Into The Unknown

Posted on Fri May 22nd, 2026 @ 7:38am by Commodore Tyler Malbrooke & Lieutenant Commander Alyssa Maren & Lieutenant Ja'sol H'ros & Lieutenant Kolok & Lieutenant Junior Grade Galen Trellis & Lieutenant Junior Grade Jack Hunter & Lieutenant Vura & Lieutenant Colonel Cornelius Tremble & Staff Warrant Officer Rommie & Sergeant Major Lachlan Barr & Brigadier General Seamus O'Rourke
Edited on on Fri May 22nd, 2026 @ 9:53am

3,034 words; about a 15 minute read

Mission: Episode 18 - The Edge of Darkness
Location: Bridge - Deck 1 - USS Pioneer
Timeline: MD001 1800 hrs

Lieutenant jg Galen Trellis sat at the helm, running through the pre-departure checklist with practiced efficiency. The Pioneer was ready to depart—course plotted to Camp Nostromo, all systems nominal, just waiting for the final word from command.

"You know," Galen said quietly to whoever was at the adjacent station, keeping his voice low and conversational, "I've always wondered—do generals have their aides-de-camp handle everything for them? Filing reports, managing schedules...hell, even chew their food, too?" He said sarcastically.

Kolok sighed. He was running final checks on the Pioneer's power and computer systems. He'd already done it before, but it never hurt to double-check. From his position at the back of the bridge, he had an excellent view, which would allow him to react quickly if necessary. The meandering question from the helmsman annoyed him

"Lieutenant Trellis, are you not joined? Surely you can find the answer to that question in your own mind?"

For her part, Vura stood by her chair on the bridge, smiling and soaking in the sounds and sights of the bridge. There was nothing like ship gossip and she was certainly going to listen to it. Besides, it might be important to hear what the crew thought about a general coming onto the Pioneer. Probably not, but one never knew.

Galen turned slightly in his chair, his expression shifting to something more theatrical, more dramatic. "Oh my friend, I have lived through terrors that would keep the strongest Klingon Warrior awake for days," he said with exaggerated gravitas. "I have witnessed things no sentient being should have to endure."

He paused for effect, then turned towards the Klingon Officer to speak with perfect deadpan delivery, "I've. . .seen. . .Tribbles!"

Lachlan sat in the command chair with the stiff discomfort of a man who would rather be almost anywhere else on the ship. Give him an armoury, a firing range, or a corridor full of angry boarding parties and he would know exactly what to do with himself. The centre seat, by contrast, felt like it had been designed by someone with a cruel sense of humour.

Vura cut in and said, "Tribbles are super cute! I would have considered having one for a pet."

Galen held up a hand, his expression remaining deadly serious. "Cute, yes. But deadly." He said, shaking his head as if recalling a moment on the battlefield. "Ryla, my previous host, encountered a tribble infestation on a cargo run—Within hours they had overrun the entire ship. Thousands of them. Relentless. Unstoppable. Like a furry, cooing plague."

He turned back toward Kolok, his tone grave, but still theatrical. "It was like a scene from a horror holo-vid, there she was—surrounded by an army of purring, multiplying death machines. No escape. No hope. Just... tribbles. Everywhere." Galen paused for dramatic effect.

"She barely made it to a station alive. . .That's the kind of terror I carry with me, Lieutenant Kolok. The kind that haunts a man—or a symbiont—for lifetimes." The Trill said as he tried his hardest to restrain the edges of a smile from forming on his face.

He let Trellis and Kolok trade their little volley before finally lifting his eyes from the readiness reports on the armrest display.

“Right,” he said, voice calm but carrying just enough to settle the room. “Before this turns into a philosophical debate on whether generals chew their own breakfast, let’s remember we’re about to receive one with full honours.”

His gaze moved briefly from the helm to the rear stations, not hard, but enough.

“Lieutenant Trellis, keep us ready to depart on the Commodore’s word. Lieutenant Kolok, final systems check, if you please, without bruisin’ anyone’s soul in the process.”

A faint, dry edge touched his mouth before it was gone.

“And for the record, if the General needs someone to chew his food, I’m resignin’ from this chair before anyone volunteers me.”

He settled back again, though not comfortably, eyes flicking toward the turbolift doors.

The turbolift doors opened with a soft hiss. Hunter walked onto the bridge carrying a data padd tucked beneath one arm.

There was something about a bridge right before departure that always felt alive to him. It wasn't chaotic, more like controlled energy.

"Good day, everyone," Hunter said as he walked to the right of the bridge toward the engineering station.

Vura decided to have some fun and batted her eyes at Hunter and told him in an alluring, breathy voice. "Good day, Lieutenant Hunter. How may I be of assistance?"

Jack dropped one level and was about to hit the engineering station when he heard Lieutenant Vura. “Sure, a cup of coffee please, cream, if you can, Lieutenant.” He responded with a wink and smile.

Vura was less than amused. How DARE he treat her like a secretary? A sexy Deltan like her?! One that everyone on this ship wanted in some way or the other and he treated her with the utmost disregard? She should touch him and let his pheromones rage with desire for her. She pointed at the replicator with grace and said, "If you're desirous of something other than me, that can satisfy your needs."

Jack took a quick glance at the replicator and back at Vura.

"Appreciate that." and smiled at her trying to go further with the sarcasm.

Vura did not reply, letting Hunter's comments fall on ears that were just as desirous of talking to Neil.

At the security station, Ja'sol was feeling the wild emotions that were running high, well especially from the counselor. He barely kept his mouth from twitching into a smile, Vura had such high regard for herself. He kept quiet, awaiting the arrival from the General.

The turbolift doors next to the Security & Tactical station opened. Tyler was the first to step out. He walked toward the command rail and announced. "General on the Bridge."

Lachlan was already moving before the last word finished leaving Tyler’s mouth. Whatever discomfort he had with the centre chair vanished under old Marine instinct; he came to his feet smoothly, spine straight, hands settling at his sides.

“Bridge, attention,” he called, voice sharp enough to cut through the last of the chatter without needing to be loud.

He stepped clear of the command chair and turned slightly toward Tyler and the arriving General, giving the chair back without fuss and without looking remotely sorry to be rid of it.

“Commodore,” he said with a respectful nod, then to the General, “General. Welcome aboard.”

In a brief show for the General, Tyler stepped toward the center chair. "You stand relieved, Sergeant Major. I have the Bridge." He then turned toward the General. "You see. Nothing too special, but we call it home. There is something you should note. We are the first vessel to integrate Marines into the day to day functions of the ship. As such to the aft of the Bridge we have a Marine Operations station. There is always someone at that station when The Cure is off ship. As you see we also have Marines integrated into the command structure. Some members of The Cure take shifts on the Bridge at stations such as the Helm. All in all, it works well." Tyler indicated the stations as he spoke.

"Interesting, I have read Admiral Harrington and General Sobel's reports on the subject." O'Rourke said. "But it will be different in person."

Alyssa entered the bridge a step behind the general and commodore, pleased to be out of the spotlight for now. She'd never been much for this sort of protocol, even when she had to deal with it when negotiating with planetary governments to protect archaeological sites.

As soon as the commodore officially took command of the Bridge, Alyssa relieved the officer at science and took her place. Her job as 2XO was over and she could go back to her preferred position at science.

Vura stood at attention. When she saw Alyssa, she gave her a small wink when she felt the General was not looking in her direction and Alyssa was.

Since both the general and the commodore had their back to her, Alyssa smiled a greeting to the counselor.

Tyler glanced around the Bridge. "Lieutenant Kolok. Is the ship ready to depart?"

"Sir," Kolok said, standing perfectly at attention. "The ship is ready in all aspects. Power systems are at peak efficiency. Computer systems are nominal. The Pioneer awaits the departure order."

"General O'Rourke. Have you ever commanded a ship out of spacedock?" Tyler was pretty sure that he had not. The Commodore also thought it may be a special treat for the General. Besides, should O'Rourke take him up on the offer Tyler would stand over him and make sure the paint did not get scratched.

"No, Commodore, I have not." O'Rourke said. "That's the purview of 'Fleet."

Alyssa's shoulders relaxed slightly. She didn't even realize she'd been tense until now. But she was much more comfortable with the commodore at the helm as he knew the ship and crew. Maybe once they were out of space dock would be better--if the general changed his mind, that is. He might prefer to hang out with the Marines. Then, thinking of the gift shop, she decided that might not be such a good idea, either.

Neil stepped on the fairly crowded bridge and took in the spectacle, pausing next to the Marine Ops station. He intended to leave the XO's seat open for the General should he decide to remain on the bridge for a time. Beside him, from the terminal Rommie's data stream formed and the Warrant Officer stepped out. Her mouth didn't move but in his earbud, her voice said, "All is ready for departure and the station is signaling Pioneer is clear for movement, Colonel. Approach control has the way cleared."

Neil glanced to meet the AI's eyes and simply nodded.

Lachlan stepped back from the centre seat with no argument and less regret. If anything, there was the faintest easing in his shoulders once Tyler formally took the Bridge. He moved to the aft section with the kind of quiet efficiency that let him disappear into the working rhythm of the room, taking position near the Marine Operations station without crowding Neil or Rommie.

At the Sergeant Major's appearance, Rommie straightened and faded into her data stream, leaving only her eyes on the monitor behind them to indicate she was still present if needed, but giving the two men room.

He listened as Tyler explained the integration of the Cure into shipboard function, his expression neutral but attentive. There was a flicker of something behind his eyes when the Commodore mentioned Marines in the command structure; not pride exactly, but a sober awareness of how much work had gone into making that sentence sound simple.

When O’Rourke admitted he had never commanded a ship out of spacedock, Lachlan’s mouth twitched slightly. He kept his eyes forward, hands clasped behind his back, but there was a faint dry amusement in the set of his face. A Marine General taking a starship out of dock. There were worse ways to make a Fleet crew sweat.

He glanced once toward Neil, then back to the centre of the Bridge, saying nothing. This was Tyler’s show now, and Lachlan was more than happy to let someone else sit in the chair while he watched the room do what it was built to do.

Lieutenant Trellis kept his expression perfectly neutral at the Helm console, but internally he grimaced at the thought of a Marine Corps General guiding the Pioneer out of dock. Trellis' previous host, Dorian, provided an instant flood of memories of Marines breaking expensive things with what seemed like an unlimited amount of enthusiasm. That approach had a certain brutal efficiency in combat zones. It was considerably less appealing when applied to navigating a starship through tight clearances with station infrastructure on all sides.

"Part of your tour aboard this vessel is to experience the full integration of Marines into the day to day operation of a starship. To that end General O’Rourke, it would be an honor if you would take us out." Tyler stepped to the side of the command chair and indicated that the General should take a seat.

"Thank you, Commodore," Seamus said, taking the Captain’s Chair.

Once the General was seated, Tyler took the XO's chair. "The General has the Bridge."

Alyssa kept her eyes on her console and her opinions to herself. She didn't know the general and had no idea how he'd do in the center chair. At least the pilot knew what he was doing.

Vura watched for everyone's reactions to see if anything might be amiss. After assessing the situation, she took a seat in her chair.

"Operations, put me through to Empok Nor Operations." Seamus ordered.

Kolok pivoted and tapped in the sequence that would open the channel for the General. "Empok Nor Operations is receiving you, General," Kolok said, his deep voice rumbling through the bridge.

"This is Brigadier General Seamus O'Rourke of the USS Pioneer requesting permission to launch."

=/\="Pioneer, you are cleared to launch, Safe travels. Empok Nor Operations, out."=/\=

"Operations withdraw umbilicals and cut moorings." Seamus ordered.

Kolok had anticipated the order and had the sequence ready to go with only one tap. "Ship is floating free, sir."

"Helm take us out at half impulse."

"Aye, sir! Half impulse," Lieutenant Trellis acknowledged crisply, his response carrying just a hint more snap than his usual Starfleet delivery.

Old habits, he thought wryly, even as he fell into the pattern.

The Pioneer eased away from Empok Nor with practiced precision, station moorings releasing cleanly as the ship responded to his touch. Lieutenant Trellis kept his eyes locked on the navigational display, monitoring clearance distances and traffic patterns as they moved through the departure corridor with textbook efficiency.

The station receded in the viewport, growing smaller as they cleared the established traffic lanes. Sensors showed green across the board—no obstacles, clear navigation path ahead.

"Clear of the station, sir!" Lieutenant Trellis reported, his voice carrying that same infantry edge. "Ready for warp on your order."

Once they were clear of the station. "Helm take us to warp 7." A smiled crossed the General's lips. "Punch it." He ordered.

When the command came—"Helm take us to warp 7. Punch it."— Lieutenant Trellis felt a flicker of amusement at the distinctly informal phrasing from a flag officer. Punch it. That was pure Marine—no flowery fleet language, just direct action.

"Warp seven, aye sir," he confirmed sharply, his fingers moving across the controls with the kind of decisive efficiency Dorian would have appreciated.

Tyler felt and slight lurch that only someone who had experienced it hundreds, thousands of times before could feel. He heard the warp nacelles rise and lock into place. The ship jumped into warp. He smiled at the General. "Well done General. Well done indeed. Not bad for a first time."

There was one more thing that had to be done. "Lieutenant Trellis. When we are clear of the sector set a course for Camp Nostromo in the Typhon Sector. Slipstream factor 1.5. The General here has a command to get to."

Lieutenant Trellis acknowledged the order with sharp professionalism. "Aye, Commodore. Course laid in for Camp Nostromo, Typhon Sector."

His fingers moved across the helm controls, plotting the slipstream course with careful precision. This would be his first time engaging the slipstream drive on an actual mission—not a simulation, not a test run, but a real operational deployment with a flag officer aboard and a destination that mattered.

Slipstream was different from standard warp flight—more complex, more demanding, requiring constant micro-adjustments to maintain the quantum tunnel stability. His previous host, Ryla, had piloting instincts that helped, her four decades of threading ships through dangerous space providing a foundation of spatial awareness. But slipstream was its own beast, and Galen had spent hours studying the theoretical parameters and running simulations to prepare for this moment.

"We're clear of the sector, Commodore," Lieutenant Trellis reported, his tone steady despite the slight flutter of anticipation in his chest. "Ready to engage slipstream drive on your mark."

Tyler looked around the Bridge and realized that the short trip home had not really been home. This ship was home, these people family, and he would not have it any other way. "Giddy Up..."

Seamus let a brief smile cross his lips.

A Joint Post By

Commodore Tyler Malbrooke
Commanding Officer, USS Pioneer