<hr/><strong>Name:</strong>Shariel<br/><strong>Position:</strong>Acting Captain<br/><strong>Status:</strong>Brooding<br/><hr/><br/>That Vulcans and Humans were so closely bound was scarcely surprising, both species were cursed and blessed with boundless curiosity, a common drive that made Starfleet possible, and an oddity in a galaxy obsessed with conquest. The two breeds worked well together, each providing for that which the other lacked. Shariel might not have had his Captain's bravado and charm, but there were precious few minds as thorough and disciplined as a Vulcan's. It was only natural for him, as he sat and brooded, to run the probabilities of a great many possibilities in his mind, to plot contingencies and analyse available data. A slender finger brushed over one of the many keys upon the arm of the central chair, an intricate sweep of his pointed nail alerting the computer to track those with whom he wished to communicate.<br/><br/>The purring, clarion voice of the First Officer danced along electronic channels, seeking out the appointed persons. "Lieutenant Sannev, Misters Ryder and Olig. Begin a security sweep of the cargo bay, then the bridge. Scan for all unauthorised biological or technological devices." Naturally enough, Vulcan was his own homeworld, a sanctum from the insanity of the greater galaxy, but Shariel had little time for presumptions. It was only logical to presume that, even on his beloved, an illogical but inescapable sensation, homeworld, that traitors and saboteurs could be at work. Humans had an apt saying, that one would have to rise early to fool a canny, cunning mind, but he only slept a few hours in every week. "I shall expect a report before we leave this system. Confirm." Sympathy and kindness were among those emotions that he did not possess, so he scarcely minded putting his subordinates to the test with difficult work. After all, duty was first and foremost, shipboard and elsewhere.