Morning by the Tide

Posted on Sun Jun 21st, 2020 @ 4:39am by Lieutenant Arthur Torres Dr.
Edited on on Wed Jun 24th, 2020 @ 8:05am

Mission: Into the Wild
Location: Holodeck
Timeline: Current

Taking a moment out of his busy schedule for enjoyment, Art was wrapping up his training routine on the holodeck. It was the same one he ran almost every day, featuring a twenty minute run through a thick virtual forest, followed by a twenty-minute swim. Now he settled into the gentle rhythm of his tai-chi routine, another half-hour of solid exercise that helped rejuvenate his muscles and his mind. While his body flowed with the well-honed movements of te form he let his mind wander through the last couple of days. The arrival at Pandora, and the successive task of settling in.

Meeting the captain had been more enjoyable than Arthur had thought likely. Temple was... lighter than most officers Art had met since joining the Fleet. It seemed natural that the weight of command would be a heavy weight, but for many people, it seemed overwhelming. There were too many things to be afraid of, these days. The Federation had faced one crisis after another, and as it continued to expand that slew of civilization-wide problems seemed unlikely to abate. For someone serving in Starfleet, any and all such crisis would be experienced from the front line. For the captain of a Starfleet vessel, the pressure was even more intense.

Arthur laughed. Or maybe that's all in my own head, he said to himself. He did have the tendency to see conspiracies and problems wherever they arose. And granted, there were problems in the Federation, now, that had not been around a hundred years ago. But there were also fantastic new advancements, and Starfleet had played a good role in helping millions of people across the galaxy lead better lives.

Sweat pouring down his brow, Arthur finished the last part of the movement. There were over eighty separate pieces to the Chen style that he knew best, each one reliant upon a level of skill and concentration that was very nearly obscene. Studying the form for ten years had given him muscles like steel and the patience of a Saint, but it also felt as if he were just beginning to understand how the form actually functioned. His old teacher, Shifu Ella Qwan, had explained to him that the form she taught had been passed down through generations of her teaching line. It was, she had said, a form that could function as well for self-defense as any of the better-known martial arts. She had believed it when she said it -- though Qwan had been a small woman in her late fifties, she had never once blinked during their training sessions. During her demonstrations, she gave the distinct impression of holding back for his safety. However, Art himself had never fully appreciated the potential of Chen-style. It had improved him, physically, but for years there had been the nagging doubt that he would have been better off studying something more overtly combative. Only recently had he begun to understand that what Tai Chi offered could be just as potent, and it came with other benefits as well.

He had chosen to work on his form on the simulated beach, the sea breeze flowing around him and raising pleasing bumps on his damp skin. Finished, he sat on a nearby rock, drying himself with the towel he had left there. His mental landscape refreshed by the workout, the tasks ahead seemed a little less daunting. He had met with the captain, and that was the first and most important duty. But now it fell to him, as head of the strat-ops department, to connect with both the security and intelligence departments and begin preparing mission evaluations and recommendations. The reports he made aboard Pandora would be transmitted back to the nearest sector strat-ops commander, who would compile reports from dozens of officers in order to maintain Fleet operations for the entire theater. Technically, his first duty was to act as an adviser to his direct CO, but the larger scope of his duties would likely take far more of his time.

He picked up the padd he had left along with his towel on the rock and scanned through it. James Smith was the intel chief. His record was exemplary, and he had experience in the region. That was important. Art made a note next to Smith's name on the padd, reminding himself to set up an appointment in the next few days. Next, he looked up the security chief, who he had 'met' but briefly on the bridge just the day before. What was his name again? He scrolled through the manifest until he found the entry he was looking for. Cailus, that's it. Not Kalus. Huh.

There was no doubt that this Cailus fellow had an incredibly fascinating background. Essentially buried for the last hundred years, the man had entered into modern life well. Arthur nodded to himself and tapped his commbadge. "Computer, send a message to Lieutenant Grifffin. I'd like to schedule an appointment, at his earliest convenience." The computer beeped a response, and Arthur finished drying his hair with the towel. The day was ahead of him, and he was looking forward to whatever it might choose to bring.