side of her cheek between her teeth and screwing her lips to the side as if this facial expression somehow made Veshun easier for her to parse. "Go ahead with the same matrix for Veshun."

She watched as Index underwent the same motions it had taken to swap from Bryad to Sohlare. The Majalan man's face loomed to the forefront, a mop of curly brown hair, not long, by any means, but long enough that the curls seemed to corkscrew over his forehead. He wasn't as tan as she was, but his complexion held an olive tone that seemed to highlight dark lines of his eyebrows and the dark brown, near black of his eyes. She chewed at the inside of her cheek again, shaking away the ghost of an image in the back of her head. Noah's eyes were dark like that too. But where Noah's eyes were kind, and warm, and deeply intelligent, Veshun's seemed as if they had seen more than the man's age would suggest he should have.

Or maybe she was reading too much into eyes with Noah's gaze somehow stubbornly lingering in the back of her mind. Had he held her eye contact just a little longer at the party the other night or was that just some part of her brain looking for context that wasn't there?

She sighed, blinked, and realized that Index had been speaking and she'd heard none of it. "I'm sorry," she said, cutting the infolife off. "Could you start that over. I spaced out."

"Of course" the soothing and soft voice of Index replied. Her gestures were virtually the same as she re-presented the bullet points of Veshun's qualifications- and his weaknesses. "... Boarded on Stardate..." Index came in and out of attention. "Prior to passing through the Barzan anomaly... he served with Lieutenant Timmoz as night shift Helmsman and occasionally as a shuttle pilot for various crew and supply runs between Sojourner and Pathfinder Station..."

Her form was bland, androgynous and yet inoffensive. Her clothes- layered silver and white in Vulcanesque robes- moved with exquisite holo-rendering. Her gestures were almost elvishly graceful. At times one could pick out where Noah must have pulled inspiration: Vulcan logic and restrained movements here, but then Bajoran Vedek calm and patience there.

"He has notable brushes with authorities from before his time on Earth, as well as during Academy. His psychological profile suggests Ensign Veshun is a free thinker, with talent in piloting and some knowledge of relevant engineering protocols. Lieutenant Timmoz stated in one of his performance reviews that Ensign Veshun prefers to function with a degree of initiative built in to any role, and that trusting skill is more important than a strict adherence to protocol. However, his Starfleet Academy Proctor directly countermands this opinion..."

This was the problem she kept coming up against with Veshun. His reviews were inconsistent with some praising his skill and others cautioning against the initiative that Index had mentioned. Irynya pushed a long hissing breath out between her nearly closed lips making her cheeks puff as she did. "So he struggles with leaders. Has anyone done a profile on his own leadership prospective?" She asked the question feeling a sort of frustrated knot of indecision as she did. It seemed unlikely, at this point, that Index would offer up an evaluation she hadn't already read. There had been no surprises thus far, just the same information presented from a different voice. She was glad for that, but if anything it merely confirmed that she'd done her due diligence already.

Index blinked in perfectly timed synchronicity. "Negative." She steepled her holographic fingers, in an outward fashion. "Starfleet Directory of Field Operations states that in the event a Chief or Assistant Chief position goes unfilled, a temporary period of probationary elevation, lasting no longer than twenty standard rotations, can be used to test a candidate's suitability, with a standing senior officer as proctor."

Irynya bit the inside of her cheek, eyeing Index as if the infolife's body language would tell her more than the words said. It was a stalling tactic more than anything. A probationary period made sense. But she could only do it if she was relatively sure of her choice. If the probationary period didn't work... She puffed another heavy sigh through her lips sending the air out in a loud rush. It was a risk, but it still seemed like the best course of action.

"You're right," she finally replied. "That is a card I haven't played yet. I'm just worried about how the other two will respond if they know I've got Veshun in a probationary period. Bryad's so competitive... and Sohlare... I mean I don't think he'd do anything rash, but..." She realized she was thinking out loud. Thinking out loud to Index, for that matter, who wasn't Noah and wouldn't give her the familiar physical cues that she could so easily understand from him. When had she begun untangling her own thoughts with Noah's body language? She blinked.

"Ok," she finally said coming to a decision. "Thank you Index. I think I can take it from here."

The holographic androgyne tilted its head down in a nod. Her alabasterness and silvery tunic disappeared in waving fade of re-focusing light.

Once the androgynous silver-gray form of Index had disappeared, Irynya returned to her seat and leaned back, putting booted feet up to the side of the console. She laced her fingers behind her head and spoke to the air.

"Computer," she said. "Where can I find Ensign Veshun?"

-----

A post by:

Lieutenant Irynya
Chief Flight Controller

Index (played by Kyle)