ExO Reporting

Posted on Sat Oct 31st, 2026 @ 9:26pm by Commander Nith & Captain James Phoenix

2,004 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: Frozen Acquisition
Location: Captains Ready Room
Timeline: current
Tags: Captain Phoenix,

Nith exited Quark’s, the weight of the data rods a cool, dense presence in her satchel. She moved with Vulcan economy, her tall, slender form cutting a stark silhouette against the promenade’s chaotic glow. Her short, spiked black hair was unmoved by the station’s recycled air; her pale features remained impassive. The holosuite programs were a trivial acquisition, their conversion to isolinear chips a logical next step.

The airlock was now open, its status indicator a steady green. The Chief was, predictably, absent and likely off-duty. She located the secured maintenance panel he had indicated. With a soft hiss, it slid open to reveal her personal bag stowed within. She retrieved it, sealed the panel, and placed the bag atop the airlock console. Opening it, she transferred the data rods and the converter into the cushioned interior before slinging the strap over her shoulder.

Stepping through the airlock was a transition between eras. The tether gave way to the USS Horizon’s main docking corridor, and the change was immediate. The air lost the metallic tang of Deep Space Nine, replaced by the clean scent of new carpet and polymer much like a smell of ozone and wool. The aesthetic was a deliberate callback to Starfleet’s mid-24th century designs: muted earth tones, textured bulkheads, and soft, indirect lighting. It was a nostalgic echo of the Galaxy-class starships of her academy textbooks, yet undeniably new. Fashions are cyclical, she recalled an instructor remarking. Illogical, yet empirically verified.

Crewmembers in fresh uniforms nodded as she passed in a respectful dip of the chin from an Andorian ensign, a brief smile from a human lieutenant. She acknowledged each with a slight, precise inclination of her head. This was her new command. Their recognition felt… orderly.

She bypassed her new quarters on Deck 8 entirely, the turbolift depositing her only long enough to discard her satchel just inside the doorway. The doors hissed shut and locked behind her as she continued toward the bridge. She re-entered the turbolift, her voice calm as she stated, “Bridge.”

The doors parted onto the command center. Her dark eyes took in the scene with swift efficiency: an Andorian officer standing watch near the helm, a human bent over a science console running diagnostics. Both straightened to attention at her arrival. She acknowledged them with the barest dip of her chin as she descended the ramp, her tall, slender form moving with Vulcan precision. The door to the Captain’s Ready Room slid open without a chime.

She stepped inside and came to a halt before the desk, posture rigidly correct.

“Captain Phoenix. Commander Nith, reporting as your Executive Officer, sir.” Her tone was even, carrying the cool reverence expected of her heritage.

James stood up from his desk and extended a hand with a professional smile. "Welcome aboard Commander. I hope your transfer didn't cause you too many issues? I apologize for it being so sudden, but I needed you right away."

“The timing of your request was fortuitous, Captain. I had already submitted my transfer application prior to its receipt. My three-year assignment under a Vulcan commanding officer, while instructive in matters of efficiency, provided limited opportunity for cross-cultural immersion. This posting presents a more favorable alignment with my objectives.” Nith maintained her stance, hands clasped behind her back in a posture of disciplined readiness. “The USS Soval’s executive officer duties have been transferred to my successor. I am prepared to assume my responsibilities aboard Horizon.”

Her dark eyes performed a swift, analytical pass over the Captain’s form, a characteristically Vulcan assessment devoid of emotional inflection.

“I have reviewed the preliminary logs concerning the outpost’s silence. The data appears incomplete. I am curious to learn the full scope of our mission parameters. Are there supplementary briefings to which I should now be granted access, or is our current intelligence indeed so limited?”

"The data you have is pretty much the same as ours. Barrow Station was an outpost on ICE-II under the command of the Corps of Engineers. She held experiment craft as well as plans for said craft, as well as other technology as well. She has been abandoned since the war ended. She was due to be shut down completely. The crew transferred but the order to transfer the facilities equipment and records was put on hold. Our orders are to find out why and salvage anything we can, including the plans for any of the equipment" James began before moving over to the replicator.

"The planet is located near near border with the Ferengi. It appears that it has gone undetected but we can't discount the possibility that the Grand Nagus has his eyes on it. The financial gain of such equipment would prove beneficial to him and the rest of the Ferengi" he added. "Care for a drink?"

Nith rounded the chair with a fluid, economical grace, her movements precise and devoid of superfluous motion. She paused, her slender form angled toward the replicator, one tapered finger indicating it with a minimal gesture. “The replicator produces an acceptable Blanton’s Single Barrel Bourbon,” she stated, her voice even. “Most humanoids find it agreeable.” She took her seat, back straight, hands resting on her knees.

She accepted the glass without looking at it, her attention on the holographic PaDD materializing before her. “Should you ever host members of my family,” she continued, her tone detached, “I would consider it a test of trust that they remain unaware of my... recreational indulgence in neurotoxins.”

Her fingers moved swiftly over the holographic interface, pulling up star charts. “The Ferengi vessel *Illustrious*,” she noted. Her eyebrow lifted by precisely two millimeters; a significant lapse in control. She took a measured sip, the glass making no sound as she set it on the desk’s edge.

“Deep space scans indicate it has maintained orbit for...” A faint tension appeared along her jawline. “...one hundred seventy-three standard days.” Her arm swept through the hologram, dismissing it with a sharp, clean motion so she could fix the captain with a level gaze. “It is logical to conclude the away team did not return. Given planetary conditions, probability of survival is point-zero-three percent. Their misfortune provides useful data: we will exercise caution. It is preferable they fell victim to recklessness rather than an active defensive system or indigenous life form.”

Phoenix looked puzzled. "Why would the probability of survival go down in 20 years on an M-Class world?"

Nith’s eyebrow arched in a moment of silent reproof. She allowed the pause to stretch, a precise interval for processing. With economical grace, she transferred the planetary scans from the holographic display to a physical PaDD and slid it across the desk.

“My statement was not in reference to planetary habitability,” she began, her voice cool and even as polished duranium. “I referred to the crew of the Ferengi vessel *Illustrious*, which has maintained orbit for one hundred seventy-three standard days without deviation or communication. The probability of survival for any landing party diminishes to point-zero-three percent after such duration on an ice-locked world.”

She leaned forward, the severe lines of her uniform emphasizing a frame both elegant and spare, devoid of unnecessary curves. Her finger, pale and tapered, tapped the PaDD once. “The ship operates on autopilot. No subspace transmissions have been detected. They did not return.”

She settled back into her chair, crossing one ankle over her knee in a deliberate approximation of human informality. The posture was studied, a performance meant to signal collaboration rather than correction. It was not about ego; it was about alignment. Illogical assumptions could not be permitted to stand, but neither should the chain of command be undermined by perceived arrogance. Nith’s intent was made clear that she wished for the both of them to operate from the same set of facts.

"Right, my mistake Commander" James began. "Seems we'll need to keep caution when we go down there. That'll be part of our investigation" he sat down and leaned back. "Do your intel reports have a number on the Illustrious' crew complement?"

Nith inclined her head a precise degree to the left, a gesture of consideration. “I must confess, Captain, my arrival aboard this vessel was recent. I have not yet convened with the department heads. This task is the first item on my list of immediate priorities.” Her hands remained folded in her lap, utterly still. “Our Intelligence Officer appears capable. He was temporarily assigned to Deep Space Operations and achieved the arrest of an employee of Quark’s Bar, for theft and attempted blackmail within five minutes of my arrival. The only impediment to consulting him at this time is the Emergency Medical Hologram’s insistence on conducting my physical examination. It would be logical for you to intervene so that I may attend to more critical duties.”

Nith pulled the PaDD Back and accessed her communications log which had been backing up since she arrived in the ready room.

**Personal PaDD - Incoming Messages** **From:** Dr. Nina, USS Horizon Sickbay

**Message 1** Hey Commander. Boarding physical. You’re required to complete this. Swing by when you can. -Nina

**Message 2** Okay, it’s been three minutes since you walked over from DS9. I know you’re busy being the most efficient officer on the ship, but I need fifteen minutes. That’s it. -Nina

**Message 3** Look, I’m going to be direct. I’ve reviewed your file. You’re approaching Pon Farr territory and you haven’t been in for baseline readings. I can’t help you if you don’t let me check. This is a safety issue. -Nina

**Message 4** I’m not above petty tactics. I’ve sent a courtesy copy of your overdue status to the Captain. You have 12 hours before I escalate to a formal duty restriction. Don’t make me do that. -Nina


Nith turned her head toward the captain with the deliberate slowness of a planetary rotation. Her features remained as impassive as polished obsidian, yet a subtle tension gathered at the corners of her eyes—the only indication of internal processing. She maintained optic contact for a moment too long, the duration required for most humanoids to register a deliberate social cue.

“Captain. This unit’s communications suggest a deviation from standard Emergency Medical Hologram protocols.” Her voice carried the even cadence of a diagnostic report. “The EMH framework typically employs more structured parameters for personnel reminders. These communications demonstrate an... unusual level of persistence.”

She settled back into her chair, aligning her spine with mathematical precision against the support structure. “It would be logically consistent for you to inform the program that I will submit to examination within the stipulated twelve-hour period. This compromise allows for completion of priority duties while acknowledging its... enthusiastic interpretation of medical protocols.”

A barely perceptible quiver traveled through her right eyebrow, lasting a fraction of a second before being suppressed. Her lips remained a neutral line, though the muscle along her jawline exhibited minute rhythmic contractions consistent with suppressed irregularities in other species. She gave a single curt nod, the motion perfectly vertical, as if confirming some internal calculation about the absurdity of the holograms' stubbornness… and her own.

"I'll take that as a no" James quipped in regards to his question not having an answer. "The EMH was modified by a former CMO of the Horizon. I think they were inspired by the The Doctor from Voyager when she was stranded" he chuckled.

James added, "But I won't keep you waiting. This all can be discussed further once we have a staff meeting when we're underway. Any questions Commander?"

“I will provide that answer once a sufficient volume of data has been processed to permit a logical extrapolation of events from the sensor logs,” Nith stated, rising with the fluid economy of motion characteristic of her species. She inclined her head in a minimal, precise bow. “I shall attend the briefing, Captain.”

 

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