Under the Microscope

Posted on Thu Nov 27th, 2025 @ 12:43am by Captain Philippe Auvray & Captain Remy Johansen

1,326 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Peril at the Unification Accords
Location: Auvray's Personal Suite / Remy's Ready Room
Timeline: MD 09, 0750 Hours

It began, as too many important mornings do, with the taste of stale coffee and not enough sleep.

Auvray stood at the window of his personal hotel suite, his gaze a thousand yards away through a pane of glass framing the smoldering violet sunrise of Barisa Prime. His uniform jacket hung over the back of a chair--he hadn't bothered to put it on yet. The night had peeled at least three years off him; the dark half-moons under his eyes were not the type that could be pressed away with good lighting or makeup.

On the table behind him lay two data PADDs, one sealed with the silver crest of the Starfleet Judge Advocate General. Their contents had plucked every last nerve he possessed.

He drew in a slow breath, tapped the comm panel on his desk, and waited for the external subspace line to stabilize.

"Torab," he said. "Put me through to the Astrea--Captain Johansen. Priority channel."

There was a brief delay. For a moment, Philippe wondered if his Saurian adjutant was even awake and then remembered how early Torab would be in the security suite given the previous day's events.

It took a good forty seconds before Remy Johansen's face appeared, the crisp lights of her Ready Room behind her. She looked better this morning than he'd expected, though probably had about as much sleep as he.

"Captain," the Parisian officer said, his voice a little hoarser than usual. "I'm afraid we must speak."

"You have my attention," Remy replied keeping her expression professional. "What can I help you with?"

"I trust you've been briefed on the... developments surrounding your First Officer's interrogation of Doctor Aerev?"

"I understand she is being detained," Remy replied. She understood that there was tension between her first officer and marine commander, none of which was Auvray's concern. "She did refuse initial orders to stay grounded. Has there been any further investigation into what she may have had aboard her shuttle?"

Captain Auvray shook his head, disappointed in the lack of evidence or motive for Aerev's flight. "There is nothing." He rubbed a knuckle into one of his tired eyes and steadied his gaze at the screen that contained Remy Johansen's face.

"I have just completed a rather pointed conversation with the JAG officer overseeing this sector. Aerev's detainment was predicated on--how did he phrase it?" Auvray reached for the nearest PADD, scrolling. "Ah. 'Insufficiently articulated probable cause' and 'a fundamental procedural impropriety that jeopardizes admissibility.'" He dropped the PADD, a clatter sounding on the table near him.

Philippe Auvray appeared disgruntled and annoyed now, scratching at the stubble along his jaw. "Merde. I believe the charges will collapse under their own weight."

"Perhaps she should be released." Remy's suggestion was made calmly, dispassionately, as if she were selecting a paint color and not talking about the detention of an esteemed Romulan citizen. She knew how to throw conviction into an argument when it was needed, but Auvray was operating with enough theatrics for both of them.

He leaned back in armchair he was afforded in his personal suite, the leather creaking slightly. Outside the window, the first rays of sunshine began to pierce Argentia City.

"The damage is done, I am afraid." Auvray shifted slightly, his eyes finding a fixed point somewhere on the elegantly-wallpapered wall. "Commander Spello's... improvisations have brought all eyes at Starfleet Command upon Barisa Prime. They now consider this a high-risk arena. Every admiral with a pair of working eyes is watching."

Auvray returned his gaze to Remy. Beautiful, lovely Remy. But now was not the moment to compliment her beauty. Instead, his tone tightened. "I am not in the habit," he said, "of sacrificing my reputation--or my career--because another captain cannot restrain her officers." He raised a hand, palm out, not to silence her but to keep the momentum of the conversation from faltering. "I am telling you plainly, ma chère Remy: the Astrea is under a microscope. There is no margin left. No missteps. Not even a sneeze out of rhythm."

The term of endearment hit Remy's ears like nails on a chalkboard, but she did not react. She could not react. She did not rise to command by reacting without thinking beforehand, without sorting through her next moves with cautious precision.

"Cannot restrain her officers? Captain Auvray, are you implying something?" Remy's eyes widened, though she kept her voice low and measured, asking the question almost innocently before continuing. "Commander Spello was only questioning Dr. Aerev under your orders. My dear, Philippe, did you forget?"

Auvray froze for a millisecond--just long enough for the accusation to land and bruise his ego. And, only a millisecond later, his mouth curved upward into an admiring smile.

"Oh, Remy," he said, reciprocating the move to a first-name basis with the Astrea's commanding officer. "If I were inclined to forget my own orders, I would not still be serving in Starfleet after thirty-six years of service."

Suddenly, his expression clouded--the words losing all flirtation, all softness, becoming something flatter, colder. "Speaking of forgetting," Philippe continued. "Your decision to initiate what was it called?--Central Command Security Protocol Alpha? That singular decision removed my team from the decision-making process. Doctor Aerev's interrogation was flawed, oui. However, I did not direct your Executive Officer to arrest the subject." His eyes narrowed. "Your own marine majeur's report will be no doubt scathing in his opinion of Mister Spello."

"Your concern is noted," Remy replied evenly. "The Marines were brought here to run point on security, but if you feel your resources are better equipped to handle this investigation, then by all means, I'll be happy to hand the reigns over to you. In the meantime, if there is nothing else?"

She glared at the screen daring Auvray to make the next move.

Auvray found himself staring directly back at Remy. He did not consider her to be an adversary and somewhere deep inside, he almost felt sorry for her--sorry the weight of Ambassador T'Varel's death had to fall on her shoulders. But he had a career to consider.

"Your marines have performed with distinction, to date," he said with a slight incline of his head toward Remy. "Should the accords somehow continue, it will require every shred of manpower at our disposal."

"I believe we should be due for an announcement on scheduling soon," Remy replied. "But I wouldn't put it past the Vulcans to use this as an excuse to call the whole thing off. Now if you'll excuse me, Monsieur."

Remy's hand hovered over the switch to turn the screen off, hoping Auvray wouldn't find a reason to continue their chat.

"Bonne journée, captaine."

Captain Johansen's image disappeared from his screen, replaced by the logo for the United Federation of Planets. Auvray found himself contemplating his next move. There was no doubt he would have to release Aerev from holding, but something still didn't feel right. Why did she attempt to flee despite lockdown orders? Nothing in her statement made sense, yet nothing tied her to the Ambassador's death either.

Barisa Prime had suddenly become the epicenter for the quadrant in less than a day, and Philippe knew the only way his career would survive this might be to keep his head down and let Astrea continue to lead the way.

Yes, he thought. Safest for the Accords. Safest for me.

---

Captain Remira Johansen
Commanding Officer
USS Astrea


Captain Philippe Auvray
Chief Security Liaison
Starfleet Security

 

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