Task Force: Gamma

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Flight operations, primary mission operations, secondary mission operations, Emergency medical operations, evacuation operations...why not a bar operation? Right now he could use a drink. At least that's what they say. Talbert didn't drink.

The commander leaned back in his study and rubbed his eyes. The last two weeks of refit had flown by. He had turned the ship inside out and personally took a hand in every area of it. He knew the captain had studied at least that long before coming aboard, but there was something special about hands-on to him. The moment he heard he would be transferred on board as the Chief Operations Officer, he knew he'd have his hands full. From the new warp core to the computer re-construction, this ship was going to be unique. The Guardian had a colorful history dating back to the days of the Klingon war. Her decommissioning was all but certain until Admiral Milare took a direct interest in her.

Now the team was assembled, the rendezvous with the Hartington was laid in, and from there...who knew? He dropped a PADD on the desk and moved over to the replicator. "Mineral water, cold." He downed the water quickly, and moved deeper into his quarters.

Talbert knew nothing of Captain Marek, except that he taught at the Academy. He had never served under, or for that matter with, a vulcan officer. This will be interesting. Well, time to rest. This ship sails at 0900, and the operations were going to be in full swing, too. He knew the computer would handle it and that interactions would be automatically smooth. But would he? His last direct action orders had sent 30 men and women to their deaths aboard the Odyssey. Since then, he had developed a hard exterior. A rock that no crewman would penetrate again. The Whip. But that did not mean he would automatically make the right decisions.

Well, I guess we'll find out tomorrow. He turned into bed, manually dimmed the lights, and fell instantly to sleep.
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Live a life of action...not reaction.