Pilot Episode - Act III

Zuto shifts his weight uncomfortably. He doesn't pretend to understand Inphirian body language well - or... at all - but he'd be willing to bet both his lieutenant-junior-grade pips that the static-electricity look of Oobadek's tendrils signifies distress and embarrassment. It sort of makes him wish he had an emergency transport signal set up so he could leave unobtrusively.

On the screen, Dokling's own tendrils are by comparison a model of decorum. As Oobadek assures his superior of the loyalty of his conduct, two of Dokling's tendrils make a sophisticated, unison gesture reminiscent of a someone making a small flourish with one hand. Zuto has the impression this is meant to to convey "of course you are loyal," but it's not clear whether the meaning is sincere or sarcastic.Dokling's voice is still calm - frustratingly so, to Zuto - and impassive. "I must make some inquiries. Please continue to monitor the situation with Starfleet and contact me at once if there is escalation. Until further notice, you report directly to me."

His complete lack of the appearance of urgency seems strangely incongruous to Zuto. But maybe that is just the Inphirian communication style, Zuto thinks.

Oobadek bows lightly, his tendrils relaxing as they do so, "Thank you. I appreciate not being alone out here. For the Institute!" he pledges as he signs off.

He gets up, unfurls a clawed hand behind his back. After relaxing his tense fingers, he looks at his observer curiously.

To Lt. Zuto he says, "What do you think, was he hiding anything?"

Zuto's expression clearly states, You're asking ME? He shrugs. "Honestly, your communication standards and body language are simply too foreign to me. At this point, I don't feel qualified to offer an opinion."

A beat or two passes. "But if that had been a conversation between two members of any humanoid species I'm better acquainted with? I'd say it definitely didn't seem like he was surprised to hear that Kenthek changed the language of the agreement, and he didn't appear to be as worried about the diplomatic fallout as I would have expected."

The Hodgkin has been traveling through Inphirian space for several hours. The senior bridge officers are all at their posts, and the captain has been in her command chair for the past hour, with Commander Hamilton at her right and Counselor Minsk at her left. The atmosphere is somewhat charged with underlying tension; not only is this the maiden voyage of the Hodgkin and her crew, but McCurry has briefed the bridge crew about the controversial language that's been added to the agreement with the Inphirians.

When Blakeney finally reports that sensors have spotted an Inphirian cruiser approaching, it's almost a relief, despite the complexity of the situation.

"We're about to enter weapons range, sir," Blakeney says a little while later. He is focused and calm, with a slight hint of excitement.

The captain, to outward appearances, looks serene, chin held in her right hand with her index finger resting against her lips. As the lift door opens, a hint of a smile curves the corners of her mouth, and she lowers her hand. "Any last thoughts on this initial liaison, Officer Oobadek? You have... seven point three seconds to voice them, by my rough calculations," she says, glancing back over her shoulder as the Inphirian envoy comes onto the bridge.

"I would keep scanning and if anything looks remiss, activate shields and blame me."

Oobadek stands at the side of the bridge, out of the way.

"Data on the approaching cruiser. Weapons systems, shields, speed, approach vector, comms, in that order. Go," instructs the captain in a crisp voice.

"The ship has the standard weapons array for the Inphirian cruiser class," Iron Eyes says from the tactical station. "I'm reading particle cannons and a full complement of plasma torpedoes. No weapons are currently charged, but her shields are up."

As soon as she stops speaking, Blakeney takes over. "The cruiser is approaching at warp three at a bearing of four point one, mark two." He doesn't characterize this approach, knowing that McCurry will recognize that this doesn't suggest a ship spoiling for a violent confrontation. At least, not right away.

There is a brief pause before Leya chimes in. "They are hailing us, Captain."

"Lieutenant Iron Eyes, lower the shields," says McCurry. "Let’s appear as friendly as we are, shall we? Lieutenant Leya, on screen."

McCurry straightens her uniform, chin lifting slightly, as she waits.

"The crew of the Hodgkin returns your kind greetings. I am Captain Tabitha McCurry of the USS Hodgkin. It is a honor to make your acquaintance," McCurry says, politely but a bit warmer than strict formality. "We have been tasked with providing support in light of the recent appearance of a Vruxil starship, and look forward to a productive and mutually beneficial relationship between our people."

McCurry's eyebrows lift just slightly, a look of thoughtful skepticism curving her mouth. "So much for the controversy regarding the shields," she says quietly, though audible to those nearby.

She turns and nods to Iron Eyes. "Shields up, Lieutenant."

"Match course and speed with the Senuak," she instructs the helm, and turns to face Oobadek. "Thoughts on our first meeting with our Inphirian colleagues on this mission? Are you acquainted with Commander Betlan?"

Oobadek steps away from the wall and says directly to the captain, "Pragmatism in the field seems to have outmaneuvered political posturing. I am certain that the Hodgkin is welcome out here in the deep. I hope they continue to remember that, Captain."

Tabitha nods in acknowledgement. As she turns to face forward again, she says, "I very much hope that as well."

Edgar, who had been on edge the entire time this drama was playing out, finally let his shoulders drop about six inches. Bowing his head he muttered under his breath, "Thank God that turned out ok."

"Of course it did, Counselor Mistik," Hamilton says plainly. "Level heads save the day. And we should hope they continue to do so."

She turns to Tabitha. "Broom handle" comes to mind. "Captain McCurry, who would you like on the away team?" She glances at Oobadek, but keeps the question directed at her superior officer.

Tabitha turns to her first officer and replies, "Your recommendations, Hamilton?"

The captain interlaces her fingers and rests her hands in her lap as she looks at Pleiades. She does that polite but not quite formal tone of voice well.

Hamilton is ready for this.

"May I suggest I lead a team of Lieutenants Iron Eyes and Blakeney, as well as Liaison Officer Oobadek."

"I’m certain that you will be a fine team lead here, Commander. I am confident that you will ensure proper protocol," says Tabitha. The only hint that she might be teasing — if she is at all — is the faint crinkling at the corners of her eyes. Blakeney and Oobadek are also good choices. I approve," she adds.

She drums her fingers on the arm of her seat, then turns to address Iron Eyes. "I would prefer to keep my security chief on board, however. I don’t want to give the impression we’re that concerned about security. Lieutenant," she says, addressing Iron Eyes, "I’m think Lieutenant Hironaka instead. Would you agree?"