ON: Potemkin. 15:00. Mission Day Two.

Lieutenant Tupalov walked onto the bridge, noticing that niether Mavose
nor the infamous XO were on the bridge. A smile crept across his face as
he walked round to the command well. He coughed, the Ensign sitting in the
command chair looked lazily round to Tupalov, no doubt enjoying his
'probably' first stint in the chair, allowing the status of watch officer
to soak into his ego. The guys gaze stopped dead at Tupalov, who smiled
innocently at the younger man. The Ensign almost leaped out of the chair,
his eyes wide with... 'was it fear?' Tupalov pondered.

"Course and speed" Tupalov queried as he sat down in the command chair.

"Direct course for Akna IV, warp 6" the helm officer replied. It concerned
and, more to the point, disgusted Tupalov that they were going into
Klingon space. If it were up to him, he'd shove the smelly buggers into an
escape pod, fire it towards the empire, and wave good luck. But no...
bloody Mavose had to observe diplomacy, didn't he.

Tupalov began to wonder what would happen, aside from the instigation of
the next war or six, when he got his own ship.

"Ensign" he said to Exley, who was manning the Security and Tactical
console next to the helm. "Simulate enemy Valdore in attack pose and speed
at Zero-Zero mark One-Eight on my mark." He swivelled the chair slightly
to the left to speak to the duty-ops officer. "Simulate shut down of all
back up batteries, internal communications, turbolifts and secondary
systems...Now"

The lights flickered, and then dimmed. "Exley, mark"

On the view screen, a false image of a warbird came sweeping into view.
"Red alert, condition drill."

No doubt Mavose would give him hell, but then again, with Mavose wherever
he was, he would likely make it to the bridge anytime soon, what with the
turbolifts systems being 'destroyed' and all.

The was a shrill beeping from the Tactical console, the data fed through
to the command console too. Exley reported what Tupalov was reading,
"simulated hull breach deck four, phaser bank beta destroyed."

"Where the hell are the shields?" Tupalov barked, livid that although this
was a drill, there was a 'loss of life' and a hole in the ship.

"Fire at will!" the Russian shouted at Tactical, "Helm get us behind them.
Ops, simulate incendiary dewice transported at weakest shield point."

<tag all crew>

--
Captain R. Kelargen
Commanding Officer
U.S.S Galahad
www.ussgalahad.co.nr