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| - A small group of officers gathered in the briefing room the next morning. Captain Quinton settled into his chair by the bank of windows lining one wall of the room. “All right, I'm sure we've all had a chance to look at our orders, but you want to give us an refresher on the mission, Lieutenant Gerard? Tolly Gerard rose from his seat at the conference table and stepped over to the computer screen mounted on the wall. A few taps retrieved the Pioneer's flight plan. “Well, you all know we're currently en route to Sector 347 here in the Beta Quadrant. We've got what will likely be about two months of geological surveys there.” Gerard zoomed in on a portion of the map. “We'll be starting with the Erissa system on the edge of the sector. Our first stop is Erissa IV.” Another tap pulled up a close up of the planet, with the relevant statistics listed on the right side of the screen. “Now, past planetary scans indicate we might have a bit of a problem with radiation interference when we're beaming down. I would recommend taking a pattern enhancer to help the transporter techs lock on to our life signs. Other than that, it should be pretty much by the book.” Quinton nodded. “How big is your team?” “I have five, plus myself: two planetary geologists, a geochemist, a geophysicist, and a cartographer. That should be adequate, though if we find anything really interesting, we may have to get some more people down there.” “Excellent.” Quinton swiveled his chair and glanced at the Bolian woman seated to his right. “What kind of security detail were you intending, Lieutenant Lyron?” Haria Lyron looked up from her PADD. “I also have a total of six, with myself. I have the list here.” “I see. That seems rather excessive.” “I don't think so. We don't have a lot of intelligence from this sector, so we don't really know what we'll be facing. Who knows what we'll find when we beam down? We'd be foolish not to prepare ourselves.” Gerard laid his palms on the edge of the table and leaned forward toward her. “Are you suggesting there might be hostile aliens there? Erissa IV doesn't natively support anything close to sentient life, has never been inhabited by anything of the sort, and there is absolutely no evidence of any visits or interest from any known species. Caution is one thing, but a simple, peaceful science mission doesn't need to be... debased by needless aggression.” Lyron's face wrinkled in indignation. “Aggression? This is about caution for a good reason. There are hostile factions whose territory ends not too far away from this sector.” “Yes, and not too close by either.” Gerard swiped back the fringe of brown hair that had swung forward over his forehead during his outburst. “I need to be able to construct a decent perimeter for the safety of your team.” Quinton leaned forward in his seat at the head of the table. “All right, stand down, both of you. Gerard, have a seat, please. You're making me nervous. Now, Lyron, I understand your perspective here, but I truly don't think this requires the numbers you're talking about. I've looked over the intelligence we do have and there's nothing terribly threatening there. Long range scans haven't turned up any life signs or odd readings. It's not likely that there's anyone on the planet now, and the Pioneer can outclass any ships that are likely to happen by the area.” Franklin Xavier, until now looking on with quiet interest, cleared his throat. “Captain, if I may? I would tend to agree with Lieutenant Lyron. In an uncertain situation, extra caution is warranted.” Quinton sighed. “Noted, Commander. That is quite true, but I don't see any reason to match, much less exceed the numbers of the science team in this case. I will defer to your good judgment here, Lieutenant Lyron, but let's make a compromise.” She nodded slowly. “Five, then.” “How about four?” Lyron frowned. “Sir... four will do.” “Splendid. Any other problems? Comments?” He gazed at the three officers in turn. “Fine. Assuming there are no problems and we arrive on schedule, let's assemble the away team at eight hundred hours tomorrow morning. Dismissed.” Lyron and Gerard eyed each other as they stood. She moved around the rounded end of the table first, so he yielded and trailed after her through the doorway. Xavier lingered behind. He watched them both leave before he turned his attention back to the Captain. “You have something else to say, Franklin?” “Not much, sir. But I'm a little worried about that.” “They just got a little excited. They'll get over it and I doubt we'll have to deal with this again at our next stop.” “Probably not. Still, I'll keep an eye on them tomorrow.” Quinton smothered a laugh. “Don't babysit them, please.” Xavier's expression belied a hint of amusement. “Certainly not.” He paused. “Have you eaten yet?” “No, I was planning on getting something after the meeting. Care to join me?” The other man stretched leisurely as he pushed his chair back from the table. “Of course,” replied Xavier, before following him out into the hallway. Robert Dalton smoothed out the napkins and gently laid the two sets of cutlery on top. He stepped back to scrutinize them. One was slightly crooked and he stepped forward again to align the wayward napkin with the edge of the tabletop. Finally satisfied, he turned his attention to the rest of the room. It was almost entirely the same as it had been on his first day aboard the Pioneer. There was a small amount the usual clutter: strewn on the low table by the couch were a few PADDs for his daily schedule and his current cases and tasks, next to the medical tricorder he kept handy in case he should be summoned for some emergency in the middle of the night. Basic medkits were standard across the ship for just such situations, but Dalton preferred to use his own whenever possible. It was perfectly configured to his specifications. There was a box of mementos tucked unobtrusively onto one of the lower shelves on the wall to his right, but most of the shelves and alcoves that dotted the walls were empty. Everything was standard issue, down to the metallic box on the shelf, formerly home to some piece of equipment he couldn't remember now. He thought about Tricia's quarters and its riot of color and texture. Not yet two weeks onboard and already her space had far more character than his after a whole year. But his quarters on the Gibson had been beautiful. Filled with odd souvenirs, with Cerys and Rob's artwork tacked up on the walls alongside Claire's photographs. Claire.... Dalton pushed the thought away and stalked off across the room to the replicator. “Computer, I need flowers. A small bouquet in a vase. Irises, perhaps.” The computer beeped at him reproachfully. “What color?” “Oh... violet, I suppose.” The flowers, perfect in form and arrangement in a curved glass vase, materialized in front of him. Dalton gingerly scooped them up and placed them in the center of the table. As he centered them, the door chime sounded. “Come in.” The doors parted, and Tricia Jensen stepped through. The scarf she had been toying with in her quarters earlier hung around her shoulders. It was brightly patterned in shades of blue and green and set off the form fitting blue dress underneath. She smoothed out a wrinkle in the skirt and smiled at him. Dalton suddenly felt self-conscious in his plain brown trousers and drab, loose-fitting gray shirt. They were two of the few pieces of off-duty clothing he had. He wore his uniform most of the time, even when sitting in his quarters. He rarely socialized and had little inclination to take leave or vacations. “You look lovely,” he told her. Tricia beamed at him. “I still haven't gone through all my crates yet – though I'm running out of room, even now – but I did find these, which I rather like. Actually, they're some of my favorites.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Thank you.” “Please, sit. Make yourself comfortable.” She pulled out one of the chairs at the dining table. “I like the flowers. Very pretty.” “Thank you.” Dalton pressed a few buttons on the replicator panel and carried the two bowls that appeared over to the table. “What would you like to drink?” “Just some water for right now.” Jensen leaned forward and inhaled deeply. “Smells good. What kind of soup?” “Wild mushroom soup,” called Dalton from the replicator. “To start.” “Sounds like you have quite the evening planned.” “I promised you dinner and I don't do things in half-measures.” “Oh, I've realized that by now,” she said with a smirk. Dalton gazed at her as he returned to the table again with two glasses and took his seat across from her. “That was a compliment.” “Ah,” he replied. Jensen looked away from him and glanced around the room. “Your quarters are very nice. A bit spartan, though.” He took a sip of the soup. “Yes. I'm afraid I'm not very creative in that area.” “It doesn't matter if it suits you this way.” “I suppose it does. It's not as cheerful as yours, though.” She grinned. “That's the second time today you've complimented my interior decorating. I think you might be trying to flatter me, Doctor.” “Call me Bob.” “Okay. I wouldn't have figured you for a 'Bob'.” “Why not?” She tilted her head. “You seem a little too serious for a nickname. Maybe I don't know you well enough yet.” “Perhaps not.” “I'd like to, though.” “As would I.” Jensen leaned back against the couch and let out a gleeful laugh. “Now that is quite a story.” Dalton smiled at her. “I'm glad you like it. You have any funny stories about the Troy?” “None to match that one.” He reached for his drink and took a long sip of it before glancing at her again. “You requested a transfer, didn't you?” “Yes, I did.” “Why? If you don't mind me asking.” Jensen sighed thoughtfully. “No. I think it would come out at some point anyway.” She leaned a little closer to him. “It was mostly personal. The Troy was my first assignment after the Academy. It was 2365. A couple months after I arrived, we picked up a civilian science team for a three year assignment. There was an astrophysicist with them, Michael McKay.” She paused. “He was charming. We were inseparable and things got serious pretty quickly. About a year after that, he asked me to marry him.” “I see.” “I said yes. Maybe that was a mistake. Things were pretty good for a while. But last year, his assignment was coming to an end and there was no way to extend it. He got an offer at some observatory. All very prestigious. I was sorry that he'd be leaving, but I didn't realize... he was expecting me to join him. My whole life, I've wanted to become an engineer on a starship. He knew that. We talked about our plans and our dreams. I don't know, maybe he wasn't listening or he thought I would change my mind.” “I'm sorry.” She shrugged. “He did tell me that starship life didn't suit him. A long-distance relationship wouldn't have been my first choice, but plenty of people in Starfleet make it work. I would have done it. But Michael wasn't interested in that. He got pretty bitter and so did I. I broke it off last year. It was tense when we would run into each other and eventually I realized that even after he had gone, I didn't want to be there anymore. Too many memories.” “So you ran away.” Jensen stared at him, aghast. “Excuse me? How dare you say that!” Dalton cringed. “No, I didn't mean it like that. I meant – let me start over. I know what it's like to be overwhelmed by the memories and want to run away. I don't believe there's any shame in it. I didn't mean to offend you.” “What happened?” “My wife was killed two years ago. It was on my last post, before I came to the Pioneer. She was Starfleet. A geologist. She went on an away mission and there was an accident. She never had a chance.” “I'm so sorry.” “I... didn't take it well. Truthfully, I fell into a rather severe depression. Our children had to be sent to live on Earth with their grandparents.” “I didn't realize you had children.” “A daughter and a son. Cerys is nine now and Rob is seven.” “Then they were so young when their mother died. That's terrible.” “Yes. It wasn't easy on them. I couldn't take care of them or myself and I couldn't stand to be on the Gibson anymore. I got scared and I wanted to run away. I found out Captain Quinton was looking for people for the Pioneer, and so that was the solution.” Jensen finished her drink and met his gaze. “It must have been awful for you. I see why you'd want to make a change.” “Quite. I didn't mean to bring the conversation down so severely.” She waved it away. “Don't worry about it.” “It feels good to talk about it to someone now. I rarely speak of it. Actually, I suppose I haven't discussed it with anyone since Captain Quinton last year.” “I am glad you told me.” She paused and looked away. “I think there's something we need to discuss now, though.” Jensen turned back toward him and leaned forward to take his hand in hers. “Bob? I like you and I like what's happening here and I'm pretty sure you do too. However, I don't think that anything could or should happen in that way between us right now. After what happened with Michael, I don't want to get involved in a shipboard romance again so soon. Friends?” Dalton gave her a little smile. “Of course.” She stood up from the couch and stretched her arms. “It's getting pretty late, so I should probably go. I have a shift in Engineering in the morning.” Jensen leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “Good night, Bob.” Warmth flooded his face and he tried to suppress a big, stupid grin. “Good night, Tricia.”
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