Moya Artel, newly promoted 1st lieutenant, threw her bag into a corner from the door. The quarters, which would normally house two, were empty. She sighed. The Commodore had been polite enough, but the words behind his greetings had been distant. Fair enough. If she wasn't exactly welcome it wasn't a new sensation. She had been re-assigned over someone's protestations. It wasn't her fault, but she was the one in the field. The Commodore had made it clear that she should stay out of everyone's way.
She crossed to her bag and glared down at it. Her tail twitched behind her, the only sign of her irritation. Her muzzle twisted in a sudden grin at herself. "So?" she demanded of the deck at her feet. "I get the best bunk!" She grabbed her bag and carried it to the bunk farthest from the door. She opened it and dumped all of her meager possessions onto the bunk. Only the picture of her grandmother - 2D, very old-fashioned - stayed out. Everything else went back into the bag to be stowed away out of sight. There was no point in decorating. She'd probably be re-assigned before too long anyway.
The intercom twittered at her. [Lt. Artel? Commodore Pike. Report to the bridge.]
Her ears perked up, literally. She'd been greeted, and that was all he owed her. Since she couldn't be transferred already, it had to be a mission. She shook her head at her own eagerness and left her quarters.
"Sir?" She came to sharp attention, determined not to give him a reason to transfer her.
"Can you fly a shuttle?"
"Yes."
"Good." He gestured at the viewscreen. "We just got a distress call from the USS Darbyshire. They report only a handful of survivors. We don't know what happened to them. I can't spare any of my people. You're it. I can't even give you back-up."
"Not a problem sir." She fought back a smile that would have looked more like a snarl to his eyes. "On my way." She ignored the stares of the bridge crew. Someone whispered "Rex," as though it were an insult, but she ignored the word. It meant nothing as long as she had a job to do.
In the turbolift she touched her lucky medallion. Anthony had given it to her after their first wild mission. He still wore his, and it made her feel comforted, as though he was still by her side. She had to succeed, and Anthony would be with her in spirit, even if she was physically alone. She would succeed.
Pike hoped the crew of the wounded ship could be reached in time. They had managed to report a massive hull breach before communications cut out. Even if the Artel got to them, he hoped that they wouldn't panic at her feline features. He sighed and turned his attention back to the Kelvans.
With only a brief pause to collect her personal weapons and gauntlets, she hurried to the shuttlebay.
Maya pulled the gauntlets over her fingers to hide her claws and ran a warp-speed pre-flight check. When everything showed normal she launched, homing in immediately on the distressed ship.
The Darbyshire was tumbling in space, apparently a victim of an internal explosion of some sort. It reminded her of her first mission, and wondered if sabotage was the cause here as well. She set the memory and its accompanying thoughts aside. She matched the spin of the crippled ship, ignoring the fighters that she could see in the distance. She locked onto the hull over the breach, figuring it would give her the best entry into the ship.
"This is Moya Artel, of the USS Knight," she called over the comm. No answer.
"Fine." She unstrapped and glided across to the shuttle hatch. She had neglected the gravity, but it didn't matter. The Darbyshire would not have gravity, either, from the looks of it. She would be lucky if the life support stayed online for any length of time.
She pushed along the halls, tricorder out, scanning for life. Somehow, despite the hole in her side, the Darbyshire did have life support, and it did not appear to be failing at all. Moya's tail fluffed - something was not right. She pulled up short at a section of damaged bulkhead and scanned it. The energy residue was from Starfleet-type phasers.
"Help!" A woman in a torn uniform flew down the hallway towards and past her. Moya snagged the woman by the leg to stop her flight. "They're all crazy!" the woman cried.
More noise reached them from the end of the corridor. The woman crouched down and covered her ears. Moya drew her phaser and assured herself that it was set to stun. "Stay here."
She advanced in long leaps, landing on floor, then ceiling, then wall, keeping no pattern. "Moya Artel, Starfleet. We're here to rescue you," she repeated.
A phaser burn seared the floor near her. Five figures charged her from behind cover. She bounded at an awkward angle, hoping to sail over them and attack from behind. One phaser struck her in the arm, knocking her off her planned path. She landed in the middle of the five.
Even hampered by her gauntlets she managed to subdue the quintet. She stunned them for added safety and transported them to the shuttle, where a forcefield kept them penned together. Only then did she return to the woman. The torn uniform was a Starfleet uniform, a science officer's blue.
"They... attacked us. There were only twelve of us, and they.. killed the Captain first. I'm the only one left," she wept.
"Relax now," Moya assured her, leading her into the shuttle. "We have more ships out here now."
"No!" the woman cried. "You don't understand!"
"So tell me." Moya strapped herself into the pilot's seat and released docking clamps. They turned elegantly back towards the Knight.
"The people out here - they blame Starfleet for the attacks! They want us to surrender to the Kelvans!" The woman beat her fists against the co-pilot's panel. "They are fighting against Starfleet!"
"We'll send out warnings." Moya shook her head. Great, she thought. Not only am I new to the Knight, but I get to be the bearer of bad news, too.
She took the scientist to sickbay, the prisoners to the brig, and herself to the bridge.
"Commodore." She made her report in a low voice. "So now you have to watch your back, too," she wound up. "Sir."
His face did not register anything for several minutes. Then: "Thank you, Lieutenant. I'm glad we found out." He eyed her bruised muzzle and damaged arm. "Looks like you need a visit to the sickbay yourself."
"It's all right, sir," she said in response.
"Lieutenant. If you're going to be assigned to the Knight, you'll have to learn to obey orders." A twinkle in his eye let her know that he understood her position.
She saluted with her uninjured arm. "Aye, Commodore."