“You wanted the latest status reports on the ship, sir,” Roness said, offering the padd to Vaughn. From the tone of her voice, it did not sound as though she particularly enjoyed making this delivery.
“Something wrong, Ensign?” he asked. He reached out and took the padd from her, but did not look at it.
“It’s just, well, I don’t think you’ll be completely pleased about the progress the crew has made,” she explained.
“So far,” Vaughn told her, glancing down at the padd but not actually reading it, “I am delighted by the progress we’ve made. Not to worry.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said. “Where should I report next?”
Vaughn took a half-step to the side and looked past Roness to the conn. “Ensign Tenmei,” he said, raising his voice just enough to be heard above the noise of the work being done.
Prynn turned immediately in her seat to face him across Defiant’s bridge. “Yes, sir?” she said.
Vaughn hesitated an instant, the sight of his daughter at the conn still evoking the painful memory of the moment he thought her life had been lost. On the heels of that emotion, though, came hope: Prynn had addressed him without the slightest trace of animus, either in her voice or on her face. He had to give her credit; since their discussion two weeks ago, she had been the model officer, giving him no reason to have to revisit the issue. It pleased him tremendously that she had something in her life—her work—that allowed her to face down her troubles, even if he was one of them. At the same time, he knew that while thought and emotion drove behavior, so too could behavior influence thought and emotion; if Prynn’s professional relationship with him continued in a positive way, it could potentially impact her personal feelings about him.
“Can Ensign Roness assist you at the conn?” he asked her.
“No, sir,” Prynn told him. “I’ll be done in here in just a few minutes, but I’ll be going down to help Lieutenant Candlewood with the computer core. He said he could use some extra bodies for some of the work.”
“Thank you, Ensign” Vaughn said, and looked back at Roness. “Report to Lieutenant Candlewood and give him whatever assistance he needs.”
“Aye, sir.” Roness turned and left the bridge.
Vaughn examined the padd. The words DEFIANT REFIT/REPAIR STATUS marched across the display. Vaughn touched a control and brought up a list of categories into which the work on the ship had been divided. Color-coded progress bars beneath each category indicated how much work had been completed, ranging from red—zero percent—through orange and yellow to green—one hundred percent. Most of the tasks that would augment Defiantfor exploration—Shuttlepod Removal and Pod Bay Reconfiguration, Biochem Lab Installation, Stellar Cartography Lab Installation, Sensor Recalibration, and the like—had been finished a month ago, though final diagnostic testing and any required adjustments had yet to be concluded. The only major refit modification left partially done was the expansion of the library computer system from a purely military mission profile to a military/sciences hybrid. The bulk of the work that remained involved repairs to the ship—hull breaches, damage to the port thruster package, ablative-armor replacement—a result of clashes Defianthad been engaged in during the past three weeks, including the one at Torona IV.
One by one, Vaughn toggled between the list of categories and detailed descriptions of the work completed and the work remaining. Considering the major modifications to Defiant,as well as the unanticipated repairs and the narrow time frame, the crew had done an extraordinary job. Still, not everything added up quite the way Vaughn had hoped. He thumbed through the list a second time, searching for any time that could be made up within the next week. Then he looked a third time.
We’re behind schedule,he finally allowed himself to think. And no matter how many times he studied the status reports, he chided himself, that was not going to change. Which meant that he could either try to push the crew harder, try to obtain additional resources, or push the launch back. Uncomfortable as it was for him to recognize the problem, it was actually easy for him to arrive at a solution. The crew had already pushed themselves, and Vaughn had no intention of using crew downtime to make up the deficit in the schedule; time away from duty, he well knew, played a vital role in productivity, and beyond that, the crew had earned it. And the addition of more personnel—in short supply in Starfleet these days anyway—would be mitigated by travel time to the station. Clearly, Vaughn would have to set the beginning of the mission back by at least a day.
A heavy thump to Vaughn’s right pulled his attention away from the padd. He turned to see Lieutenant Bowers and Ensign Merimark struggling with one of the library computer interface modules. The two had it perched on the side of a console, and Vaughn could not tell whether they had dropped it there after removing it or during an attempt to install it.
“Mr. Bowers,” Vaughn said, selecting the senior of the two officers to address. “Get an antigrav up here for that.”
“Yes, sir,” Bowers said, the expression on his face showing his obvious annoyance with himself that he had not used an antigrav in the first place. He left Merimark holding the module in place on the edge of the console—it did not appear to be a strain for her—and then headed out through the starboard door.
Under normal conditions, a decision to delay the mission would hardly cause any concerns for Starfleet Command, simply by virtue of its necessity. In this case, though, it might be problematic. Not all of the admiralty agreed that the time had come for renewed exploration of the Gamma Quadrant. Any attempt to delay the launch date would allow those opposed to the mission another occasion to voice their disapproval. And whenever that happened, minds could be changed.
Vaughn personally knew several admirals who believed the end of the war was still too close for the Federation to be intruding anywhere near Dominion territory, even despite Odo’s invitation for the resumption of peaceful exploration. Odo, they argued, composed but one small piece of the Great Link, and it remained to be seen whether his influence could forge a lasting peace between the Dominion and the civilizations of the Alpha Quadrant. Because a lot had been lost during the war, Vaughn understood and respected that position, even as he disagreed with it.
He blanked the display of the padd, then made a note to himself to confer with Colonel Kira about the needed delay to the start of the mission. After that, he would inform Starfleet Command of the necessary change in plan, and he considered which admiral would be best to contact first. Not Nechayev, and not Jellico,he concluded immediately. Admiral Walter,he decided. Walter was a proponent of exploration, considered a reasonable man, and a strong figure within the admiralty. He would, Vaughn thought, help preserve the prevailing sentiment that venturing into the Gamma Quadrant need not wait. And if some of the admirals did consider withdrawing their support for the mission, well, then Vaughn would just have to bring his particular brand of persuasion to bear. Despite being “only” a commander—his rank had always served his aims—Vaughn’s tenure in Starfleet had lasted longer than the careers of most of the Command admirals, and his influence had a corresponding reach.
Vaughn checked the time on the padd. His next meeting, he saw, was only a minute away. As though caused by his realization, the bridge’s port door slid open to admit Taran’atar. It did not surprise Vaughn to find Jem’Hadar—or at least this one—as punctual as Tholians.
“Taran’atar,” he said. The Jem’Hadar stepped over to Vaughn.
“Colonel Kira told me to meet you here, at this time,” Taran’atar said.