Effective Immediately
Posted on Wed Aug 26th, 2026 @ 9:20am by Commodore Tyler Malbrooke & Lieutenant Commander Rhevan Teral
Edited on on Wed Aug 26th, 2026 @ 9:27am
2,751 words; about a 14 minute read
Mission:
Episode 18 - The Edge of Darkness
Location: Ready Room - Deck 1 - USS Pioneer
Timeline: MD004 1030 hrs
Rhevan had formed an opinion of the Pioneer before the Serenity had finished docking.
He had also had the good sense not to trust it.
Ships presented themselves differently from the outside. Hull lines, weapon emplacements and sensor profiles told him what their designers had expected them to survive, but very little about the people who had eventually taken possession of them. That required corridors, open doors and the small habits nobody thought important enough to put into a readiness report. By the time Rhevan left the docking area with his travel case in hand, he had already passed a maintenance team working around an opened bulkhead without obstructing the passage, two junior officers carrying enough PADDs between them to suggest somebody had discovered a problem inconveniently close to shift change, and a pair of Marines moving in the opposite direction who gave him the quick professional appraisal of people accustomed to recognizing unfamiliar faces. Neither stared at the pointed ears. One noticed his rank. The other noticed the gold.
That was promising.
The Pioneer felt busy without feeling disordered. There was a difference. Rhevan had served aboard ships where activity was mistaken for efficiency, officers moving quickly because everyone around them was moving quickly, urgency breeding more urgency until nobody could remember who had introduced it. Here the traffic seemed to possess direction. Personnel made space for one another in the corridors, conversations continued around duty rather than replacing it, and the coexistence of Fleet and Marine uniforms appeared less awkward than several of the reports he had read suggested it might once have been. He caught fragments as he passed. A transporter diagnostic. Something about a delayed cargo manifest. A Marine complaining quietly that someone had borrowed equipment without putting it back where it belonged. Ordinary shipboard problems, which reassured him considerably more than polished silence would have.
His route carried him towards the nearest turbolift, and Security continued inspecting its new Chief whether Security knew it or not. Access points. Junctions. Emergency lockers. The placement of internal sensors against the architecture around them. There were areas he would want to examine properly later, particularly where several corridors converged near high-traffic compartments, but Rhevan resisted the temptation to begin redesigning a ship he had been aboard for less than ten minutes. Regulations could tell him how the Pioneer was supposed to respond to an intrusion. His people would tell him how she actually did. He wanted the second answer before he started changing the first.
The turbolift doors closed behind him. “Bridge.”
As the car began to move, Rhevan set the case down beside his boot and finally allowed himself a moment without anything new entering his field of view. Commodore Tyler Malbrooke's service record had been among the more interesting pieces of reading supplied with his transfer. Long commands produced reputations whether commanding officers wanted them or not, and Malbrooke's had travelled well ahead of him. Rhevan had read the commendations, operational summaries and the careful language Starfleet used whenever decisions had been controversial enough to require several paragraphs explaining why they had nevertheless worked. He had also read what was absent. There were commanders who surrounded themselves with officers unlikely to challenge them. The Pioneer's senior staff did not suggest Malbrooke suffered from that particular insecurity.
The lift opened onto the bridge.
Rhevan stepped out without lingering in the doorway. His first look across the command centre was brief rather than theatrical, taking in stations, movement, sightlines and the unconscious rhythm of officers working around one another. He would have time to learn every console, every watch rotation and every weakness later. For now, he was merely another newly arrived officer with orders to report, and there was something useful in allowing a ship to continue behaving normally before everyone became conscious that the new Security Chief was watching.
His case remained in his hand as he crossed towards the ready room. There would be quarters to claim, a department to meet and enough accumulated reports to ensure his first evening aboard was unlikely to involve the collection of wine he had packed for precisely that eventuality.
Those could wait.
Rhevan stopped before Malbrooke's door, adjusted nothing about his uniform because nothing required adjusting, and pressed the annunciator.
Tyler had just finished reading the preliminary report from Tremble. The Away Team on the planet had their hands full. Thus far there was not much in the report save for the dead being present, and the Cure had begun funeral detail. The door chime brought Tyler to the present. Crap, there was the new Security Chief. Tyler thought. He had only skimmed the file, but he knew that they were Romulan and so would not want to keep them waiting. "Come in, Commander Teral."
Rhevan stepped into the ready room with his travel case still in hand, the doors closing quietly behind him. His attention found Malbrooke first, then the active report still occupying part of the Commodore's display. The Human carried himself with the easy physical confidence Rhevan had expected from the file, broad through the shoulders even seated, but there was a slight tightness to the moment that suggested Rhevan had arrived in the middle of something rather than between tasks. He did not let his gaze linger on the report. Whatever Malbrooke had been reading was his business until he chose to make it Rhevan's.
He crossed the room and stopped at a comfortable distance from the desk. "Commodore." Rhevan inclined his head slightly. "Lieutenant Commander Rhevan Teral, reporting as ordered." His dark green eyes settled on Malbrooke, calm and attentive. "I'll try not to add unnecessarily to whatever has already found its way onto your desk."
Tyler looked up at Rhevan, he had only glanced at the transfer file. Ja'sol's request and Rhevan's assignment had been quick and sudden. But fleet logistics did not want to leave a Commodore without a Security Chief for long.
It had been some time since a Romulan had graced the corridors of the Pioneer. Tyler had half expected them to be the same, and yet in this moment he realized that they could not be more different. Vaebn was vocal and made his intentions known as often as possible. Immediately Tyler could see that Rhevan was internal, and reserved. It would be hard to know his true feelings and perhaps that was something Tyler and he had in common. "The arrival of a new member of the Senior Staff is never an interruption. Welcome aboard the Pioneer. Have a seat. Is there anything I can get you. I am sure the journey from Empok Nor all the way out here was long." He smiled warmly and poured a cup of coffee from the server that Sofia made sure was always laid out.
Rhevan set his case beside the chair before taking the offered seat, his posture straight without becoming rigid. The warmth in Malbrooke's welcome seemed genuine, which Rhevan quietly filed away alongside the unfinished report and the faint residue of whatever had occupied the Commodore before his arrival. "Coffee would be perfectly acceptable, thank you." His attention flicked briefly towards the server before returning to Tyler. "The journey was uneventful. Staff Sergeant Kunadt runs a disciplined craft."
He accepted the cup once it was offered, holding it for a moment without drinking. "I appreciate the welcome, Commodore. Transfers made this quickly don't always leave much room for ceremony." There was no complaint in the observation, merely fact. "I imagine you'd rather have your Security Chief aboard than somewhere between Empok Nor and here."
"Indeed I would. The person who had your position before you had to return home suddenly. Took a leave of absence." Tyler handed the cup to Rhevan. "Your record precedes you. A stellar officer, time with the Imperial fleet. I can only hope that your time here proves us worthy of your skills."
Rhevan’s mouth shifted by barely a fraction at the description of his record. “Stellar is generous, Commodore. Effective appears rather more consistently.” The humour was dry and restrained, his hands remaining loosely around the coffee cup. His file contained enough commendations to justify Malbrooke’s praise, but also enough carefully phrased reservations that Rhevan doubted anyone reading beyond the first page would mistake him for uncomplicated.
“I reviewed Lieutenant H’ros’s departmental record and what was available from his time here. Why he needed to leave is his business unless it affects the ship.” His dark green eyes settled back on Tyler. “As for being worthy of my skills, I think we can spare ourselves that burden. Give me time with the department, the crew and the Pioneer as she actually operates. Then I’ll know where I can be most useful.”
"Very well. Lieutenant Junior Grade Rachel Sinclair is your assistant and junior officer. Currently, she is on the asteroid below with the Away Team." Tyler paused before he proceeded. He was not sure if he should bring the Romulan up to speed already. There was the thought that he should let the new Chief settle in. But, then again with everything that is going on having the Security Chief in the thick of it would be the best way to see how he operates, and he can see how the crew operates. "We came to Camp Nostromo to escort General O'Rourke to his new command. Upon arrival we found everyone in the camp dead, with no signs of foul play. Colonel Tremble has led an Away Team to see what happened down there. I hate to do this to you. But it seems that you are going to have to hit the proverbial ground running."
Rhevan listened without interrupting, the coffee held loosely between his hands as the scale of what Malbrooke was describing settled into place. Twelve thousand Marines did not simply die without leaving some kind of answer behind, even if that answer had yet to show itself. Sinclair being with the away team was precisely where he would have expected his assistant to be under the circumstances, and there was little value in inserting himself into an investigation already underway merely to establish that he was now in charge. “Lieutenant Sinclair is where she needs to be. Let her finish the work in front of her and I’ll speak with her when the team returns.” His expression remained composed, though his attention had sharpened considerably. “And I wouldn’t worry about the timing, Commodore. Starfleet has never shown much interest in allowing anyone to settle in before producing a crisis.”
He took a measured drink, using the moment to arrange what mattered before asking anything. “What concerns me from here is what may have happened around Nostromo before we arrived. Are there any other vessels in the vicinity, or records of ships arriving or departing shortly before contact with the camp was lost?” Rhevan set the cup down carefully. “And have we seen anything unusual from the camp’s communications, defensive systems or computer network? A facility that size should have been generating traffic constantly. Twelve thousand people becoming silent is one thing. Twelve thousand people becoming silent without the systems around them behaving strangely would interest me considerably more.”
His eyes stayed on Malbrooke. “Until we know what killed them, I’d also prefer that anything coming back from the surface be treated cautiously. Not because I assume the away team is compromised, but because I see no reason to give an unknown threat access to the ship simply because it hasn’t introduced itself yet.”
There was that Romulan prudence, that suspicion of everyone and everything. For once Tyler was glad to have it on his side. "That is what is the strangest of all. When we arrived, we found all systems running automatically. It was only the lack of response to the hail that gave us a pause. Scans showed no sign of warp or power signatures. Dr O'Rourke our Chief Medical Officer has joined the team at the base. Doctors Goldberg and Zano are running Sick Bay. I will make sure they are aware that quarantine protocol should be initiated for the team."
Tyler paused for a moment and took a sip of his coffee. "I want to thank you for taking this assignment Commander. I know it is not as glamourous as some assignments. But, I can tell you that there is more than our fair share of work around these parts."
Rhevan considered the answer for a moment, then gave a small nod. “With what we know now, the lack of response to the hail makes sense. There was nobody left to answer it. Automated systems continuing to function isn't particularly surprising either.” The absence of other vessels interested him more. It did not prove the event had originated within Nostromo, but it narrowed the board considerably. “No traffic in or out is useful. If your sensor records are complete, whatever happened may have been confined to the base rather than brought in by a departing ship. That is good news for everyone outside Nostromo. Considerably less so for the twelve thousand people who were already there.”
His expression tightened slightly when Tyler mentioned making Medical aware of quarantine protocols. “That part concerns me more.” Rhevan's casualness leaving his posture without turning the moment into alarm. “Do we know whether the away team went down on independent air, or are they breathing the local atmosphere?” He did not wait long before adding the reason. “If we haven't established what killed those Marines, then biological contamination has to remain on the table. If the team went in without respiratory protection and the agent is still viable, they may already have been exposed. Transporter biofilters give us another layer of protection, but I would prefer not to discover their limitations with an entire away team standing in the transporter room.” His gaze stayed level on Tyler. “I'd recommend we treat them as potentially contaminated until Doctor O'Rourke tells us otherwise, and prepare isolation before they come back aboard rather than after.”
At Tyler's thanks, the harder edge of his concentration eased. “You don't need to thank me, Commodore. The Pioneer is a flagship. When the position became available, taking it was a fairly natural progression for me.” A faint trace of dry humour returned as he reached for the coffee again. “And I wasn't under the impression flagships were selected for the quiet lives of their crews. If there's work to be done, I've arrived at an appropriate time.”
There was that dry Romulan wit that Tyler missed since Vaebn's departure. "I agree with your assessment of the Away Team. Make the needed preparations and each and every member of the team will have to be cleared before they can go about their duties. I will leave it to you. In my experience it is better to let someone do what they do best."
Rhevan gave a measured nod. Malbrooke was giving him the authority to solve the problem rather than merely handing him responsibility for it, and that distinction mattered. “Understood, Commodore. I’ll coordinate with Medical and make certain the return of the away team is handled as a containment issue until they’re cleared. If anything develops that changes the situation aboard ship, you’ll know about it.”
He finished the last of the coffee, set the cup down and rose from the chair, smoothing the front of his uniform almost absently as he came to his feet. His travel case remained beside him for the moment. Rhevan did not assume the meeting was over simply because his first task had been assigned. He stood composed before Malbrooke’s desk, attentive and waiting for the Commodore to dismiss him.
"Welcome aboard. Dismissed Commander." Tyler watched as the Romulan left the Ready Room. The only thing he knew in the immediate was that he was grateful that Rhevan came aboard, and that the Pioneer was not going to know what hit it when the Romulan hit the ground running.
A Joint Post By
Lieutenant Commander Rhevan Teral
Chief Security/Tactical Officer, USS Pioneer
Commodore Tyler Malbrooke
Commanding Officer, USS Pioneer
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